Guest Opinion | Erika Foy: Are We Redefining Success in Pasadena?

I am concerned that we are gradually redefining success.

For generations, Pasadena measured success not only by growth, but by beauty, craftsmanship, neighborhood character, and a commitment to preserving what made the city unique.

Today, housing production seems to dominate so many City Council discussions about Pasadena’s future. Yet I worry that we are becoming so focused on what can be built that we are spending less time asking what kind of city we are creating.

That concern was on my mind during a recent trip to Croatia.

Like so many visitors before me, I was captivated by Dubrovnik, Kor?ula, Hvar, and the historic towns that line the Adriatic coast. People are drawn to these places not because they are efficient or practical, but because they feel alive with history. Their architecture, public spaces, waterfronts, and historic character create a sense of place that is memorable and enduring.

These towns have survived wars, occupations, political upheaval, and centuries of change. Yet people continue to visit because they possess something increasingly rare: a unique identity.

Not every building I encountered left the same impression.

One evening I stayed in a hotel built during the communist era, and the contrast could not have been more striking. It was functional. It served its purpose. But it lacked the warmth, beauty, and sense of place that made the historic towns so memorable.

Croatia’s communist period left behind many buildings that were designed primarily for utility and efficiency. Standing there after spending days in Dubrovnik, Kor?ula, and Hvar, I could feel the difference between a building that simply serves a purpose and a place that stays with you.

Had more of that historic fabric been replaced by buildings designed only for function, much of what makes those places unforgettable might have been lost.

While those impressions were still fresh in my mind, I saw Spencer Pratt’s comments about modern architecture spreading across social media.

Having just spent time in places celebrated around the world for their beauty and character, I immediately understood what he was trying to say.

His point was not simply about architecture. It was about beauty, identity, and whether we still expect the places we build to inspire us.

People can debate his politics or his choice of words. But he touched on a question that many people have been quietly asking for years.

Why do so many new buildings look interchangeable?

Why do so many cities seem to be losing their unique identity?

Why does it sometimes feel as though beauty is no longer considered essential?

Whether one agrees with Spencer Pratt or not, he raised a question worth asking:

Shouldn’t we expect more from the places we build?

That question feels especially important in Pasadena.

Pasadena has long been admired because it is not ordinary. People do not fall in love with Pasadena because it looks like every other city. They love Pasadena because it doesn’t.

Our tree-lined streets, historic neighborhoods, civic buildings, gardens, and architectural heritage did not happen by accident. They exist because residents, planners, commissioners, architects, preservationists, and elected officials believed beauty mattered. They cared about design. They cared about how buildings related to their surroundings. Most importantly, they cared enough to think beyond their own time.

The question is not whether Pasadena values beauty.

It does.

The question is whether Pasadena will continue to have the ability to require it.

For decades, Pasadena understood that growth was not only about adding buildings. It was also about design, scale, preservation, and how new development fit into the city around it. Those conversations were often lengthy and sometimes contentious, but they reflected a community shaping its own future.

Today, many of those local decisions are increasingly constrained by state mandates that prioritize housing production and density. Whether one agrees with those policies or not, the result is that communities often have fewer tools available to ensure that new development reflects the character and identity of the places where it is built.

As someone who has lived in Pasadena for nearly three decades, helped preserve a historic block in Madison Heights, served on the board of a local school, and raised a family here, I have spent years attending City Council and commission meetings and listening to debates about the future of our city.

What concerns me is not growth itself.

Cities evolve. New housing will be built. Change is inevitable.

The risk is not that Pasadena will change. The risk is that, in changing too carelessly, it could become less memorable.

What concerns me is the growing imbalance in the conversation.

Housing matters.

But so do beauty, preservation, and neighborhood character.

Preservation, beauty, neighborhood character, and architectural quality increasingly seem overshadowed by discussions about housing production. Too often, the debate focuses on how many units can be built rather than whether the buildings themselves will contribute to Pasadena’s identity and long-term character.

I understand the need for housing. But housing alone is not what makes a city special.

People do not travel across the world to experience places that are merely functional. They are drawn to places with beauty, character, and identity.

Pasadena is one of those places.

Pasadena’s character was not created overnight. It is the product of generations of decisions, large and small, made by people who believed that growth and beauty could exist together.

As I think back on Croatia, I do not remember the hotel. I remember the places that carried their history and still felt deeply alive.

That, to me, is the measure of success that matters most.

As we plan for Pasadena’s future, I hope we do not redefine success so narrowly that we lose sight of the qualities that made Pasadena special in the first place.

The places we cherish were built with care.

Pasadena deserves nothing less.

Erika Foy, Pasadena resident