Esmeralda Shows Us How to Sell Urbanism

Stop pitching zoning and bike lanes. Start inviting people into a way of life.

Most towns say they want to be walkable, affordable, and vibrant.

(At least, the comprehensive plan collecting dust in the planning office says that.)

But very few can explain what life in a town like that is actually supposed to feel like.

And that’s the real gap we need to solve for. Not infrastructure. Not zoning.

Vision.

The kind that truly invites people in. The kind that pulls much more than a planning commission meeting (he said with all love and respect to the awesome planners that read this newsletter every week and do a great job in their communities!).

What does that actually look like in practice? How do you cast vision in a way that is high-enough level to be compelling to a broad audience while still rooting it in the nerdy urbanist policies and priorities that enable that kind of place to exist?

Look no further than Esmeralda.

Esmeralda is a new town being developed from scratch. It’s still early. But what makes it worth paying attention to isn’t the design or the density. It’s the clarity of purpose.

This is a place that isn’t just trying to check the urbanism boxes. It’s trying to articulate a way of life.

The inspiration behind Esmeralda, founded by Devon Zuegel, comes from Chautauqua, New York: a quirky lakeside town known for its summer programming and shared rhythms.

Lectures in the morning. Ballet in the evening. Kids roaming freely on foot and bike.

Not just a place that works well. A place that means something.

Most cities never get past “walkable” or “affordable” as the end goal. But Esmeralda is trying something different. It’s not just laying out streets and calling it a day. It’s casting a vision for a way of life. “Here’s what this place is about. Here’s the kind of people it’s for. Here’s how we want it to feel. Here’s what we want life to look like.”

That doesn’t come from a 2040 Comprehensive Plan.

That comes from deciding what kind of story you want to live in, generating buy-in, and building around that.

Most towns don’t have the luxury of starting from scratch like Esmeralda. But the lesson is still entirely relevant.

Instead of focusing on policy goals, cities need to start with a picture of what life can tangibly look like. Not just aesthetically, but practically:

• Do we want kids to be able to walk down the street and feel safe?

• Do we want the hundreds of cyclists in our community to have safe places without competing with cars? And to ride quickly? (Every town has at least 100 Lance Armstrong impressionists)

• Do we want drivers constantly worrying about hitting cyclists riding way under the speed limit?

• Do we want our food scene to primarily be fast casual chains and drive-thru’s? Or do we want to have a robust, locally-driven culinary scene with lots of great spots?

• Do we want to be a place where people have their house before driving to another place to actually do life? Or do we want life to be done here? On a Friday night, can a group of teenagers, a young married couple, or a family of five stay in town to have fun?

• Do the children that grew up here have options of housing they can rent or buy as young adults so they can stay put and be members of the community for life if they so choose? Or do they have to wait until they achieve a certain financial status to afford becoming part of the community again?

It’s not just "affordable housing," but what kind of community you want that housing to support.

Not just “bikeable,” but what kind of life that bikeability unlocks. (Is bikeability a word?)

Towns always pitch the infrastructure and the policies. They never pitch the life.

And until they do, the buy-in will be shallow, the pushback will be constant, and the results will fall short.

Dare to cast a vision. Don’t invite people into policy positions.

Invite them into a way of life.