The Death of Cities? Let's be a little less dramatic and a little more creative

I'm very intrigued by articles like this one.

Is remote work really poised to destroy American cities?

It's a grim outlook for developers sitting in the 10th story of their mostly empty office building. But it's a great experience down here on earth.

I work remotely 100% of my time, which means that I eat, sleep, and work in the same 650 sf apartment all day and all night. I don't care how much you love remote work, this kind of cabin fever will surely deteriorate your sanity if you don't get out and about every now and then. On an occasional Friday afternoon, I'll take my laptop to one of any six cafes within a three-minute walk from my front door, which is perfect for escaping my living room and convenient if I have to rush back to take a call or use the bathroom. Most recently, I tried out a new cafe/bar (an increasingly common hybrid commercial archetype) that just opened. There were five other people at their own little tables, drinking coffee in front of their laptops. Productivity and french roast were fresh in the air. I overheard conversations about the experience of using Teams versus Slack, pleas to borrow a charger, and worries about reporting to the boss - all topics that any remote worker can relate to. There's a comfort in hearing others grapple with the same qualms I face in solitude at my own Wayfair-supplied workspace. And there's something refreshing about being surrounded by worker bees of different industries that I know nothing about, as opposed to hearing the same kinds of conversations I'd hear in my office.

When I feel the itch to get in some physical activity, I use my lunch break (which I don't typcially take - a bad habit of all modern workers) to head over to a yoga class - again, only a three-minute walk from my front door. Sure, I could just throw Youtube on my smart tv and do a vinyasa in the privacy of my living room where I've already spent the entirety of my morning, but just being around other people with whom I have zero personal or professional connection satisfies a deeply human need to be part of a group, even if only for an hour. And because I live in a low-rise-high-density neighborhood, I can even get in some rays of sunshine on my walk back to my desk - something you don't get while walking to and from the communal office kitchen.

I'm clearly not the only remote worker taking advantage of these pockets for activity and engagement. The coffee shops, yoga studios, nail salons, parklets and (on Fridays) breweries are full of life at nearly all times of the day. Sure, some of these encounters are for leisure, but any time I venture out into the world on a weekday I hear brainstorms and business deals happening in real-time, sometimes with an IPA in hand!

These moments are what will keep cities alive. These moments don't happen in the suburbs.

There was a mass exodus from cities last century that followed President Eisenhower's expansive interstate network, which invited people to live in the country and drive to work in the cities. There was an exodus as people fled urban centers during the pandemic. But cities will always offer a lifestyle and economic opportunity that the country simply can't. They will always offer community connections that the country can't. They will always offer a plethora of modes for groups of people to gather.

So what do we do with all these half-full office buildings? Personally, I wouldn't be sad to see the sterile steel-and-glass commercial districts of downtowns morph into something new. They're only ever full of stern people walking around in suits, rich people shopping for clothes I can't afford or homeless people taking respite near the transit stations. Sure, they might have big (empty) plazas with fountains, Alexander Calder sculptures, and food trucks that cater to high-rise workplaces above, but these downtowns do not feel public; they feel more like I'm field-tripping into the city to see the big shiny building where Daddy works.

My office just transformed an abandoned mid-century office tower into a hotel and visitor attraction; we turned a retired manufacturing building into a creative community hub. Hotels are being transformed into student and low-income housing. Name off nearly any program - including relatively new typologies like test kitchens, incubators, communal living residences and urban farms - and I'm sure there is an appropriate reuse for these now-defunct offices.

Tokyo went through this very kind of transformation of office buildings in the 1960s and '70s, so much so that it produced a new building type - zakkyo buildings. These buildings started off as common multi-tenant office towers with commercial space on the ground floor but when low-demand for office spaces left them empty new programs filled in: cafes, restaurants, bars, clinics, nail salons and spas, game centers. Zakkyo buildings are known for sporting large colorful graphics and billboards on their facades that make for an energetic experience out on the street; think Times Square. (Reference and recommended reading: Emergent Tokyo Designing the Spontaneous City by Jorge Almazan + Studiolab)

I'm not so sure we're facing the death of American cities (again), but we might be facing the death of modern office towers. To those who don't know what to do with these spaces, I say, "Stop looking for answers in building programs of yesteryear." To those who have been concerned about losing social connections with the rise of remote work, may I suggest you step outside to experience the culture that is buzzing right below your glassy conference room? To those who fret about the imminent death of cities, I say, "Grab a five-dollar latte and enjoy a timeless urban activity - people-watching."