A rendering of the Allies & Morrison Beltline Yards project, a a 1.7 million-square-foot mixed-use development near Dufferin and Eglinton in Toronto.Allies and Morrison
Toronto, says architect and urban designer Alfredo Caraballo, “is on the up.” In British English, that means the city is on the rise; the phrase carries a sense of momentum. To hear it from Caraballo is to sense not just a forecast but a wager. Allies and Morrison, the London-based firm where he’s a partner, has opened a Toronto office, and with it a new chapter in the city’s architectural story.
Allies and Morrison (A&M) are not just designers of buildings – they are orchestrators of urban possibility. Can you conjure a neighborhood from scratch, one that feels lived-in before the first resident arrives? If anyone can, it’s them.
Toronto is no stranger to A&M’s touch. Over the past decade, the firm has been quietly sketching the outlines of the city’s future: a sprawling 36-building vision in south Etobicoke, the Beltline Yards proposal near Dufferin and Eglinton, and a reimagining of the Port Lands’ Ookwemin Minising. Until now, they’ve been foreign consultants. The new studio signals something a belief that Toronto is ready to build better.
Bentline Yards: A new development redefines Toronto urban design
Bozikovic: Toronto’s new island promises a greener, livelier city
The Toronto group is led by Angie Jim Osman, who grew up in British Columbia and now splits her time between London and Toronto; Caraballo; Neil Shaughnessy, who relocated from London; and local architect Ross Carter-Wingrove.
“We really believe in Toronto,” Jim Osman says. “The ambition that we have is matched by the Toronto spirit and the Canadian spirit. There is a can-do attitude in the city, a sense that we can change our current environment.”
Such optimism is rare, but A&M have found fertile ground. With ten Canadian projects underway – most still under wraps – they’re not just testing the waters. They’re diving in.
Their Toronto debut came with 2150 Lake Shore, a redevelopment of the old Christie Cookie plant in Etobicoke. It was a bold move: importing a British sensibility to a Canadian context, and trusting that the city would respond.
They brought with them a philosophy Caraballo calls the “urban picturesque.” This sensibility resists uniformity and embraces difference. Buildings vary in size, shape, and colour. Streets curve and meander. Squares emerge not as grand statements but as gentle surprises. The city becomes a textured conversation between awnings and shrubs, towers and stoops.
This ethos animates Beltline Yards, a 2.7-hectare redevelopment stitched into a former industrial corridor. Here, A&M reject the city’s tired podium-and-tower formula in favour of varied public spaces and squares. Buildings that are allowed, even encouraged, to differ; their ground floors are robust and flexible. Caraballo calls this a “framework with room for expression.”
That phrase could double as a manifesto. Big projects unfold over decades, and the best designs anticipate change. (2150 Lake Shore is already seeing its design diluted by development partners and different architects; at least the blocks remain intact.)
The best designs anticipate change such as 2150 Lakeshore in Toronto by Allies and Morrison Architects as seen in this rendering.Allies and Morrison
In Canada, urban design in Canada is a stepchild of a discipline, suspended between architecture, landscape architecture and planning. When a new block or neighbourhood is being imagined, the big ideas typically come from one of a few consultant firms who mix design and planning. These firms, in turn, tend to give municipal planners what they want.
The result is a formulaic orthodoxy: buildings of similar size and shape, wide, car-friendly streets, parks as sun-drenched lawns. Architecture arrives late to the party, disconnected from the original vision.
The faces behind Allies and Morrison Architects are (clockwise from left) Angie Jim Osman, Alfredo Caraballo, Neil Shaughnessy and Ross Carter Wingrove.Allies and Morrison
A&M operate differently. Their tradition sees building and urbanism as a continuum, conceived together. Their work on London’s King’s Cross – perhaps the most celebrated new neighborhood in British urbanism – is a case in point. There, a historic granary anchors a public square. Offices, apartments, and shops line winding streets. A building led by Jim Osman seasons white brick with a dash of sage green and windows that wink at Victorian warehouses.
King’s Cross isn’t flawless, but it may be the best new neighborhood of the past generation in Europe or North America. A&M understand the trick: to mimic the organic variety of cities that evolved over time. That means pushing back on real-estate logic to insist on a variety of spaces and buildings; embracing historic detail and structure; even welcoming a costume-party playfulness that recalls 1970s Postmodernism. It means loving cities, and especially the city you’re in.
Here that love is evident. A&M has prepared drawings of the city’s industrial architecture—not as nostalgic gestures, but as acts of curiosity. They’re not just building in Toronto. They’re learning from it.
Whether Toronto is ready to reciprocate remains uncertain. But A&M are not here to erect monuments; they are here to make places. If they succeed, they may help Toronto do something it has long struggled to do: become more fully, more confidently, itself.