Friday, September 01, 2006

 

Guide to Suburban Denver Subdivision Names

One of the things I find irritating is when developers give new suburban housing developments these ridiculous names that attempt to convey that the subdivision is some kind of pristine mountain utopia where only the privileged dwell.

When Denver's original subdivisions were platted in the late 1800s and early 1900s, the subdivisions were usually named after the developer himself, a famous person like a president, or an existing urban or natural element at that location. As the city grew, neighborhood names were eventually used to identify one or more subdivisions that had emerged as a unique area within the city. These early neighborhoods generally had names that reflected something literal about the area: a nearby park, institution, or topographical feature. Thus, we have city center neighborhoods like Capitol Hill, Country Club, Curtis Park, and Sloan's Lake.

As the post-war suburban era dawned, subdivisions and neighborhoods became one and the same, and new residential plats were given names intended to help market the development. These monikers were relatively modest at first, typically two word names that conveyed a pleasant, if partially invented locale. A glance at the Denver metro map gives us many such examples, including Columbine Knolls, Pleasant View, Western Hills, and Heather Ridge.

Over the years, as new subdivisions have stretched farther and farther out onto the plains, their names have become wordier, more elaborate, and more pretentious. Today, there is an obvious trend in the naming of new subdivisions in metro Denver. Developers now use a variety of semantic tricks in their attempt to increase the perceived exclusivity of the development. No longer would something simple and unassuming like "Columbine Knolls" suffice. These days, the first part of the name must clearly identify that the development is not only a residential community, but also one of great distinction, and that these homes of great distinction are located at a place of even greater distinction. Thus, new suburban development names now begin with phrases like "The Estates at..." or "The Preserve at..." or "The Retreat at..." followed by not just one or two words to describe the incredibly special patch of prairie on which these homes have been built, but three words or more.

Suburban developers evidently believe that everyone in Colorado would prefer to live in a secluded alpine hide-away. Consequently, the words they use to describe the invented "place" these dwellings are "at" typically have no historical or physical context to the actual site itself. Instead, various flora, fauna, landform or Western folklore terms are used in clever combinations to evoke a rustic Colorado setting of unparalled beauty and tranquility. So, when you put it all together, your typical new suburban Denver subdivision will follow a template that gives us fabulously fake names like "The Enclave at Panorama Canyon Meadows" or "The Sanctuary at Antelope Bluff Vista." Of course, there is no canyon or antelope or bluff or meadow, but that's beside the point.

Just in case there may be some of you out there considering a career in subdivision naming, I've created this handy guide for crafting your own spectacular suburban Denver neighborhood names. Simply read from left to right, and select any one word from each column. Hundreds of combinations are possible! Mix and match to find just the right name for your mountain paradise on the grassy plain.



What does this have to do with Downtown Denver infill projects? Not much. So far, the vast majority of our Downtown infill projects have had relatively simple names that relate to an existing Downtown street, neighborhood, building, park, or natural feature. Let's keep it that way, shall we? Downtown Denver's rich history gives us plenty of authentic people and places and events from which to draw names for infill projects. I'll get very cranky if I start to see new Downtown residential developments with suburbanesque names like "The Rowhome Collection at Upper Delgany Commons."

Comments:
word up home slice, that is funny!
 
Those names have been a pet peeve of mine as well. How about the "Flats at East Colfax Alley"?
 
John, no no, its The Refuge at East Colfax Crossing.
 
What's worse (and more ironic) is that often these names reflect almost precisely what the development is replacing or ruing.

If it's The Reserves at Antelope Bluff Vista, than you can almost be sure that the development just destroyed the view of a bluff and the habitat of a bunch of antelope, and the only thing it's "reserving" is a 4000 square-foot home for some rich energy executive.
 
Not just neighborhoods -- shopping centers (aka strip malls too). How many times have I seen a sign up that says "The shops at ___ ____ ____." I used to live up in Fort Collins and I can think of several newer strip like developments with such names.
 
I prefer The Village at Wolf Rock Junction

or

The Sanctuary at Harvest Shire Meadows

or

The Dominion at Wolf Canyon Ranch

Very silly indeed :)
 
"The Hearth at Coyote Falls Junction" brilliant!!
 
This sounds about right: "The Biggest House at A Price You Can't Really Afford"
 
Every city has its own disease it seems. On the East Coast it's names ending in "e", where no e should go. Thus, we get absurdities like The Pointe at Olde Towne. Classic fru fru garbage. Or British spellings in California, such as City Centre in San Diego. Por Dios!!!
 
I don't know, "Tower on the Park" is awfully close... at least it's not "Tower at the Park of Pristine Willows".
 
A subdivision here was built on a former woodlot- its name, of course, is Forest Acres. The sign is consistently defaced to read De-Forest Acres.
 
I've often observed that a developer names the new subdivision after whatever his project destroyed, i.e., "Quail Ridge," "The Meadows," etc.
 
The Foreclosures at ARM Regret
 
So you know, because of this post, I changed the name of our next project from The Park at One Riverfront to The Park ONE Riverfront. Sure, all we did was get rid of the "at" but it's something. In all honesty, I think the reason developers use the "at" naming convention is because they want to distinguish each individual project from the larger context while still branding the bigger project.

In this example, The Park is an 18 unit second phase of ONE Riverfront Park but it is distinct from ONE - same HOA, same garage, but a different type of residence in a separate building.

Still, I like The Park ONE Riverfront a lot better.
 
Dude you forgot, Water! Water Tree Ranch, etc. etc., etc. ad nauseam - Cowicide
 
As a developer, I find it funny when people complain about this sort of trivia. Bottom line is the neighborhood names are usually driven by a) marketing types or b) the local planning department. A developer simply wants a name that can wont make someone throw up. Furthermore, consider that development is one of the few businesses that is driven almost entirely by market forces. If the homes were bad, no one would buy them. Complaints, therefore, should be given to the person who stares at you from the mirror.
 
Sadly, this naming scheme could be applied to communities just about anywhere in North America - they have no sense of place or context, it is pure marketing.

I personally would support municipal bylaws that prevent the naming of frivolous and/or vexatious subdivision names
 
It's not just hundreds of combinations, it's 21^4, or 194481.

For extra credit, try writing a nice little javascript to pick one at random!
 
a building block that is missing (pun premeditated) is the word North. As in North Elk Valley. sometimes it is west or east but never south.
In suburban chicago all permutations are soon to be exusted. soon there will be a suburb called Park Park.
 
If you can get hold of it, the book "Caste Marks" by Paul Fussell (published 1984) is one of the best guides to the topic of middle-class pretension. Although it is twenty years old and some of the specifics have changed, the underlying principles remain current.
 
I count something over 194,000 possible combinations. My heart bleeds for the millions who may end up living in them.
 
Man, you are one word off from having the name of my subdivision in the St. Louis area - "Spring Valley Woods". We don't get much of the "The Estates at..." stuff in this area, but there are plenty of arbitrary conjuctions of words to be made into subdivision names, like "Timberwood Trails"
 
this urban planning student loves your naming table! *bookmarks for future citation in exurbia-themed projects*
 
Years ago in Florida (in the days of two-word names) there was a development called "Hidden Pines". Of course, it was all piney woods before the developer started there. The first thing done was to bulldoze all the pine trees. Definately hidden.

Naming is all the same all over now. Only some of the words on the right hand side change.
 
When I lived in California I was fed up with this too. I created my own fictional town, actually. "Rancho de la San Mesa".

Ranch of the Saint Table.

Doesn't mean anything, but ooooo, doesn't it sound SouthWestern?
 
Simple script to generate subdivision name:
(Indentation may be mangled due to comment format)

function generateDenverSubName()
{
type = [ "Collection", "Dominion", "Enclave",
"Estates", "Harbor", "Haven",
"Hearth", "Homes", "Homestead",
"Manor", "Plantation", "Preserve",
"Quarters", "Refuge", "Reserve",
"Residences", "Resort", "Retreat",
"Sanctuary", "Summit", "Village"];

first = [ "Antelope", "Buffalo", "Coyote",
"Eagle", "Elk", "Harvest",
"Hawk", "Horizon", "Mountain",
"Panorama", "Pine", "Prairie",
"Saddle", "Shadow", "Silver",
"Sky", "Spring", "Thunder",
"Timber", "Wild", "Wolf" ];

second = [ "Bluff", "Branch", "Brook",
"Canyon", "Cliff", "Creek",
"Crest", "Edge", "Falls",
"Gap", "Gate", "Glen",
"Gulch", "Lake", "Peak",
"River", "Rock", "Tree",
"Valley", "View", "Wood" ];

third = [ "Acres", "Butte", "Commons",
"Crossing", "Farms", "Gardens",
"Heights", "Highlands", "Hills",
"Junction", "Knoll", "Landing",
"Meadows", "Park", "Place",
"Pointe", "Ranch", "Ridge",
"Run", "Trails", "Vista" ];

i = Math.floor(Math.random() * type.length);
j = Math.floor(Math.random() * first.length);
k = Math.floor(Math.random() * second.length);
l = Math.floor(Math.random() * third.length);

name = "The " + type[i] + " at " + first[j] + " " + second[j] + " " + third[l];

return name;
}

alert(generateDenverSubName());
 
As I read this from my apartment at The Retreat at Fox Hollow in suburban Lakewood, it's pretty damned funny.
 
I was thinking something along the lines of, "The Sanctuary at Five Points Canyon." This is brilliant! Let's start a revolution!
 
It is also similarly quite noticable here in Orlando FL. But what is even more stunning than the names is how and where they are used. I live on the south east side of Orlando and unincorporated Orange County Fl. This area is quite distinct in the prominence of wetlands, lakes, swamps and forests. I live in one such forest. On a daily basis, large forests disappear. They are buldozed into large pyres. The remaining barren and desolate tract is repopulated with subdivisions with names that have 'preserve', 'reserve', 'forest' and similar phrasing in them. New multi-lane roads are built to get you to your mcmansion at the 'Retreat' or 'Refuge'.

Oh, and what about the neo-words like "stonewood" that are created?

And I think every city must have at least 100 subdivisions named from the "compass rose", like eastwood, eastlake, northshore, etc.

Oh, and we too have a list of mythical subdivisions - Savanah Trace (no savanahs down here), Falcon trace (no falcons; the forest that was wiped out was the former home of bald eagles however). I'll have to look for 'hills', 'ridge' and such - no hills, ridges or mountains down here either...

/ rant>
 
Even better is the trend to add an 'E' to the end of names, or spell them off a little like:
Sunmarke or Canterberry
 
Ok, sure suburban subdivision names are awful but what about all the Italian and French names for dondo towers in a place like Reno? deNovo, Montage, Palladio....ech. As if a foreign language name will grant residents some level of sophistication they wouldnt get living in a place called Park Towers (on the park by the way).
 
The anonymous developer mentioned:

"Furthermore, consider that development is one of the few businesses that is driven almost entirely by market forces. If the homes were bad, no one would buy them".

The first statement is in bad need of explanation. What business isn't driven by market forces? How is development - a heavily regulated sector that relies mightily on government cooperation - more market-driven than other businesses? Unless you're referring to the instability of property values, which respond more directly to market pressures than, say, cut flowers (although there was a big tulip hubbub once).

The second statement works fine if you live in the pages of an economic textbook. People buy bad houses all the time. People buy ugly clothes, ridiculous cars, crap food, and any one of a thousand purchases that constitute terrible decisions. The decisions that run the greatest risk of being terrible are often the ones in which the most is at stake, financially and emotionally.

In fact, given all the low-rate long-term mortgages currently enabling people to move into the vinyl-and-chipboard mansions of their dreams, it seems that the emotional factor is more significant than ever. In such an environment, meaningless but enticing names are not trivia. They're a sales tool. If you don't believe me, imagine buying a luxurious five-bedroom manor at The Tailings at Cancer Mills or The Port-a-Potties at Scum Ponds.

The developer seems to be amused by the discussion. As a developer, you should also remember that we're a potential market. Unless, of course, your business is driven by contracts with governments and not direct sales to people. Then you're insulated from market forces and don't need to bother with the concerns of folks like us.
 
I lived in an apartment complex called Rosemary Ridge(only two words!) I thought it was lame until I realized a) The complex actually was on a slight ridge and b) it was on Rosemary Drive.
 
Proud owner of a Single Family Home (like I'd want other families living in my house) located in bleak and barren "Windflower at Crystal Valley Ranch" in Castle Rock. I've often commented on the fact that they name these monstrosities after whatever used to be there before they bulldozed it. Or thy just use the Bullcrap Name Generator.
 
Just North of the aforementioned Columbine Knolls is a newly developing area that's been annoying me - named, Vintage Reserve. It used to be a bucolic plot of farm with great views of the mountains and with tons of very old trees. Those were scraped and up went brand new cream and brown $400,000+ track houses. Not sure where the Vintage nor the Reserve comes into play in this name. I'm also 99% certain that wine was never made on this land. Unbelievable.
 
We have a subdivision called "New Neighborhood in Old Davidson" in Davidson, NC because the developer was trying so hard not to name it. Much to his chagrin, the locals call it NUDA.
 
I predict that the next naming trend will try to capitalize on growing ecological awareness - while not actually adhering to the goals of that movement.

New "smart" developments will be called Sustainable Acres, Green Towne, New Urbania or Eco-Dwell. But other than superficial differences, say - design touches by Philip Starck, they will really be no different from The Quarters at Horizon Gulch Pointe.
 
It reminds me of Calvin Trillin's "La Casa du Maison House."
 
I used to live in a rural development called "Swan Pointe." No swans but lots of dead possums. Should have been "The Estates at Possum Run" ???
 
"As a developer, I find it funny when people complain about this sort of trivia. Bottom line is the neighborhood names are usually driven by a) marketing types or b) the local planning department."

It's not editorial, it's humor. Some of the names are just plain silly, it is what it is.

However, the names would not be nearly so ironic if so many developers did not bulldoze everything that existed before the subdivisions went up. Having lived in heavily wooded parts of the country, I've seen this happen myself many times. Personally I'd rather live among large, pre-existing trees than a bunch of 15-foot replanted saplings that will be full-sized when I am dead. What's up with that?
 
This may be a late response to this thread, but I just found it. Guess we're lucky to live in just 'Crosswinds' subdivision. One word only, but then its over 20 years old. Also, wanted to remark that forgot "Cove" and "Bay" from the list. I've seen Colony Cove before and Thunder Bay.
 
Absolutely right on target. And the names will only get more ridiculous with the housing slowdown which is more pronounced in the new developments with excess inventory.

So soon it will probably need 7 or 8 names to justify interest such as the "The undeniably unique Estates at Golden Meadows Crossing!!!".

Surely a sign of desperation.
 
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