During the boom, the condo market embodied everything that was exciting about being rich and urban. Design was king, LEED was its consort, and investors were eager.

“Irrational exuberance was not only confined to the financiers,” says Witold Rybczynski, a Canadian writer and professor of urbanism at the University of Pennsylvania. “It extended to our taste in architecture and living style, as well.” But after the crash, the downtown condo buyer is comparatively cautious. Immodest fantasies of modern living are passé. Today’s buyers go for the real estate equivalent of practical shoes: affordable, comfortable and homely, and developers are retooling their plans accordingly.

The most successful developers during these dark times have been the big ones, with low-priced product ($380 per square foot) and utterly standard offerings: Tridel and Concord Adex can order everything from kitchens to concrete in bulk, and they stick to their tried-and-true formulas. Their trademark buildings—Hullmark and CityPlace—are glassy versions of the reliable slab towers that went up in the ’60s and ’70s.

“CityPlace is the Walmart of condos,” says Brad Lamb, Toronto’s resident condo guru. “But that’s not a bad thing. The price is good.” At the other end of the spectrum, such developers as Freed, Minto and TAS DesignBuild conceived of condos (Fashion House, Minto King West, Giraffe) that were all about architecture and statement. Their timing, with launches through the summer and fall of 2008, couldn’t have been worse, and without reaching that crucial 70 per cent sold mark, they all stalled, in part or in whole, before breaking ground. Few people were signing up to buy something they couldn’t see.

“You can’t make a living selling new condos anymore,” confirms Lamb, reporting that his recent development projects have been delayed by six months to a year. “Any builder would be lying not to tell you the same thing right now.”

The mindset of a post-bubble buyer vexed the sales team at Empire Communities, a relative newcomer to the high-rise market. They launched Fly at 352 Front Street West last October—days before the Dow’s worst week ever—and when only 25 per cent of the units sold, it was time to reassess. The architects, Graziani and Corazza, made some modifications: the jagged balconies, which looked like shards of glass, were toned down, and suites were divided into smaller and cheaper units. The revamped marketing material looked like a Leon’s clearance flyer, with block type shouting a greatly reduced base price of $159,900. The relaunch, six months later, was packed with eager buyers. Sales reps with clipboards worked until 3 a.m., calling out suite numbers and collecting signatures, and 72 per cent of units sold.

One young first-time buyer about to seal the deal on his 10th-floor corner suite was resolute. “I heard this was a really safe builder,” he said. Architecture? Not a priority; the building looked nice enough to him. The predictable finishes on offer? “They’re fine,” he shrugged. Price per square foot (about $465), location and resale potential—these were top of mind, proving that when cheque books come out during a down­turn, pragmatism trumps aesthetics.