Protect what makes Pasadena special before we lose it.
For years, I’ve had this nagging feeling that Pasadena is becoming more like Santa Monica—or, more broadly, like the Westside. Pasadena has always been different from Santa Monica in many ways—warmer climate, slower pace, historical character, and old-school charm. Frankly, Pasadena has been much easier to get around too. You would never confuse one city for the other. Yet over time, I’ve started to notice something the two cities increasingly share: policy choices that are chipping away at the ease and success that have long made Pasadena such a good place to live.
The first policy that really caught my attention was the heavy emphasis on housing around transit. It seemed that Pasadena prioritized the number of units over the quality of what was being built—less character, less open space, trees in concrete pots, and buildings that could easily be mistaken for ones in Santa Monica, Culver City, or anywhere else. And this is in a city that takes pride in its architecture.
Along with the new housing comes reduced parking. New projects are being planned with fewer spaces, based on the idea that residents will drive less if they live near transit and use the metro or bikes. For example, the proposed project at 2000 E. Colorado Boulevard includes 144 apartments but only 64 parking spaces. To state the obvious, many residents still need a car to function. Pasadena residents drive across town for school, soccer, groceries, and doctor visits. People aren’t organizing their lives around a rail line or bike lane—they base their routines on where their kids, jobs, doctors, and errands are.
As part of the push to get people out of their cars, Pasadena has added bike lanes throughout the city, including along Union Street and other parts of the city. I enjoy riding a bike when it makes sense—but not when I’m in a hurry, when the route feels unsafe, when the weather isn’t great, or when I have kids or groceries to carry. People decide how to get around based on what they need to do that day, not on a city goal.
Then there’s homelessness. It was one of the first issues that drew me to City Hall. It has become much more visible, especially around businesses and parks. And more recently, it became very personal when I saw people living on the sidewalk and in the park right next to my church and its school. I believe in outreach and services, but our schools still need to operate without worrying about what’s happening outside the school gates; parents want to know their kids are safe, sidewalks should be accessible, and our parks should be places families can enjoy. We need laws and enforcement to keep our city clean, safe, and functioning.
To be fair, Sacramento is driving many of these changes, especially around housing, transportation, and parking. But I worry that Pasadena isn’t always pushing back. In many cases, the City and its council seem to be moving in the same direction. State mandates shouldn’t end the conversation. If anything, they make it even more important for Pasadena to review the local impacts and decide where common sense can still win the day.
The best analogy I can share for how I see this is the game of Jenga. Pull out one block, and it stays upright. Then another. Each move seems manageable alone. But eventually, the whole structure begins to wobble when too many stable blocks are removed.
That’s what I’ve worried about in Pasadena for years—how all these newer policies will unfold once they are layered together. Will the city remain stable, or will it start to collapse like a Jenga tower?
And Santa Monica is definitely wobbling.
The Los Angeles Times recently asked a simple question: What happened to Santa Monica? RAND research shows some of Santa Monica’s economic struggles began before COVID. That means we can’t blame everything on the pandemic—something was already going wrong.
As I read about Santa Monica, I kept thinking of Pasadena. The details differ, but the pattern and policies feel familiar.
When you see how some of these policy goals are actually implemented, the trade-offs become clear. Road diets or added bus lanes can remove car lanes, turn lanes, and parking. Reduced parking requirements can make driving less convenient, with the hope that more people will switch to other climate-friendly modes. More housing can mean higher density, less open space, and fewer mountain views—changing an area’s feel in ways that may never have been intended. And a service-first approach to homelessness can still leave parks, sidewalks, and businesses dealing with trash and safety concerns, sometimes without knowing whether those who are unhoused will accept the help being offered.
What disturbs me is what these policies seem to assume about residents—that they will drive less, need less parking, accept denser living, use transit more, and live with whatever happens in parks, next to our schools, and on our streets. Businesses are expected to adjust too.
But if Santa Monica’s struggling downtown and retail sector are any indication, those adjustments aren’t happening smoothly. More than 11% of Santa Monica’s retail space is vacant, while Pasadena’s recent Economic Development Strategy put its citywide retail vacancy rate at about 5.5%. Pasadena is not there yet—and that is exactly why this is the time to pay attention.
Affordability adds another layer. Pasadena’s sales tax is now 11%, with state, county, and local taxes all contributing to that total. Pasadena households and businesses are also dealing with higher utility costs. When living, shopping, and doing business become more expensive and complicated, residents and businesses can start to feel like the city is working against them rather than for them.
This is where cities can get themselves into trouble. We become so fixated on whether policies sound good that we forget to ask what they’re actually doing to the city and its residents when they are layered together. Layer enough of them together, and the base may not be as strong as we think.
Santa Monica is now adding police downtown, making parking easier, supporting businesses, and investing in revitalizing the Promenade. But I still don’t hear enough about whether past policy decisions contributed to the city’s current issues.
We may not have all the answers yet, but Pasadena should want to know before making many of the same moves.
What worries me most is that, little by little, we might start losing what makes Pasadena special—the mountain views, trees, clean parks, neighborhoods with character, and the ease of living, shopping, and getting around with our kids.
We don’t want to become Los Angeles. And sometimes, I fear that this is exactly where we are headed.
Before Pasadena makes its next move, we should pause and assess how these changes work together—and whether the tower remains steady.
Pasadena has the advantage of observing this elsewhere first. We should make good use of that.
Policies should adapt to people and their lifestyles, not just lofty ideals or the latest “zero” campaign. We should be careful not to expect residents to change their lives to fit policies, but to shape policies to support a better life for residents and businesses.
Santa Monica learned some of these lessons the hard way. Pasadena doesn’t have to.
