Home of architect John O'Connor, in Toronto's Cabbagetown neighbourhood.Ted Yarwood/Ted Yarwood
It’s remarkably quiet in architect John O’Connor’s renovated Cabbagetown home.
The occasional yaps of his dogs, Jack and Beckwith, are the only noises that break up the otherwise tranquil sound of flowing water that floods the living room from a small courtyard fountain. Fire trucks aside, it’s nearly impossible to tell its location in the heart of Canada’s largest city.
The home is a portfolio piece for Mr. O’Connor, who toured it, put an offer in and bought it all in the same afternoon about 26 years ago. Back then, he said the building was in rough shape, with aluminum siding, vinyl floors and a creaky porch. Originally built in the 1870s, the modest home was designed to be a “worker’s cottage,” where the working class could enjoy more sanitary, spacious living conditions.
Despite its outwardly unattractive appearance, Mr. O’Connor said his only question before closing the deal was, “Are there termites? Because everything else has to be rebuilt.” He bought the cottage for $230,000. Today, $400,000 worth of renovations later, he’s selling it for close to $3-million in an effort to let go of one of three properties he and his partner currently tend to.
The cottage was a launching pad for Mr. O’Connor’s architecture firm, Basis Design Build, which he started after growing frustrated of being stuck between a client and a contractor while working on larger projects. ”It just wore me down. So, by the time I was late 30s, it was time to do something on my own.”
Home of architect John OConnor, Cabbagetown, Toronto.Ted Yarwood/Ted Yarwood
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Working on the project slowly as the needed funds could be set aside, it took two years for Mr. O’Connor to transform the humble cottage completely. Two years more and he had added a coach house to the back of the property, expanding its live/work possibilities.
Just off Parliament Street, the home’s concrete front is broken up by wood-framed windows and is strategically positioned so that the attached three-storey tower is only visible from one, specific spot on the sidewalk. The entrance hallway is filled with natural light during the day and lit by baseboard LEDs by night, giving visitors a view directly through the house to its finely pruned backyard.
The front of the home is configured as an office, with space for at least three desks, a large table for group discussions and a washroom, in case the space needs to double as a guest room. A series of sliding wooden panels gives the option of either using the space as an open co-working area or as individual offices. Moving further into the home, a bold, cool kitchen sharply separates its working and living areas. The cooking area combines concrete work surfaces and stainless-steel appliances, with a fridge and laundry area tucked off to the side.
Last September, Mr. O’Connor said he and his partner decided to open their home up to the neighbourhood as part of the Cabbagetown Tour of Homes. “There’s a real estate agent that runs the tour, and he was very keen. But he said, you know, there are people that don’t like your house because of the baggage of history.”
Around 2001, impending rules about changes that could be made to heritage homes in his area forced Mr. O’Connor to speed up his plans to build a third floor on the part of his house that he affectionately calls The Tower. Today, he said he would never be allowed to renovate the cottage the way he did, due to heritage conservation guidelines. Mr. O’Connor said he respects heritage, but he believes architecture can comment on the past while still moving forward.
“I think it’s better, in terms of heritage, to somehow find a way to insert yourself within what’s there, because the city’s a living, growing organism that’s changing,” he said.
About 750 people toured Mr. O’Connor’s home last year, with some waiting in a lineup that he said lasted for more than an hour. It was an exclusive look into a home that, aside from some rambunctious St. Patrick’s Day festivities and dinner parties with close friends, was designed for a private lifestyle. At the top floor of the tower is what he calls his “retreat room,” where Mr. O’Connor said he enjoys looking down upon the city below from a place that very few can peer back up at him.
Through the garden and up the steps that double as a second water feature, the small coach house offers two more desks and a little more separation from the home than the street-facing office. It’s also an adequate guest room, which Mr. O’Connor said was proved by his niece when she lived there for four months during the COVID-19 pandemic.
Next door to the coach house is a garage that backs onto a quiet laneway and gives Mr. O’Connor an option, he said, when he wants to escape neighbourly chatter and arrive home unnoticed. “I’m not anti-social, but I do love the fact you have two entrances to a house.”
Mr. O’Connor said the sale of the home offers more than just an architect’s portfolio piece; it also grants a lifestyle. He said the buyers will “have this cool house and all these possibilities of work and living, with nothing to get ready for. They don’t need to spend two and a half, three years planning and building.”
Even through the bounty of green that sets the house back from the sidewalk, its “For Sale” sign can’t help but attract attention from passersby who stop to take photos and talk about it in hushed tones. This, paired with a steady stream of showings, proves interest is high in the architect’s home that was inspired more than two decades ago by Mr. O’Connor’s urge to break some neighbourhood norms.
“If everybody follows all the rules, they never go anywhere,” he said.