The capitalist commune was, in the end, far more capitalist than commune.Īt first, it seemed like the pandemic would prove disastrous for the industry - tiny bedrooms in all-inclusive apartments shared with strangers and the suspension of perks like housekeeping, movie nights, and rooftop wine tastings did not pair well with quarantines and work-from-home policies. During the pandemic, as numerous co-living companies went under and consolidated - earlier this month, Common took over Starcity’s co-living operation of some 7,500 units - it has become abundantly clear that co-living was a business, not a utopia. If you were a minor player with a master lease on a few properties, charging a premium for bundling in olive oil, internet, weekly housekeeping, and West Elm furniture, it made sense to play up how life-changing the spaces could be.
There are scams, deals so bad they may as well be scams, openly antisocial roommates who resent having to share their apartments, and the general uneasiness that comes with signing a binding legal contract with strangers.įor years, even as established real-estate players entered the field and it became clear that large, ground-up co-living developments were the direction the industry was heading in, the vast number of co-living companies seeking to distinguish themselves in an ever-more crowded marketplace meant that the over-the-top utopian rhetoric proliferated.
Finding an apartment share on Craigslist or Gypsy Housing is miserable and difficult, especially for those who need to move to a place like New York quickly to start a job - or, even more damaging to a renter’s prospects, find a job. Instead, it filled the void left by the decline of boarding houses, turn-of-the-century single-sex residency hotels, and SROs. In reality, the industry flourished not because co-living filled the void left by, say, the decline of religion, as WeLive’s co-founder Miguel McKelvey once implied. Pure House, for example, boasted of designing “experiences that empower our members to thrive.” Starcity claims to be “bringing community back to the city.” Since it took off about a decade ago, the co-living industry has gone to great lengths to sell an image of communal bliss: not just a sleek furnished bedroom in a hassle-free apartment share, but housing as a means to creative, social, professional, and even spiritual fulfillment. Photo: Johannes Eisele/AFP via Getty Images