If you took all the clichs about horrible urban design and  shoved them into 75 acres, youd probably end up with something  pretty close to Dallas Victory Park. A pre-planned  billion-dollar collection of imposing hyper-modern monumental  structures, high-end chain stores, enormous video screens,  expensive restaurants, a sports arena and tons of parking,  completely isolated from the rest of the city by a pair of  freeways, Victory Park is like the schizophrenic dream of some  power-hungry capitalist technocrat.
    Or in this case, his sons. The  neighborhood? development?     was built by Ross Perot Jr. as an urban lifestyle    destination. But what it really is is an entertainment    district: that swath of cityscape whose character has been    preordained by a city council vote and is now identified by    brightly colored banners affixed to lampposts. (The    entertainment districts close cousin, the arts district, is    often lurking somewhere nearby.)  
    What could be wrong with a district where nightclubs and    galleries are encouraged to thrive? Nothing, necessarily; done    right, a city can help foster these scenes with a gentle    guiding hand. Constructing an entire milieu from whole cloth,    however, is where cities get into trouble. The problem with    these created-overnight districts is that youre trying to    create a culture as opposed to letting one grow, says    Nathaniel Hood, a Minneapolis-based transportation planner.    Youre getting the culture that one developer or city council    member thinks the city needs, as opposed to the ground-up    culture that comes from multiple players.  
    Victory Park is an extreme example, hyper-planned right down to    the performances to be held at its American Airlines Center.    (A U2 concert is fabulous, Perot told    the Wall Street Journal. KISS, not so good.) But the Dallas    Arts District, though less micro-managed, has struggled with    its identity as well. Conceived in the 1970s by design    consultants in faraway Boston, it relocated the citys arts    institutions to the northeast corner of downtown. Another    planning consultancy drew the boundaries of the district, and    one by one, the citys cultural icons were moved there. Today,    it contains the Morton H. Meyerson Symphony Center, the Nasher    Sculpture Center, the Dallas Museum of Art, and the Winspear    Opera House. Its home to buildings by Renzo Piano, I.M. Pei,    Rem Koolhaas and Norman Foster. In fact, youll find everything    in the Dallas Arts District except a lot of people, says    Patrick Kennedy, owner of the Space Between Design Studio and    the blog Walkable    DFW.  
    A district inherently becomes a single-use idea, says    Kennedy. Everything has to be art. You end up with a bunch    of performing arts spaces and when theyre not in use it    becomes a vacuum. This vacuum has made the district itself a    museum of sorts, something impressive to observe but strangely    inert. (The Chicago Tribune called the    area the dullest arts district money can buy.) It has few    apartment buildings; one is the new Museum Tower, a 42-story    condo residence that, as of last month, had sold only 16 of its    102 units. The Museum Tower recently     made news when its glass facade began reflecting 103-degree    sunlight directly into the Nasher Sculpture Center next door.    Now the towers developers and the Sculpture Center are    embroiled in a fight over which party should alter its building     essentially, arguing over whether art or residents should    reign supreme in the Dallas Arts District.  
    Thats a defeatist choice to have to make, but the monocultures    created by urban districting make it almost inevitable. At last    weeks 20th annual Congress for the New Urbanism, Hood spoke    about the folly that is Kansas Citys Power    & Light District, an $850 million entertainment    district whose neon signage is as blinding as its eagerness to    be hip. But no one would mistake Power & Light for a    neighborhood created by cool kids. Land costs are higher    downtown, so you have to create something genuinely unique,    says Hood. It cant just be an outdoor mall with slightly    cooler bars.  
    But thats exactly what you get in the Power & Light    District: themed venues catering to neatly delineated tastes,    Epcot-style: the     Makers Mark Bourbon House & Lounge (Southern    Hospitality rises to a new level),     the Dubliner (true Irish ambiance),     Howl at the Moon (a completely unique dueling piano    entertainment concept) and     PBR Big Sky (every cowboy and cowgirls nighttime oasis).    The model suggests that city life is nothing more than a    selection of personal consumption experiences. But at times,    the district feels more like a very enthusiastic ghost town     one with a     $12.8 million budget shortfall.  
    Its not just that the developers are boring people  the    economics of single-owner districts incentivize blandness.    Chain stores and restaurants can afford to pay higher rent, so    they get first dibs. To boost rents even higher, tenants are    sometimes promised that no competition will be allowed nearby.    Starbucks will be willing to pay the higher rent if [the    developer doesn't] let other cafes into the area, says Hood.    And forget about occupying the Power & Light District     youre on private property. For a full list of the rules (no    bicycles, panhandling, profanity on clothing) you can consult    its website.  
    A true [arts or entertainment] district is always sort of    moving around, says Kennedy. Its wherever the bohemians find    cheap real estate. For instance, compare Power & Light or    Victory Park or even the Dallas Arts District with Bostons    Kenmore Square, which developed in the 80s and 90s as a    wildly diverse barrage of punk venues, rock clubs, dive bars,    sports bars and beloved hole-in-the-wall restaurants, all    anchored by Fenway Park, bringing together an unlikely    cross-section of Bostonians into one spontaneous    not-an-entertainment-district for freaks, foodies and sports    nuts alike. And despite being unplanned and unsubsidized (or,    more accurately, because of that), Kenmore eventually    upscaled in exactly the way city leaders hope for.  
    Kenmore Square, by the way, also disproves the conventional    wisdom that the presence of a stadium or arena automatically    dooms neighborhoods. Fenway Park is a beautiful example of a    large entertainment-type building sitting in a neighborhood    thats very vital, says Dean Almy, director of the Dallas Urban    Laboratory, and one of the things that makes it vital is    that it isnt all about Fenway Park.  
Continue reading here:
When libertarianism fails