When we were kids we made it our business to know which families were getting new appliances.
Whether it was a Maytag washer, a Westinghouse range or the most impressive, a brand new Frigidaire, it was always a big event for the kids in the neighborhood.
We knew that every appliance came in a heavy duty cardboard box and fridges, which were the biggest, had the best boxes.
After the delivery truck left, the lucky kid who lived there would take possession of the nifty cardboard crate, suitable for hideouts and clubhouses.
We would lay the box on its side, use the flaps for doors and then cut some windows and a few peep holes to keep an eye on things.
With a little luck and if the rain held off we might hang out in that box for the entire summer, using it as our headquarters and secret lair.
There wasn’t much room but we were smaller back then and didn’t need a lot of personal space or room for our stuff.
Eventually we outgrew our cardboard hideout and to varying degrees we all moved on to bigger and better clubhouses.
Some went on to become Westfort land barons, owning small bungalows on double lots which were then traded up for bigger and fancier dwellings.
In Thunder Bay it is still possible for young people to work their way up from cardboard in the backyard to bungalows to a dream house in the country.
Homeownership can still be achieved in this town but in Canada’s largest cities the high cost of accommodation makes it more like a homeowner’s fantasy.
In Toronto and Vancouver some of the poorest and least fortunate still take shelter under cardboard, but for them it is a matter of survival.
Even the gainfully employed can’t raise the hundreds of thousands or millions required to enter the real estate market.
They may not be living in appliance boxes but the apartments they can afford are not much bigger than the Frigidaire crates we used to play in.
Actually, they are often referred to as shoebox apartments but to be fair, that is a bit of an exaggeration.
The current trend in big Canadian cities is the construction of “micro-condos,” offering a miniscule 200 to 300 square feet of living space.
That is slightly bigger than a shoebox – in fact, these small apartments are about the size of two average parking spaces.
They are being pitched as an affordable entry point for anybody looking to get a foot into an overheated real estate market.
Developers are jumping at this opportunity which they say is driven by the influx of young urban professionals to the downtown area.
Rents for these tiny living spaces are considerably higher (per square foot) than conventional apartments, even though the market is largely untested.
Rent for a micro-loft in Vancouver is a tad over $1,000.
If you prefer to buy and can arrange financing (the banks are still a bit nervous about these teeny properties) a 290 sq. ft. mini-condo in Toronto goes for $250,000.
There are 3,000 of these units under construction in T.O. right now.
But we’re not talking fridge boxes – these condos include wall beds, fold-out tables, kitchens (microwave, fridge, cook top) and a spacious (?) bathroom.
They are wired for the Internet and ready to go.
Coming soon, “nano-suites” – 150 to 200 square feet including a washer, dryer, dishwasher and full bath, for those who find micro-condos too large and unwieldy.
They are designed to be chic and trendy but they still look like little boxes to me.
