With as much consternation as there’s been about the dubious connection between the ‘creative class’ and recent ‘urban renaissance’ (and the consequent gentrification that follows irregardless), has there been any consideration given to zoning in this debate? While developers build condominiums with hesitant and ornamental ‘industrial character’ like a decorative sprinkle of cheap paprika, the prospect of inhabiting a residence with authentic industrial character is surprisingly daunting here in Washington because, lo, though they appear to be charming brick rowhouses in a Victorian style, they happen to be founded on land zoned ‘light industrial’ and therefore are not for residential use.
In re-embarking on my search for new digs in the city, I figured that the connection is dubious largely in cities where this kind of antiquated zoning paradigm exists. The urban planning of the industrial revolution was not tailored to the lifestyle of the creative class now somehow responsible for its validation, and the cities that figured this out, did away with the rigid markers of residence, commerce, and industry and declared simply, “Make it suitable for living, and live there” are those now reaping the benefits of a local yuppie base and their obscene amounts of disposable income. The creative class entered and thrived in a workplace that eschewed conventions of hierarchy and divisions and valued versatility and hybridity—job titles were made up on the spot to accommodate the strange niches and nascent competencies for which their fresh blood was hired. More often than not, these strange niches and nascent competencies were serviced, created by, or at least related to the internet and the human infrastructure needed to maintain it at all times so that Peter can update the prices on the SilenX online store with a Tablet PC in Paris at midnight and I can shop for a power supply in Washington, D.C. at 2 a.m. and so forth. And this kind of transaction is also representative of the kind of lifestyle the creative class wishes to reflect in its dwellings.
Instead, in the strictly residential quarters of the cities where the urban renaissance is a maybe at best, yuppies retire to tower blocks of slab-sided shotgun drywall condominiums, gussied up with serifed canopies, charming as a cyborg hooker wearing petticoats. It is an atmosphere not conducive to the perpetual undercurrent of productivity that gave the creative class its massive economic pull, and worse, it’s not conducive to leisure, social interaction, or healthy living of any stripe for any class of people.
This thought isn’t finished, but I’m going back to my condominium.