Do you want to live in a building next fall that doesn’t respect you? Look no further than The Standard at Dinkytown, our University of Minnesota’s newest apartment complex designed for student housing.
Towering 17 stories above Dinkytown in an awkward conglomeration of rectangles, the under-construction highrise looks more like the product of a Minecraft server than of a commercial construction company. Clad in uninspiring shades of brown, The Standard is yet another eyesore among Dinkytown’s “luxury” apartments.
The building boasts a variety of amenities, like a clubhouse, gym and even an outdoor pool. You may question the utility of a rooftop pool in a place as cold and windy as Minnesota, but The Standard website assures their building will allow future residents to live their college lives to the fullest.
The Standard can pamper students with boxes of Insomnia Cookies in their newly opened leasing office and tout the promise of “beautiful resort-style amenities” all they want, but their marketing campaign is a pathetic distraction from the fact that the rise of luxury housing in Dinkytown has had detrimental effects on our iconic campus neighborhood.
Before the 2010s, most of Dinkytown housing was clapboard houses and small low-rise apartment buildings. As the University population increased and demand for housing closer to campus skyrocketed, the area experienced a boom in real estate development. First came Sydney Hall followed in quick succession by The Marshall, Venue at Dinkytown and Fieldhouse Dinkytown, to name a few.
Students living closer to campus add vibrancy to our University community, but there’s a right and a wrong way to expand student housing options. Unfortunately, most of Dinkytown has moved in the wrong direction.
Myron Orfield, director of the Institute on Metropolitan Opportunity, said the area around our University has become highly desirable due to its proximity to Minneapolis and St. Paul as well as its various public transit options, which have contributed to the spike in rent prices.
“They could, through zoning, be using density bonuses and set-asides to make sure units are affordable,” Orfield said, “But the city hasn’t been willing to do that.”
Neither have the owners of the buildings themselves.
With prices for a single bedroom in a two-person unit at The Marshall approaching $1,200, and nearly $1,700 for a one-bedroom unit at The Standard, most students in Dinkytown pay a pretty penny if they want to have a room to themselves near campus. As a result, doubling up with roommates is often inevitable, meaning only students who can manage such exorbitant rent are able to live both comfortably and close to campus.
Ash Albera, a second-year student at the University, said when looking for an apartment he mainly prioritizes a building that’s well-maintained, cheap and has unique character.
“I would like to be able to have different options than just a white square,” Albera said.
Crown molding and original millwork may be too much to ask for as a college student, but the new style of apartment complexes in Dinkytown disparages the neighborhood’s architectural history.
“I feel like a lot of it has that gentrified, modern style,” Albera said. “It looks nice on the outside, but when you go inside it’s kind of crappy.”
One of the most iconic parts of Dinkytown is its old buildings, like the old site of Gray’s Campus Drug, the Varsity Theater and Al’s Breakfast, which give our campus neighborhood unique charm.
The new apartment buildings completely ignore that history, covering the streetscape with strangely colored architectural monstrosities designed to cram as many students as possible into shoebox-sized bedrooms.
But the problem with these buildings is more than aesthetic.
Reagan Frystak, who lives in the recently constructed Fieldhouse, said she feels like her building is already trashed after just two years of student use.
“Our microwave just broke this morning,” Frystak said. “We’re paying so much to be there, it should be lasting a lot longer than it actually is.”
Frystak said the building’s smelly hallways, urine stains on the carpet from neighbors’ pets and peeling paint on the walls have affected her quality of life in the building.
“I would definitely say the space you’re getting for the price you’re paying is not worth it,” Frystak said.
The condition of Fieldhouse is not representative of all Dinkytown’s housing stock, but other new apartment buildings have given rise to similarly frustrating problems. Take Identity, for example, which failed to finish construction on time last fall and left hundreds of students without an apartment for the first few weeks of the semester.
All of the drama these buildings have caused the campus community begs the question of why college students need upscale living in the first place. Luxury is what I’ll enjoy if I land a six-figure job, not when I’m already paying thousands of dollars a year for tuition and have no reliable source of income.
As we go through our time at the University, what we truly need are places to live that are affordable, structurally sound and respect our rights as tenants — not saunas, sprawling fitness centers and tanning beds.
There’s nothing inherently wrong with expanding housing options for students. In fact, I’d argue it’s necessary to support our growing student body.
But come on, Dinkytown, Let’s cut the fluff.