by 
It
looms,
all
glamour
and
glass,
like
a
strange
Wellsian
monster.
Floor
by
floor
it
comes,
casting
the
Colorado
River
in
shadow
as
it
goes.
By
the
time
it’s
finished,
sometime
next
year,
it’ll
be
the
tallest
building
in
Texas,
at
74
storeys
beating
Houston’s
JP
Morgan
Chase
Tower
by
almost
20
feet.
Yet
even
more
than
its
scale,
it’s
the
amenities
at
the
Waterline
Apartments
that
really
impress.
This,
after
all,
is
a
place
that
promises
a
new
Austin,
one,
its
marketers
say,
that
offers
“serenity
in
the
sky”.
There’ll
be
restaurants,
and
retail,
and
a
hotel
complete
with
swimming
pool
and
spa.
Far
from
a
repeat
of
The
War
of
the
Worlds,
then,
the
Waterline
speaks
to
another
H.G.
Wells
fantasy,
one
the
writer
envisaged
as
“a
great
gallery”
where
people
could
meet
and
live
in
harmony.
Nor
is
it
alone.
There
are
13
similar
high-rises
coming
right
across
Austin,
as
its
population
rises
and
GDP
soars.
This
emerging
urban
Austin,
a
place
of
towers
and
cocktail
bars,
is
fundamentally
different
from
the
established
centres
of
the
East
and
Midwest.
In
beehives
like
Wall
Street
or
The
Loop,
office
workers
historically
came
in
to
work,
then
retreated
back
to
the
suburbs
each
night.
Downtown
Austin,
though,
puts
residents
at
its
hearts,
focusing
less
on
offices
and
more
on
lifestyles.
Yet
if
that
means
amenities
galore,
this
tidy
vision
risks
redefining
American
cities
for
the
worse
—
even
as
the
old
problems
of
urban
dysfunction
always
loom.
For
decades,
the
Texan
capital
was
synonymous
with
a
single
word:
weird.
Unlike
the
conservative
countryside,
or
else
oil
towns
like
Dallas,
the
self-proclaimed
People’s
Republic
of
Austin
was
a
place
of
lively
bars
and
soul-filled
clubs.
There
was
Rainey
Street,
too,
a
charming
Latino
neighbourhood
filled
with
pretty
tree-lined
cottages.
When
I
first
came
here,
almost
half
a
century
ago,
I
was
reminded
of
nothing
less
than
Haight-Ashbury
—
the
San
Francisco
neighbourhood
so
beloved
among
artists
and
hippies.
Now,
though,
this
older,
shabbier
Austin
is
slipping
away.
Quite
aside
from
landmark
developments
like
the
Waterline,
that’s
clear
enough
in
the
numbers.
Since
2000,
downtown’s
population
has
tripled
to
15,000.
In
large
part,
in
fact,
Kevin
Burns
argues
the
ultra-modern
vibe
can
be
understood
by
sheer
demand,
with
the
rising
forest
of
towers
appealing
to
young
professionals
tired
of
life
in
the
suburbs.
“The
driver
is
quality
of
life,”
says
the
bearded
47-year-old
real-estate
developer,
sipping
a
coffee
as
the
sound
of
construction
echoes
around
us.
It’s
not
hard
to
see
what
he
means.
Life
by
the
Colorado,
still
feverishly
in
the
making,
is
pleasantly
walkable.
There
are
yew-scattered
parklands,
and
bike
lanes
and
creeks.
It’s
all
surely
a
step
up
from
the
convention
centres
and
stadiums
that
once
got
urban
developers
excited.
There’s
also
plenty
to
do:
dozens
of
bars
and
restaurants
open
in
Austin
every
month,
dovetailed
by
yoga
studios
and
comedy
clubs.
Yet
if
the
new
Austin
promises
paradise
for
wealthy
hipsters,
the
hippies
of
yore
seem
far
less
welcome.
Downtown,
after
all,
is
expensive,
hardly
surprising
when
so
many
of
the
new
arrivals
are
tech
workers,
“empty
nesters”
with
far
fewer
children
to
feed
than
their
peers
elsewhere.
An
apartment
in
the
sky
here
will
set
you
back
$170,000
more
than
other
parts
of
Central
Texas,
doubtless
explaining
why
so
many
new
downtowners
are
white.
Read
the
rest
of
this
piece
at
UnHerd.
Joel
Kotkin
is
the
author
of
The
Coming
of
Neo-Feudalism:
A
Warning
to
the
Global
Middle
Class.
He
is
the
Roger
Hobbs
Presidential
Fellow
in
Urban
Futures
at
Chapman
University
and
and
directs
the
Center
for
Demographics
and
Policy
there.
He
is
Senior
Research
Fellow
at
the
Civitas
Institute
at
the
University
of
Texas
in
Austin.
Learn
more
at
joelkotkin.com
and
follow
him
on
Twitter
@joelkotkin.
Photo:
Randy
von
Liski
via
Flickr
under
CC
2.0
License.
Go to Source
Author: Joel Kotkin
