Welcome to my blog series, Condo Chronicles, where I analyze popular Toronto condo floor plans and offer my professional architect/real estate agent advice to improve them.
There’s a particular kind of optimism that exists in condo marketing… one that suggests not only that life will fit neatly into 600 square feet, but that it will do so gracefully, elegantly, and possibly while entertaining six.
I’ve always been a little suspicious.
So, in a moment of equal parts curiosity and mild architectural mischief, I decided to test a few of these plans — not digitally, where everything behaves, but physically. I scaled them to ¼” = 1′-0″, built some modest dollhouse furniture to match actual human-sized expectations, and introduced a few tiny, unsuspecting residents to see how they’d fare.
It quickly became less of an exercise… and more of a game.
Or perhaps a puzzle.
A rather cruel one.
Exhibit A: 100 Dalhousie — A Study in Creative Compromise
Let’s begin with the one-bedroom.
At first glance, it appears entirely reasonable—clean, efficient, even promising. But once you introduce such radical concepts as a queen-sized bed (a minimum expectation for most adults, one would think), things begin to unravel.
The bed fits, technically. But in the same way a grand piano technically fits in an elevator if you don’t mind removing a wall.
Add two bedside tables (because where else do we put life’s essentials?) and suddenly navigating the room becomes a sideways shuffle of quiet negotiation. The closet, optimistically positioned, exists more as a suggestion than a usable storage solution once the sliding doors are engaged. One begins to wonder if socks and T-shirts are meant to live a more nomadic lifestyle.
Naturally, I introduced a small dresser/desk combination. Because people, in a shocking turn of events, tend to own things.
This did not help.
Out in the living space, a modest arrangement—a loveseat, chair, coffee table—quickly transforms the room into an obstacle course. Circulation becomes theoretical. One does not walk through the space so much as thread a needle.
As for the television, I struggled to find a logical location. But in fairness, one could simply watch the stove. Place a pot of something gently bubbling, and you’ve created both ambiance and entertainment. Quite soothing, really.
Dining? Of course we must dine.
A small table with a few chairs fits… in the same way everything else does: reluctantly. Add a couple of friends, and what was once a home becomes an intimate exercise in spatial diplomacy. I illustrated this in one version — with three guests — and it feels less like hosting and more like a well-mannered evacuation drill.
This is not the first time we’ve explored floor plans at 100 Dalhousie, for more, check out my Condo Chronicles: Social Condos at 100 Dalhousie Street.
There is, however, a moment of triumph.
The baby grand piano fits beautifully on the balcony.
Completely impractical. Entirely unnecessary.
But undeniably perfect.
Craving more condo floor plan reimaginings? Read these past Condo Chronicles next:
- 110 Bloor Street West: Elegance, Logic, and a Touch of Drama
- The Art of the Floor Plan: A Tale of Two Suites
- Reflections of Yorkville’s Changing Landscape
Exhibit B: 39 Queens Quay East — Generosity, Misapplied
Now, the two-bedroom.
This one is larger. More generous. More… confident.
And yet, somehow, equally perplexing.
It features two bathrooms, one of which proudly accommodates a full wheelchair turning radius. Bravo, truly. It’s a noble and necessary design gesture.
Though one does wonder: having successfully navigated into the bathroom, how does one return to the rest of the suite, now fully furnished?
It’s a bit like designing a grand ballroom at the end of a very narrow hallway.
The bedrooms, again, accept proper beds — a queen and a double — but with a certain reluctance. In the second bedroom, I placed a figure attempting to pass between the bed and the door. It reads less like circulation space and more like a trust exercise.
Closet access? Ambitious.
Back in the main living area, we encounter the kitchen… if one is comfortable using that term. A slender strip of counter space that seems less designed for cooking and more for staging takeout containers. It sits immediately adjacent to the sofa, allowing one to sauté within arm’s reach of the cushions.
Dinner and a show, as it were.
I arranged a proper living room — sofa, coffee table, an additional chair (because optimism dies hard) — and quickly discovered that the room becomes less about living and more about negotiating corners.
There is also a column.
A magnificent, immovable presence.
I placed a chair beside it, naturally. A sort of sentinel position. From here, one could neither comfortably watch television nor meaningfully participate in conversation, but one could certainly prevent access to the adjacent bedroom. Every home needs a purpose-built obstruction.
Dining, interestingly, is where the plan finds a small victory. A table for six is achievable, somewhat heroically, suggesting that while daily life may be compromised, entertaining can proceed in a spirit of determined togetherness.
Coats, meanwhile, are hung conveniently beside the kitchen sink.
As one does.
The Balcony, Revisited
And yes, once again, the baby grand piano fits on the balcony.
Which raises an important question: in a city where winter dominates the calendar and wind tunnels between towers with great enthusiasm, how much time are we truly spending out there?
Not much, I suspect.
But if one were to venture out, why not do so musically?
There’s more than just floor plans on this blog. For more condo-centric content, read these posts next:
- Is it Wrong to Like Older Condo Buildings… Or Are They Actually Better?
- The Condo Reckoning: Garbage, Gold, and the Illusion of Easy Money
- 10 Types of Toronto Condo Buildings You Don’t Want to Live In (And How to Spot Them)
Final Thoughts: For Whom Are These Plans Drawn?
After all of this, one question lingers:
Are these spaces designed for real people… or for a slightly smaller, more flexible species?
Because when scaled honestly — when furnished not with abstract rectangles but with the actual footprint of living — these plans reveal themselves. Not as failures, necessarily, but as optimistic fictions.
And yet, this is the world we build into.
So perhaps the real skill isn’t in designing these spaces…
…but in learning how to live in them without taking out a hip on the coffee table.
Do you have condo questions? Thinking about buying one in Toronto? I’d love to help you on the house hunt. Reach out today by calling or emailing me directly.
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