From Legible London to Cleveland, Ohio: how maps can make sense of strange cities

Legible London at work. Image take from the cover of Steer Davies Gleave's evaluation of the system.

London can be a confusing place to be a stranger. It has no unifying grid system; no Haussmann-era boulevards to offer sight lines. Streets run at all angles, turn back on themselves, change names or stop without warning. Those who don't know the city tend to fall back on the tube map for navigation; but that brings its own problems, making adjacent spots look far apart, and missing out entire districts. London's tourists spend a lot of time being lost.

A few will receive offers of help from someone like Tim Fendley. He tells one story of a party of South Americans, staring in bafflement at one of the hundreds of different spider-maps that portray part of the city's bus networks, trying to work out why it didn't match the tube map in their guide book. He tells another of a German family, on the verge of requiring counselling because of the father's refusal to accept that any city could be so ludicrous as to position a station called Bond Street on a street that wasn't called that. Fendley, he explains, “pretends to be a helpful Londoner as a form of research”.


Fendley, you see, has an ulterior motive. He’s the founder and creative partner of Applied, a mapping consultancy which promises to “push the boundaries of information design”. Its ambition, to make it possible to navigate any city, however unfamiliar, is written into the name of the system of maps and signs it designed for the British capital: Legible London.

“Cities are wonderfully complex, and wonderfully hard to pin down,” Fendley tells me in Applied's office in Clerkenwell. But “they are starting to wake up to the need to explain themselves. Fifteen years ago, councils wouldn't employ urban designers: they were seen as a bit odd. Now, nearly every council in the UK is going to have an urban design team.”

London is an extreme case, but it’s hardly unusual for a city to be hard to navigate. The new cities of the Gulf have grown up without comprehensive address systems, making life difficult for everyone from taxi drivers to basically anyone waiting for a parcel. In Seoul, Fendley points out, an American-style grid of six lane highways has been laid over an organically grown Asian city; and buildings in each neighbourhood were, until recently, numbered not by their location but by the order in which they were built.

But it's the inconsistencies of naming in Cleveland, Ohio, that have been occupying Applied recently. The city receives a fair number of tourists, most of whom come to watch sports; but relatively few of them stick around and explore. So it's turned to the firm’s recently established New York office to design a new set of maps of the downtown to encourage them to stick around.

Applied's vision of Downtown Cleveland.

The biggest barrier to doing so at the moment is the inconsistencies in naming, which can sometimes make it surprisingly difficult to work out where you are at all. While exploring the city himself, Fendley found himself unable to find a venue called the Rock Hall. He could find the famous Rock & Roll Hall of Fame – that was easy – but not the other Rock Hall, that people kept telling him about. “People just laughed,” he says. The two were the same place.

Then there's the fact that so many of the city's neighbourhoods have had names imposed on them by developers; one area had ended up with five of them. Part of Applied's job in drawing up its new maps was simply to get agreement on what to call places. “Even if you don't like the new name you're all better off calling it the same thing,” Fendley says. “A lot of what we do is nomenclature.”

The same applies in London too, where the firm has come up with a three tier system. At the top of the hierarchy sit the “districts” such as the City or West End, names for large swathes of the city. Each of these is made up of “villages”: areas like Soho or Holborn, with which most Londoners will be familiar, and many of which were once literal villages.

Image: Applied/TfL.

And beneath that, you’ll find your “neighbourhood”. That’s your immediate surroundings, no more than a few streets – the area which you wouldn't consider it a chore to cross to buy a cup of coffee. These generally take their names from dominant streets or buildings.

Image: Applied/TfL.

So this point...

 

...is the Carnaby neighbourhood of Soho (a village), in the West End (a district).

That said, London is a mess, and there are places where this clean and logical system falls apart. “The structure breaks down around Trafalgar Square,” Fendley says, “because of the density of very high powered nodes”. Trafalgar Square isn't “in” Soho or St James or Westminster, it's just Trafalgar Square; the same applies to neighbouring points like Piccadilly Circus or Leicester Square.

London’s cycle hire docking stations are generally labelled with the name of their village, to tell you which bit of town you’re in; those around Trafalgar Square, though, refer simply to “West End”. That feels a bit of a cop out.

But, Fendley says, we navigate as much by landmarks ("nodes") as by districts; and the firm's chosen naming convention for the heart of London was the result of extensive research about what people called that area. 

“Legible London isn't about cleaning it up,” Fendley says. “We just reflect what's there.” This act of cataloguing, he argues, is an important business. “Councils can rename streets, but nobody is responsible for the names of areas. So we said, we're not going to play god, but we are going to look after this.”


All this is very exciting to map geeks like me. (Our discussion had a distinctly fractured quality, because I kept spotting interesting things on the maps adorning the meeting room's walls, and demanding he explained it to me as if I were a small child in the Natural History Museum.) But Fendley points to a number of ways better mapping can have a real tangible impact too. London's tube is crowded with people taking journeys that’d be much easier on foot if only people knew how. Maps can open up new areas of the city to visitors, too. Applied's research found the 86 per cent of visitors to Oxford Street never get off the main drag to explore the neighbouring districts, simply “because they're not aware of them. They can't see it, so it's not there.”

The biggest argument, though, is that better signage is relatively cheap. Fendley reckons that rolling out Legible London signage to the entire city would cost £50m; it can easily cost that much to refurbish one tube station. “Infrastructure is hardware. That's expensive. This is the software.”

The Legible London maps can be seen on free standing signs in some areas, and at public transport locations more widely. (Some of them, incidentally, flip their perspective from the normal north-is-up convention, so that "up" is whatever is in front of you.) But there are still huge swathes of outer London that they don't seem to cover. Nonetheless Applied has come up with names for everywhere: a list released after a freedom of information request last year showed that there were 767 villages and 3,345 neighbourhoods.

All these could soon be visible to the world. The firm is now working on a zoomable online version of the map, that'll cover the whole of London and include postcodes too.

“It's all about answering four questions,” he says. “Where am I? Where is it? How do I get here? And what else is here?” Once the app arrives, visitors to London may have answers at last.

 
 
 
 

Outdoor dining is a lifeline for restaurants, but cities don’t always make it easy

(Jamie McCarthy/Getty Images)

In downtown Toronto, café owners Toula and Peter Bekiaris were recently granted something to help them through the Covid-19 pandemic: a piece of the street outside their doors.

They got this space for their pastry and coffee shop, Filosophy, through a city-led initiative called CaféTO, created in response to the pandemic. The programme helps clusters of neighbouring restaurants want to set up outdoor patios on streets or sidewalks. As part of the initiative, Filosophy was able to expand from a two-seater bench out front to an eight-seat curbside patio, allowing it to welcome back patrons to a plot of the street separated from traffic by orange and black pylons.

“To have that little slice of pre-Covid feeling is rejuvenating for sure,” Toula Bekiaris says.


As the pandemic brings a generation of bars and restaurants to the brink of collapse, cities everywhere are seeing businesses spill out of their front doors and onto nearby sidewalks and streets. For many desperate small business owners, it’s their last best hope to claw back any business at all.

Bekiaris said the program brought her block back to life – but it also left her with a question. Toronto bylaws don’t normally make it easy for bars and restaurants to have sidewalk and curbside patios. She wondered, “My gosh, why are we not able to do this more regularly?”

Many cities have long had strict rules and steep fees that govern outdoor dining in public spaces. In places that were slow to adapt, or that haven’t adapted at all, this has caused tension for restaurant owners who are just trying to survive.

In Tel Aviv, for example, a schnitzel restaurant owner was filmed begging police to not issue him a ticket for having tables on the sidewalk outside of his shop. In New York City, businesses openly flouted rules that initially forbade outdoor eating and drinking. In the typically traffic-clogged Lima – the capital of Peru, one of the hardest-hit nations in the world for Covid – patios are scattered across sidewalks, but don’t have access to street space, which is still mainly centred around cars. “In the present-day context, the street has never been more important,” urban designer Mariana Alegre writes in a Peruvian newspaper.

As the terrasse aesthetic made famous by Paris and Montreal finds footing in cities that aren’t typically known for outdoor patronage, business owners and officials alike are finding that it’s not as simple as setting up some tables and chairs outside. The experiences of five different cities trying to embrace outdoor patios offer some useful lessons for understanding what can go wrong, and how it can be done right.

Vilnius


Vilnius was an early adopter of the outdoor dining trend. (Petras Malukas/AFP via Getty Images)

In April, the Lithuanian capital made global headlines for promising to allow bars and restaurants to use public space to set up a “giant outdoor café.”

“Plazas, squares, streets – nearby cafés will be allowed to set up outdoor tables free of charge this season,” Vilnius’s mayor Remigijus Šimašius said at the time.

There were good intentions behind the plan, but a report by nightlife consultancy VibeLab suggests the city didn’t quite pull it off. The Vilnius case study in the report says physical distancing was hard to maintain on narrow streets. There was a lack of government planning and communication. The city didn’t measure the economic impact of the initiative. Locals complained about street noise.

Mark Adam Harold, Vilnius’s night mayor and the founder of Vilnius Night Alliance, said in the VibeLab report that the “appearance of vibrancy in the streets of Vilnius led to a decrease in public support for the still-struggling hospitality sector, as people assumed the economic crisis was over.”

Still, the political will to do something radical – even if it meant mistakes were made in the process – can be a foreign concept in some places. Vilnius showed that change, often so slow in municipal politics, can happen fast in extenuating circumstances.

In July, Vilnius took it a step further, closing down some central streets to car traffic as a way to lure different kinds of people to the Old Town. “Cars cannot dominate the most sensitive and beautiful part of our city. Vilnius is choosing to be a city of the future now,” said Šimašius.  

New York City


New York City plans to bring back outdoor dining again in the spring of 2021. (Theo Wargo/Getty Images)

As soon as it was warm enough to eat and drink outside, New Yorkers were doing it. The empty streets and desolate sidewalks made it easy to claim a piece of pavement – prompting some to jump the gun on Phase 2 reopening. “I need every dollar I can get,” a Little Italy restaurant owner said, explaining his guerrilla patio to Eater back in June. “I’m hanging on by a shoestring here.”

Since those early pandemic days, New York City has moved to formalise outdoor dining, launching its Open Restaurants and Open Streets programmes. They allow establishments to set up sidewalk and curbside patios for patrons, and in some cases, even extend their restaurant’s real estate right across the street. The city says more than 9,000 businesses have signed up for Open Restaurants since June. It’s been such a success that the mayor’s office said it would do it again in the spring of 2021.

"In just two months, Open Restaurants has helped re-imagine our public spaces – bringing New Yorkers together to safely enjoy outdoor dining and helping to rescue a critical industry at the same time," said DOT Commissioner Polly Trottenberg in a news release announcing the 2021 extension.

Kristin Vincent is an owner of Sel Rrose, Home Sweet Home and Figure 19 in New York City, as well as a Sel Rrose location in Montauk. She says she already had a sidewalk patio permit for Sel Rrose in Manhattan’s Lower East Side prior to the pandemic, for which she pays approximately $25,000 annually, usually paid in three-month installments. When the last installment came due, the city waived payment.

Vincent says the city’s also been more lax about monitoring the sidewalk, which she has warmly welcomed. “They used to police outdoor seating – if you went an inch outside the zone of where you’re supposed to be, you’d get a ticket. If you stayed open for 10 minutes past when you were supposed to [close], you’d get a ticket. If neighbours were complaining that you’re outside, they’d pull your outdoor seating away. It was such an ‘honour’ to have outdoor seating,” she says.

Vincent sincerely hopes the city reconsiders its entire approach to outdoor seating even after the pandemic has ended – but she isn’t sure that’s realistic. While Home Sweet Home and Figure 19 have remained closed because of lack of outdoor space, she has had to manage a never-ending list of changing rules for the two Sel Rrose locations. Most recently, she’s had to contend with New York City’s ban on selling alcoholic drinks without food.

“Why can’t it just be drinks?” she asks. If the goal is to prevent the spread of Covid-19, she wonders why they’re still enforcing Prohibition-style rules on to-go drinks. Those little details add up, Vincent says, making it challenging for bars and restaurants to make money. Right now, the Lower East Side location is earning around 30% of the sales it made this time last year.

The nitpicking isn’t unique to New York City. At the Montauk location, she built an outdoor patio in preparation for opening only to be told it was in the wrong place. That said, that location is doing better (about 65% of sales) because the area is a phase ahead of the city, allowing for 50% indoor seating capacity.

She says allowing indoor seating will be critical to New York City bars and restaurants as summer turns to fall, and fall turns to winter. “We have to open inside – have to. We’ll even take 50%,” she says.

Montreal


Montreal reduced its usual fee for terrasse permits. (Eric Thomas/AFP via Getty Images)

Sergio Da Silva’s Montreal bar and music venue, Turbo Haüs, has been skating by on the thinnest of margins. The Latin Quarter business was closed for months, finally reopening as a terrasse-only bar in the second week of July. 

In terms of Covid measures, Montreal has pedestrianised key streets including St-Denis, where Turbo Haüs is located (for what it’s worth, it normally pedestrianises St-Denis during the summer). It also reduced the terrasse permit fee, and in Turbo Haüs’s case waived the $3,000–$4,000 it would have owed the city as reimbursement for the three metered parking spaces taken over by its mega-terrasse. But Da Silva still paid $2,000 to comply with the rest of the permitting process, including the $500 in permit fees he paid prior to the Covid discount.

Anecdotally, he says, it seems the city’s invitation to businesses to set up terrasses hasn’t been met with the kind of speed some businesses were hoping for. His neighbour across the street applied for a permit, and was still waiting even after Turbo Haüs opened. “The entire process just seemed more difficult than it was before,” he says.

It’s been a frustrating summer. It was supposed to be the bar’s time to squirrel away money for the quieter winter season. Instead, Da Silva says, he’s mostly just making enough to stay open right now. “This would have been a really, really good summer for us. We had everything in place to put a giant dent in all our debts, and we were looking forward to actually paying ourselves a livable sum. And then this kind of thing happened,” he says. He predicts this winter is when the thread that so many bars and restaurants are holding onto will finally snap.

“You should wait to see what it looks like in the winter slow season,” he says. “That's when a lot of places are actually going to be shutting down.”

Assuming most bars and restaurants won’t be able to operate at 50% or greater capacity in the winter, a small business rent forgiveness programme that gives money to tenants (rather than directly to landlords) may be the only way governments can prevent mass closures.

Tel Aviv


Tel Aviv's approach to outdoor dining left many restaurants wondering if they would be able to survive. (Jack Guez/AFP via Getty Images)

Tel Aviv’s outdoor patio story has emerged in fits and starts. In May, Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu told people to “Go out and have a good time”.

In early July, The Times of Israel published the video of the schnitzel restaurateur pleading with police not to fine him for having a couple of tables and chairs out on the sidewalk. “Business owners give this city culture, entertainment. There’s no work and I’m even fined! I have three kids to feed, where will I get the money from?” he cried.

Three days later, the Israeli metropolis published a news release saying it was sacrificing road space for on-street dining platforms in its trendy restaurant district, on Chayim Vital Street. The city also pedestrianised 11 streets, placing chairs and umbrellas in the new car-free zones to encourage people to use their new public space. The following day, the city gave restaurants only a few hours’ warning about an open-ended closure order, which many restaurateurs vowed to disobey. They won, but within the same month, 34 restaurants were fined for serving unmasked patrons.

The backlash Tel Aviv has received from the bar and restaurant industry has been deserved. The lack of clear guidelines, ever-changing rules and unavailability of aid and support has left many businesses in the lurch, wondering if they’ll ever be able to come back from Covid.

Toronto

In pre-Covid times, Harsh Chawla says his popular Indian restaurant Pukka would routinely turn around 250 seats on a normal Saturday. Now, in a summer without tourism, nor Toronto’s Summerlicious restaurant festival, nor indoor dining, his 24-seat curbside patio has been a saving grace. “I always say, anything better than zero is a win for us,” he says.

Chawla says he helped rally his neighbours around CaféTO’s proposal of shutting down on-street parking spaces in favor of dining nooks. He came up against worries that reduced parking would mean reduced business for them – a common concern that a growing body of research demonstrates is not actually true. Eventually his stretch of St. Clair Street West came to a compromise allowing for the conversion of some parking spots.

Trevor McIntyre, global director of placemaking at IBI Group, is a consultant on the CaféTO programme. He sees the lane and parking spot closures as big wins in a city that allocates an incredible amount of space to cars, even with mounting pedestrian and cyclist deaths. “We've slowed down traffic considerably – cars slow down, the whole pace slows down. You take away the on-street parking, and it encourages people to get out and walk. You start seeing higher volumes of people,” says McIntyre.

In this experiment, curbside patios and more heavily pedestrianised areas are driving more business to areas than parking does. Chawla likes the results.

“Hopefully we do this next year, and the year after, and the year after, because I think it gives us character to the street, it gives character to the neighbourhood,” says the restaurateur. “Our summers are so short-lived in Canada, in Toronto – so why not have more spaces outside so people can enjoy it?”

Tracey Lindeman is a freelance writer based in Ottawa.