One moment, everything’s fine. The next, boom. There it is, sprouted from the ground.
Maybe it appears on an empty lot in the neighborhood, or on the razed site of a treasured eatery that just closed its doors after 30 years. The structure is sleek, alien — a simple gray tower, usually between four and seven stories tall, its cold minimalism belied by an inexplicable design choice that suggests its developer — you might call him Chad, Brad, Thad or Trevor — is the kind of guy who opens enough Vineyard Vines’ promotional emails to have them appear in his primary inbox.
Maybe all the balconies are cherry red. Perhaps the entryway’s tile floor is paisley. If the building has a street address number, it’ll likely be in Helvetica. No, you’re not looking at a Norwegian prison. You’re looking at a mid-rise luxury apartment. And once you’ve spotted one in your neighborhood, it’s important to act fast.
This common infestation, native in expensive urban enclaves, has been rapidly spreading in working-class neighborhoods. Mid-rise apartments can attract other pests to your neighborhood: luxury workout studios, Sweetgreen and its competitors, droves of high-earning white professionals in a perpetual limbo of well-funded arrested development, which mostly seems to involve drinking mimosas and gentrifying.
Behind every apartment development, of course, is its developer. And if we’re to exterminate these structural pests from our society, we must focus our attention on their creators.
Luckily, I've spent around a decade reporting on the real estate industry. As such, I speak their unique language, and offer below a few translations to some of their most commonly used phrases and expressions. Fair warning: It sounds a lot like English, but the language takes on an entirely new meaning in developers’ native dialect.
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“This area is ripe with potential.”
Translation: “This area is home to a vibrant Vietnamese community that’s built a thriving tapestry of businesses, cultural institutions and cherished eateries. As if that wasn’t bleak enough, know this: There’s not a single gastropub in the neighborhood serving up IPA-infused smashburgers.
“This neighborhood is ready for its next chapter.”
“This neighborhood is south of lower downtown proper, so we’re going to start calling it SoLoDoPro — and you are, too.”
“This is a historic part of the city.”
“This neighborhood is Black.”
“This is a vibrant part of the city.”
“This neighborhood is Hispanic.”
“This is a vibrant, historic part of the city.”
“Man, I wish more white people lived in this neighborhood.”
“This apartment promotes green modes of transportation.”
“This high-rise apartment has one (1) bike rack. We paid the developer’s nephew $50,000 to design it. It’s an abstract interpretation of the word “CULTURE,” looks like an egg, and does not function as a bike rack.”
If we’re to exterminate these structural pests from our society, we must focus our attention on their creators
“This apartment stands proudly at the apex of service and technology.”
“Residents can download an app for our proprietary dog-walking service. No ‘bully breeds’ allowed.”
“We’re committed to doing our part to clean up the violence in the neighborhood.”
“We surrounded the property with six-inch steel spikes that stab the unhoused if they even think about sleeping on our turf.”
“This project is committed to honoring the neighborhood’s history.”
“This project is committed to driving out any unhoused person within a five-mile radius, giving them the opportunity to talk about their neighborhood’s history with someone else far, far away.”
“While distinctive, this apartment still fits in with the fabric of the neighborhood.”
“Of course this apartment doesn’t fit in with the ‘fabric of the neighborhood.’ It’s a brutalist Jenga tower that functions as an adult dorm for white professionals stuck in a state of well-funded arrested development. We’re technically referring to a future version of the neighborhood, when that family-owned Chinese spot is a Mod Pizza, there’s an Orangetheory next to an anal bleaching center next to an Orangetheory, and the only place you can get ramen is at a restaurant with a corporate TikTok account.”
“This neighborhood was once dead; it’s now more vibrant than ever.”
“You can’t put a roof over your head for less than $4,000 a month in this neighborhood — our nod to the grit of its longtime community members, most of whom no longer live here.”
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