Where old-world craftsmanship meets modern sustainability - that's where I live.
Hey there - I'm Xandra, and I've spent nearly two decades convincing buildings to tell better stories.
Look, I didn't start out wanting to be an architect. Growing up in Montreal, I was that kid who'd wander through Old Port for hours, staring at century-old brick facades while my friends hit up the shops. Guess I was a bit weird. But those buildings - they had this presence, y'know? Like they'd seen things and had opinions about 'em.
Fast forward through architecture school at McGill (where I probably drank way too much coffee and slept way too little), and I found myself stuck between two worlds. One side had these gorgeous heritage buildings crumbling from neglect. The other had new developments going up that'd be outdated in 20 years. Neither made sense to me.
That's when it clicked - what if we stopped treating old and new like enemies? What if the materials, techniques, and soul of historic architecture could inform how we build for the future? Not in some cheesy copy-paste way, but genuinely learning from what worked for centuries.
I believe buildings should earn their place. Every structure we put up changes the landscape forever - that's a responsibility I don't take lightly. Whether I'm restoring a 1890s warehouse or designing a new mixed-use space, the question's always the same: will this matter in 50 years?
Sustainability isn't a trend for me - it's common sense wrapped in urgency. Our grandparents built things to last because they had to. Somewhere along the way, we forgot that. I'm just trying to remember.
Graduated from McGill with honors (and massive student debt). First job was with a commercial firm doing cookie-cutter office buildings. Lasted 8 months before I realized I'd lose my mind if I designed one more beige conference room.
Got brought onto a restoration project for a Victorian-era home in Rosedale. The lead architect took a chance on me. Spent 6 months learning traditional joinery, lime mortar techniques, and why modern materials often destroy old buildings instead of saving them. Changed everything.
Started my own practice. Rented a tiny office above a Portuguese bakery on Queen West (the smell was incredible but my waistline suffered). First year was rough - lots of ramen, sleepless nights, and wondering if I'd made a huge mistake. Landed 3 small residential projects that kept the lights on.
Won the bid to convert a 1920s manufacturing warehouse in Liberty Village into mixed residential-commercial space. Preserved the original brick, exposed the timber beams, integrated solar panels into the design. Project got featured in Canadian Architect magazine. Phone started ringing more after that.
Hired my first two associates - couldn't handle all the work solo anymore. Moved to our current spot on Queen West with actual windows and everything. Started specializing more in sustainable urban projects. Toronto's density issues fascinated me, and I wanted to be part of solving them rather than adding to the problem.
Heritage restoration of the old Masonic Temple on Yonge Street won the Ontario Heritage Trust award. Got invited to speak at a few conferences about integrating sustainability with preservation. Started realizing people were actually listening to this stuff.
Covid hit everyone hard. Used the slower period to develop better remote consultation processes and rethink how we approach residential spaces. Turns out people care a lot more about their homes when they're stuck in them 24/7. Projects shifted toward creating multifunctional, adaptable spaces.
Running a team of 8 talented folks. Working on everything from net-zero commercial builds to saving century homes from demolition. Still learning, still making mistakes, still believing that good architecture should serve people and planet, not just portfolios and profits. The work continues.
Every project's a conversation between past and future. I'm not interested in recreating the past or bulldozing it for something 'modern'. I want buildings that respect their context, serve their communities, and won't need replacing in 30 years because we built them cheap and thoughtless.
Climate change isn't coming - it's here. Every design choice matters. Every material decision has consequences. I lose sleep over this stuff, honestly. But I'd rather lose sleep trying to get it right than sleep easy knowing I didn't care enough to try.
Toronto's changing fast. We can guide that change thoughtfully, or we can let it happen to us. I choose the former.
Whether it's a heritage restoration or a new sustainable build, I'd love to hear what you're working on.
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