My palms are sweating as I write this post, because even the thought of someone free soloing a skyscraper makes me clammy. (Free solo means climbing with no ropes.) But that's what climber Alex Honnold is scheduled to do live, on Netflix, on January 23, 2026, at 8 PM ET.
He will be climbing Taipei 101, which is over 500 meters tall, one of the tallest buildings in the world, and formerly the world's tallest. Dubai's Burj Khalifa stole this superlative in 2009 when it was completed.
My palms continue to sweat, but Alex is of the opinion that, as far as enormous towers go, this one is relatively safe for free soloing:
Honnold said the shape of the building makes it safer to climb because there are balconies every eight floors. “You could actually fall in tons of places and not actually die, which makes it safer than a lot of rock climbing objectives,” he said.
I can see the logic.
The architecture of Taipei 101 consists of inverted trapezoids that are stacked on top of each other. Each is 8 storeys tall and they angle outward as you move up, creating a roof condition or terrace on top of each module.
Eight is an important number in Chinese culture because of a homophone in Mandarin; the number sounds like "to prosper" or "to make a fortune." So that's why the modules are the height that they are.
It is now also dawning on me that the nested modules of One Delisle are 8 storeys tall. That's good! This was never talked about during the design phase, but now that I'm aware of it, I'm going to pretend it was deliberate.
I guess this also means that One Delisle would be a relatively safe building to free solo climb. Please, nobody try this.
My palms are sweating as I write this post, because even the thought of someone free soloing a skyscraper makes me clammy. (Free solo means climbing with no ropes.) But that's what climber Alex Honnold is scheduled to do live, on Netflix, on January 23, 2026, at 8 PM ET.
He will be climbing Taipei 101, which is over 500 meters tall, one of the tallest buildings in the world, and formerly the world's tallest. Dubai's Burj Khalifa stole this superlative in 2009 when it was completed.
My palms continue to sweat, but Alex is of the opinion that, as far as enormous towers go, this one is relatively safe for free soloing:
Honnold said the shape of the building makes it safer to climb because there are balconies every eight floors. “You could actually fall in tons of places and not actually die, which makes it safer than a lot of rock climbing objectives,” he said.
I can see the logic.
The architecture of Taipei 101 consists of inverted trapezoids that are stacked on top of each other. Each is 8 storeys tall and they angle outward as you move up, creating a roof condition or terrace on top of each module.
Eight is an important number in Chinese culture because of a homophone in Mandarin; the number sounds like "to prosper" or "to make a fortune." So that's why the modules are the height that they are.
It is now also dawning on me that the nested modules of One Delisle are 8 storeys tall. That's good! This was never talked about during the design phase, but now that I'm aware of it, I'm going to pretend it was deliberate.
I guess this also means that One Delisle would be a relatively safe building to free solo climb. Please, nobody try this.
I recently tweeted a photo of 701 Côte de la Place-d'Armes in Montréal and asked: Who says buildings need stepbacks?
The response was exactly as I expected. Modern planning, as you know, is obsessed with setbacks, stepbacks, angular planes, shadow studies, skyviews, and lots of other things that inform the overall massing of new buildings. But then you point out a building like 701 Côte de la Place-d'Armes — which is not set back from the street and does not have any stepbacks above — and lots of people seem to love it.
In fact, I specifically chose to share this building because it's exactly the kind of architecture and urban design that conveys the feeling of grandeur I get when I'm in Montréal. I also chose it because it's taller than six storeys, which is the height that Toronto is hoping to one day deliver along its major streets at scale.
But here's a question: If this stepback-less building is so great, why are stepbacks so in-demand?
Firstly, I should point out that when the building was completed in 1870, it only had five floors. The top floor was an attic storey and had a mansard roof reminiscent of Haussmannian Second Empire architecture.
Then in 1909, the attic floor was removed, and three new floors were added (a net increase of two floors). If you look closely above the fourth floor, you'll see a slightly different architectural expression, but one that remains harmonious with the original design of the building.
This approach breaks many of the rules for how modern planning thinks about heritage buildings. Today, it is likely that someone would have asked for a stepback above the existing building, with a completely new expression above it. Admittedly, this can produce desirable results. But it's not what was decided in 1909, and the result is a very handsome building.
This gets us back to our original question: Why do we insist on stepbacks, but still like architecture like this one so much? I think there are at least two answers at play here.
The first has to do with architecture and design. If you were to pluck random people off the street and ask them about their architectural tastes, I would bet you that more people would prefer something Neoclassical or Beaux-Arts over something modern. And if people actually like the architecture, then I think they become more comfortable with scale, or perceived scale.
The second answer has to do with the fact that one way to look at stepbacks is as a defensive architectural tool. They have become a tool we use when someone doesn't actually want a building to be built. We use them to try and soften the massing by hiding as much of it as possible.
The problem with this approach is that it also means we're not playing offence. And if you want urban grandeur, I think you need to play offence. You need to be confident and decisive about what you're trying to do. And I think this is part of the reason why so many people seem to like 701 Côte de la Place-d'Armes. It is all of these things, and it's not in their backyard.
New York-based Extell Development is currently under construction on a Four Seasons Resort and Private Residences in the new Deer Valley East Village in Utah. When I was there in December, Bianca and I went by to check out the overall progress in the village, and the crew was in the midst of laying the decking for the ground floor. ODA designed the architecture, interiors, and landscaping.
The residential offering consists of Private Residences and Hotel Residences. The former are located in an owner-exclusive building and the latter are in the hotel building, where the units can be put into the Four Seasons Rental Program. I'm not sure if this is indicative of their overall inventory, but the remaining Hotel Residences are meaningfully larger than the Private Residences.
As a Park City booster, I think this additional village is exciting. There are now two large interconnected resorts and four distinct villages lining the Wasatch Back: Park City Mountain Resort, Park City Canyons Village, Deer Valley, and the Deer Valley East Village. Visit Utah would say that there's also a third resort in Woodward Park City (which happens to be adjacent to Parkview Mountain House).
But as a real estate developer and snowboarder, I do wonder about two things.
First, Deer Valley East Village is located in an area on the Wasatch Back that receives noticeably less snow compared to other areas because of its lower elevation and broad east exposure. If I refer back to Jim Steenburgh's book, Secrets of the Greatest Snow on Earth, the average annual snowfall at the base of the Jordanelle Gondola (located just north of the East Village) is probably less than 150 inches. This compares to 350+ inches at higher elevations in Park City and 500+ inches in the Cottonwood Canyons.
Because of this, the East Village has obviously invested heavily in snowmaking equipment. But artificial snow is not the same as natural snow. The higher elevations will be just fine, but the lower elevations will likely see marginal conditions. So why build a new village here? And was and is this a consideration for buyers at this new Four Seasons? Or are the luxury amenities and après events the real deciding factors? I'm not their target demographic, but from my perspective, this is reason enough not to buy here.
On the topic of the target buyer, my second question is about Deer Valley's "no snowboarding" rule (which is another reason why I'm not their target demographic). There are only 3 resorts in the United States that ban snowboarding. One of them is Deer Valley, and the other two are Alta (Utah) and Mad River Glen (Vermont). This seems to be a wildly popular rule among resort guests, and I support Deer Valley's decision to weed out "riff-raff" like me. Deer Valley is also known for capping daily lift tickets to keep the crowds down, so they don't seem to be hurting for patrons.
But according to recent data from Snowsports Industries America (SIA), the rough participation split in the US between skiers and snowboarders is somewhere around 60-70% and 30-40%, respectively. There are also many instances where families have a mix of skiers and snowboarders. If you're the Four Seasons at Deer Valley, this segment of the market is excluded. Oh well. The rich snowboarders have Park City, The Colony at Canyons Village, Powder Mountain, Aspen, and many other locations.
My assumption is that the ban on snowboarders is an unapologetic feature of Deer Valley and developments like the Four Seasons. It creates an air of exclusivity and differentiation. Some data also suggests that snowboarders tend to be a more ethnically diverse group compared to skiers (SIA reports show that among female snowboarders, 25% are Hispanic, and among males, 13% are Black — the highest diversity rates in winter sports), so one could argue that it's not just about the type of device used to get down the mountain. And, it seems to be working.
In July 2025, the Extell announced that they had closed a $600 million construction loan for the project from JVP Management and that 60% of the hotel residences were already sold. This is believed to be the largest construction loan on record for a hotel and residential condominium project in Utah.
At the same time, I'm also certain that the Four Seasons lost sales to certain buyers, perhaps a wealthy Boomer or Gen Xer with kids or grandkids who snowboard. Extrapolating this demographic trend, it is also believed that Millennials represent the first generation in the US with near-parity between skiers and snowboarders. So what will this mean for luxury real estate as these Millennials become the dominant buyer segment? My prediction is that the real estate market will respond.
Would you buy at the Deer Valley Four Seasons? Or have you already?
I recently tweeted a photo of 701 Côte de la Place-d'Armes in Montréal and asked: Who says buildings need stepbacks?
The response was exactly as I expected. Modern planning, as you know, is obsessed with setbacks, stepbacks, angular planes, shadow studies, skyviews, and lots of other things that inform the overall massing of new buildings. But then you point out a building like 701 Côte de la Place-d'Armes — which is not set back from the street and does not have any stepbacks above — and lots of people seem to love it.
In fact, I specifically chose to share this building because it's exactly the kind of architecture and urban design that conveys the feeling of grandeur I get when I'm in Montréal. I also chose it because it's taller than six storeys, which is the height that Toronto is hoping to one day deliver along its major streets at scale.
But here's a question: If this stepback-less building is so great, why are stepbacks so in-demand?
Firstly, I should point out that when the building was completed in 1870, it only had five floors. The top floor was an attic storey and had a mansard roof reminiscent of Haussmannian Second Empire architecture.
Then in 1909, the attic floor was removed, and three new floors were added (a net increase of two floors). If you look closely above the fourth floor, you'll see a slightly different architectural expression, but one that remains harmonious with the original design of the building.
This approach breaks many of the rules for how modern planning thinks about heritage buildings. Today, it is likely that someone would have asked for a stepback above the existing building, with a completely new expression above it. Admittedly, this can produce desirable results. But it's not what was decided in 1909, and the result is a very handsome building.
This gets us back to our original question: Why do we insist on stepbacks, but still like architecture like this one so much? I think there are at least two answers at play here.
The first has to do with architecture and design. If you were to pluck random people off the street and ask them about their architectural tastes, I would bet you that more people would prefer something Neoclassical or Beaux-Arts over something modern. And if people actually like the architecture, then I think they become more comfortable with scale, or perceived scale.
The second answer has to do with the fact that one way to look at stepbacks is as a defensive architectural tool. They have become a tool we use when someone doesn't actually want a building to be built. We use them to try and soften the massing by hiding as much of it as possible.
The problem with this approach is that it also means we're not playing offence. And if you want urban grandeur, I think you need to play offence. You need to be confident and decisive about what you're trying to do. And I think this is part of the reason why so many people seem to like 701 Côte de la Place-d'Armes. It is all of these things, and it's not in their backyard.
New York-based Extell Development is currently under construction on a Four Seasons Resort and Private Residences in the new Deer Valley East Village in Utah. When I was there in December, Bianca and I went by to check out the overall progress in the village, and the crew was in the midst of laying the decking for the ground floor. ODA designed the architecture, interiors, and landscaping.
The residential offering consists of Private Residences and Hotel Residences. The former are located in an owner-exclusive building and the latter are in the hotel building, where the units can be put into the Four Seasons Rental Program. I'm not sure if this is indicative of their overall inventory, but the remaining Hotel Residences are meaningfully larger than the Private Residences.
As a Park City booster, I think this additional village is exciting. There are now two large interconnected resorts and four distinct villages lining the Wasatch Back: Park City Mountain Resort, Park City Canyons Village, Deer Valley, and the Deer Valley East Village. Visit Utah would say that there's also a third resort in Woodward Park City (which happens to be adjacent to Parkview Mountain House).
But as a real estate developer and snowboarder, I do wonder about two things.
First, Deer Valley East Village is located in an area on the Wasatch Back that receives noticeably less snow compared to other areas because of its lower elevation and broad east exposure. If I refer back to Jim Steenburgh's book, Secrets of the Greatest Snow on Earth, the average annual snowfall at the base of the Jordanelle Gondola (located just north of the East Village) is probably less than 150 inches. This compares to 350+ inches at higher elevations in Park City and 500+ inches in the Cottonwood Canyons.
Because of this, the East Village has obviously invested heavily in snowmaking equipment. But artificial snow is not the same as natural snow. The higher elevations will be just fine, but the lower elevations will likely see marginal conditions. So why build a new village here? And was and is this a consideration for buyers at this new Four Seasons? Or are the luxury amenities and après events the real deciding factors? I'm not their target demographic, but from my perspective, this is reason enough not to buy here.
On the topic of the target buyer, my second question is about Deer Valley's "no snowboarding" rule (which is another reason why I'm not their target demographic). There are only 3 resorts in the United States that ban snowboarding. One of them is Deer Valley, and the other two are Alta (Utah) and Mad River Glen (Vermont). This seems to be a wildly popular rule among resort guests, and I support Deer Valley's decision to weed out "riff-raff" like me. Deer Valley is also known for capping daily lift tickets to keep the crowds down, so they don't seem to be hurting for patrons.
But according to recent data from Snowsports Industries America (SIA), the rough participation split in the US between skiers and snowboarders is somewhere around 60-70% and 30-40%, respectively. There are also many instances where families have a mix of skiers and snowboarders. If you're the Four Seasons at Deer Valley, this segment of the market is excluded. Oh well. The rich snowboarders have Park City, The Colony at Canyons Village, Powder Mountain, Aspen, and many other locations.
My assumption is that the ban on snowboarders is an unapologetic feature of Deer Valley and developments like the Four Seasons. It creates an air of exclusivity and differentiation. Some data also suggests that snowboarders tend to be a more ethnically diverse group compared to skiers (SIA reports show that among female snowboarders, 25% are Hispanic, and among males, 13% are Black — the highest diversity rates in winter sports), so one could argue that it's not just about the type of device used to get down the mountain. And, it seems to be working.
In July 2025, the Extell announced that they had closed a $600 million construction loan for the project from JVP Management and that 60% of the hotel residences were already sold. This is believed to be the largest construction loan on record for a hotel and residential condominium project in Utah.
At the same time, I'm also certain that the Four Seasons lost sales to certain buyers, perhaps a wealthy Boomer or Gen Xer with kids or grandkids who snowboard. Extrapolating this demographic trend, it is also believed that Millennials represent the first generation in the US with near-parity between skiers and snowboarders. So what will this mean for luxury real estate as these Millennials become the dominant buyer segment? My prediction is that the real estate market will respond.
Would you buy at the Deer Valley Four Seasons? Or have you already?
