This map shows the price of a square foot of housing in every postcode in London

The central London section of the map. Image: Neal Hudson.

You know, I sometimes worry that my mental map of London’s property prices might be a bit simplistic. Okay, I know Bloomsbury, say, is more expensive than Barking. But which is better value? Where are you getting more for your money?

Well – enquiring minds need worry no longer, because housing analyst Neal Hudson, who used to work at Savills before he went rogue*, has just published this rather lovely map. It shows property prices per square foot in every London postcode: not the area ones, like N1 or E17, but the individual locations.

And it demonstrates, among other things, that, measured purely on the basis of size, homes in Barking are much better value than those in Bloomsbury. So as long as you’re not worried about location or facilities or that sort of thing, Barking is definitely better.

Bloomsbury and Barking, labelled to enable direct comparions. Sort of.

The map only shows postcodes inside Greater London (which, oddly, means that some homes in London E4, which are technically in Essex, aren’t included). As a result, you can see exactly how arbitrary the city boundaries are in a few places:

On this version I’ve labelled some of the contiguous suburbs that fall outside the city boundaries.

You can also see the surprisingly big areas of the city that done include any homes. In the centre, this is because of parks, or the offices of the City; but further out there’s a surprisng amount of industrial land (in the dark greys that mean “built up”) or open space (in the light grey that mean, well, not).

As to the prices themselves – as you’d expect, they’re highest in the centre. But the most expensive areas, in burning hot whites and yellows, also spread to the west into Kensington and Chelsea, and north into Hampstead.

The cheapest, meanwhile, are generally to be found to by the Thames to the east, especially in the boroughs of Barking and Bexley. In fact, the map shows at a glance many of the prejudices that have been built into London’s social geography for decades. North is more expensive than south; west more than east.

Probably the single most striking thing about the map is the way it highlights the way the character of the river changes as you travel across London. In the West, where the Thames is narrow, pretty and easily crossed, the most expensive properties are those by the river. In the east, where it’s wide, industrial and unbridged, it’s the cheapest.

The unadulterated version. Image: Getty.

Anyway, there’s no doubt loads more interesting stuff to find in here, if you’re minded to spend an hour looking (not least, the relative price in your own area). So why not play with the big version of the map on Hudson’s own website. You can also follow him on Twitter, and should, because he posts lovely maps like this surprisingly often.


*Freelance.

Jonn Elledge is the editor of CityMetric. He is on Twitter as @jonnelledge and also has a Facebook page now for some reason. 

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On Walter Benjamin, and the “Arcades Project”

Passage Verdue, Paris. Image: LPLT/Wikimedia Commons.

In 1940 a small group of refugees were turned away at the French-Spanish border. Having fled the Nazi invasion of France, they hoped to find safety in Spain. One of their number, a German-Jewish philosopher and writer, intended to have travelled onwards to America, where he would certainly be safe. So distraught was he by the refusal he met at the border that he took his own life.

The writer in question was Walter Benjamin, the prominent critical theorist who has contributed so much to our understanding of urban society, and he died with a manuscript close at hand. When asked previously if the briefcase of notes was really necessary to a man fleeing for his life he had replied, “I cannot risk losing it. It must be saved. It is more important than I am.”

The work that Benjamin died protecting was the Arcades Project. It was to be his magnus opus, intended by the author to illuminate the contradictions of modern city life. But it was never finished.

To Benjamin, the subject of the work, the arcades of Paris, were relics of a past social order, where consumerism ruled. The arcades were a precursor to the modern mall, lined with all sorts of shops, cafes and other establishments where visitors could buy into the good life. The area between these two lines of businesses was covered with glass and metal roofs, much like a conservatory: it gave visitors the high street feel in an intimate, sheltered and well-lit setting. You can still find examples of such places in modern London in the Burlington and Piccadilly arcades, both off Piccadilly.

Such arcades proved hugely popular, spreading across Europe’s capitals as the 19th century progressed. By Benjamin’s time, though, his type of shopping area was losing custom to the fancy department stores, and in Paris many of them had been obliterated in Haussmann’s city reforms of the 1850s and ‘60s. Whereas Parisians could once visit 300 arcades, now only 30 remain.

Through his research Benjamin started to see the arcades as representative of a pivotal moment in social history: the point when society became focused on consumption over production. Buying the latest fad product was just an opium, he thought, dulling senses to the true nature of the world. By bringing light to this, he hoped to wake people up from the consumerism of the 19th Century and bring forth some kind of socialist utopia.


He also warned that this shiny veneer of progress was hiding the true state of things. Instead, he revered crusty old cities like contemporary Marseilles and Moscow, where social life was more honest. In this way, Benjamin contributed to the intellectual movement focused on stripping away the excess of revivalism, standing alongside architects such as Le Corbusier. 

Through his newspaper essays throughout the first half of the 20th Century, Benjamin also became one of the first thinkers to focus on urban isolation. His suggestion that we can be most alone when among such a dense mass of other people is something many in modern cities would sympathise with. His work wasn’t all doom and gloom, however, as he saw cities as our salvation, too: laboratories from where society’s problems can be worked out.

It was 2000 before an English translation of the unfinished the Arcades Project was published, but by then the work had already had a significant impact. Just as he stood on the shoulders of giants such as Baudelaire and the Surrealists, modern thinkers have drawn on his work. Benjamin's concerns about common architectural forms can be seen to inspire modern architects such as Laurie Hawkinson, Steven Holl, Tod Williams and Billie Tsien.

The city of Paris itself was as much a part of the Arcade Project’s inspiration for Benjamin as was his intellectual predecessors. In his letters he repeats that it felt “more like home” than Berlin, and his days were spent marvelling at how the old and the modern exist together on the Parisian streets.

How groundbreaking the Arcades Project really was is hard to say. The fact it wasn’t finished certainly scuppered Benjamin’s plans to wake society up from its consumerist slumber, but that doesn’t make the work inconsequential. His fairytale of steel and glass is as much about the relationship between its author and Paris as it is a theoretical work. By putting the city as the main subject in human’s social history he laid the groundwork for future generations of thinkers.

Benjamin was lost to the tragic tide of the 20th century history, and his death marked the end of the project which could have changed the way we think of the urban landscape. Even if you shy away from the grandiose or don’t buy into his promises of socialist utopia, reading the work can still offer some eclectic factoids about 19th century France. At any rate, it must be acknowledged that the man gave his life to the betterment of society and the cities in which we live.