A

nn 
Arbor’s 
tallest 
building is the aptly 
named 
Tower 
Plaza 
Condominium. 
Standing 
at around 300 feet tall, the 
building 
was 
controversial 
from its first proposal. City 
Council moved rapidly to enact 
an 18-story height limit, but 
Tower Plaza came in right under 
the wire before that ordinance 
change was passed. The first 
time Ann Arbor opposed a 
tower for being “too tall” was 
in 1929. The original proposal 
for 
the 
beautiful 
Spanish 
Renaissance-style Forest Plaza, 
at 715 South Forest Avenue, 
was nine stories tall, but the 
city bargained them down to 
five stories. The controversies 
haven’t stopped since. Ann 
Arbor’s 
latest 
downtown 
building controversy was 413 
East Huron, known as Foundry 
Lofts. Dubbed “overpowering” 
and “imposing” by some, the 
plan nearly failed to pass 
the council. Now, 512 Ann 
Arbor residents call it their 
downtown home. 
Ann 
Arbor’s 
“high-rises” 
have made our city a better 
place to live. They’ve added 
new housing supply, supported 
sustainable growth and made 
our city the place it is today. 
Ann 
Arbor’s 
21st 
century 
high-rises can be attributed 
to a 2009 zoning ordinance 
change. When the special tax 
rules that govern downtown 
were 
renewed, 
residents 
expressed their desire for a 
more vibrant downtown. The 
resulting plan, named Ann 
Arbor Discovering Downtown, 

created our downtown zoning 
codes. A2D2 gave developers 
a 
“premium” 
option 
for 
their developments — more 
residential 
space 
downtown 
was a major ask during public 
input. In exchange for building 
residential 
floor 
space, 
developers received the rights 
for more height and density. 
This 
“residential 
premium” 
was used to construct more 
than a dozen buildings in the 
new downtown zoning district. 
In 2019, elected officials 
altered 
downtown 
zoning. 

Instead of offering the right to 
more floor space in exchange 
for residential space, the city 
began asking developers to 
construct subsidized housing. 
This dealt a major blow to 
development in the city core. 
This premium process is 
called 
inclusionary 
zoning. 
Inclusionary zoning seems to 
be a free solution to affordable 
housing woes, and is meant 
as a response to exclusionary 
zoning, which is the design of 
zoning laws to restrict access 
to a neighborhood. The Biden 

administration 
has 
taken 
strides to combat this pervasive 
phenomenon. 
Unfortunately, 
as we can see in Ann Arbor, 
inclusionary 
zoning 
is 
not 
really working as advertised.
In 
an 
interview 
with 
The Michigan Daily, Emily 
Hamilton, 
Senior 
Research 
Fellow and Director of the 
Urbanity 
Project 
at 
the 
Mercatus Center, at George 
Mason 
University, 
which 
researches 
how 
markets 
can 
solve 
social 
problems, 
explained 
that, 
because 

these programs are typically 
designed with a density bonus 
to offset the cost of subsidizing 
some of the units, “inclusionary 
zoning 
always 
depends 
on 
exclusionary zoning existing … 
to work.”
Hamilton 
said 
that, 
in 
her research of inclusionary 
zoning 
programs 
in 
the 
Baltimore-Washington region, 
very few have produced any 
affordable units. She said that 
Ann Arbor’s program is an 
optional program, in contrast 
to a mandatory program, which 

would not come with any 
bonuses. 
“Out 
of 
eleven 
optional 
programs, 
only 
two 
have 
provided any units,” Hamilton 
said. 
“And 
those 
two 
programs are in otherwise 
very exclusionary, expensive, 
supply-constrained localities.” 
Some 
research 
on 
inclusionary 
zoning 
has 
even shown that the tool can 
backfire. 
Hamilton 
confirmed 
that 
reality, 
describing 
that 
in 
her research of mandatory 
inclusionary zoning programs 
“actually increased the median 
house price among localities 
that adopted (those) programs 
relative to what they could 
have expected otherwise.” 
A slew of recent planned 
unit developments, known as 
PUDs, are a major sign that 
poorly 
designed 
regulations 
are the issue here, not just 
macroeconomic 
factors. 
A 
PUD allows a developer to 
receive 
custom 
zoning 
in 
exchange for public benefits. 
Two projects, at 721 South 
Forest Avenue and 732 Packard 
Street, are of a similar mass 
and scale as the dozen recent 
towers 
downtown, 
but 
are 
pursuing PUDs for relief, even 
offering money for Ann Arbor’s 
affordable housing fund. Ann 
Arbor’s planning commission is 
aware of the system’s failings, 
recently requesting consultants 
to review the ordinances. The 
report confirmed that, just 
like developers, city staff and 
volunteer commissioners alike 
all believe the system to be 
ineffective — and the numbers 
are 
there 
to 
support 
this 
conclusion.

O

n 
more 
than 
one 
occasion, I have been 
shocked to find that two 
people who I never expected to 
know one another actually did. 
I discovered that my friend from 
my dorm has known my friend 
from math class since orientation. 
A 
boy 
in 
my 
professional 
fraternity apparently sails with 
someone who lives right down 
the hall from me. A kid I went to 
high school with ended up being 
good friends with my next-door 
neighbor. Time and time again, 
I was shown how interlinked our 
campus community really is and 
how often we seem to overlook 
our connections. 
With 
more 
than 
30,000 
undergraduates at the University 
of Michigan, it’s easy to feel 
like a small fish in a big pond. 
There are only so many friends 

you can make, organizations 
you can join or classes you can 
enroll in — naturally you’re not 
going to know everyone. But just 
because you don’t know every 
student passing you in the Diag 
or the names of everyone in 
your classes doesn’t mean that 
you are somehow disconnected 
or detached from the people 
around you. We are all more 
interconnected than we presume, 
something 
I 
feel 
is 
better 
recognized when considering the 
concept of degrees of separation. 
I have long been fascinated 
by the six degrees of separation: 
The theory that any two people 
in the world can be connected 
through no more than six social 
connections. 
The 
idea 
that 
someone living around the globe 
and I are connected by less than 
six people is not only mind-
blowing, but also demonstrates 
that the world is not as divided as 
some like to believe. This concept 
is only amplified in a campus 

environment. A recent study 
from Cornell University which 
researched course enrollments 
showed that any two students can 
be connected in three steps or 
less. This result doesn’t even take 
into account the connections that 
can be found through friends, 
extracurricular activities, living 
situations and parties.
To transfer this idea onto our 
own school, the University of 
Michigan has what I’d like to 
call “Michigan’s Two Degrees 
of Separation.” What I mean 
by this is that any two people 
at the University of Michigan 
are likely two or fewer social 
connections away from each 
other without even realizing it. 
Now, of course, this notion might 
seem far-fetched, but the harder 
you think the more it starts to 
make sense. The average U-M 
student takes about 15 credit 
hours per semester, which comes 
out to about four or five courses. 
That means that each of us is 

taking classes with hundreds 
of other students each week — 
students who also take classes 
with hundreds of other people. 
To add on to that, we have over 
1,600 student-run organizations 
made up of students from all 
different years and backgrounds 
coming into contact with one 
another. Add all of that together 
with friend groups, dorm living 
and any of the other spontaneous 
ways 
college 
students 
meet 
on campus, and the result is a 
complex web of social interaction 
that connects the University of 
Michigan together. 
To 
fully 
grasp 
how 
interconnected our community 
is we need to dig deeper than 
just the way the University is 
structured. We need to think 
critically about what unites all of 
us as U-M students. Sure, we all 
love football games and are eager 
to take a selfie with Santa Ono, 
but we, as Michigan Wolverines, 
have a distinct spirit that joins us 

together beyond the fact that we 
think it is great to be a Michigan 
Wolverine. Regardless of our 
backgrounds, in-state or out-
of-state, STEM or humanities 
students, Greek life-enjoyers or 
Greek life-avoiders, what unites 
us and connects us is that desire 
we all have to be a part of this 
community, 
no 
matter 
what 
shape that may take. 
That is what makes Michigan’s 
two degrees of separation what it 
is. Of course we can attribute our 
connectedness to the classes we 
take and the organizations we 
participate in, but it is ultimately 
our own attempts to participate 
in our college community that 
breathes life into this web of 
connection. 
Whatever 
your 
background 
or 
role 
at 
the 
University of Michigan, who 
your friends are or what you are 
trying to do here, all of us are 
compelled to be here and to grow 
here in some way. That is what 
makes us interconnected. 

But why just stop at the 
University of Michigan? Any 
college 
whose 
students 
are 
passionate 
about 
cultivating 
an interconnected community 
should experience the degrees 
of 
separation 
phenomenon. 
Academic spaces, particularly 
universities, 
provide 

unparalleled 
opportunities 
for growth and discovery, and 
it is truly up to the students 
themselves 
to 
decide 
how 
connected they can be. 
The bottom line is that even 
when you might feel like you’re 
totally separated or disconnected 
from the people around you, I 
promise that you are undoubtedly 
more connected to them than 
you realize. That person sitting 
next to you in lecture or the guy 
in front of you in the line for Joe’s 
Pizza might seem distant, but I 
promise if you take the time to 
think hard enough about it you’ll 
see how connected we all truly 
are.

T

he Apple AirPods Max 
are ugly. Or, at least that’s 
what my last-semester self 
thought.
As of two weeks ago, though, 
I own a pair of AirPods Max, 
and I must say, I’ve been using 
them quite a lot. They have been 
nothing short of excellent. The 
noise-canceling 
feature 
quite 
literally tunes you out from 
the raucous sounds that may 
surround you when trying to 
get work done in popular study 
spots across campus, and they’re 
surprisingly comfortable as well. 
If you’re debating whether to 
get a pair for yourself, this is me 
expressing my fervent support of 
the purchase.
However, despite my positive 
experience with the AirPods Max, 
it is undeniable that there are 
several other brands that produce 
high-quality 
noise-canceling 
headphones as well. From the 
Sony WH-1000XM5 to the Bose 
QuietComfort 45, headphones at 
half the price of the AirPods Max 
can be found on the market.
To be completely honest, I was 
simply looking for a solid pair of 

noise-canceling headphones that 
would get the job done. But as I 
browsed the choices available at 
my nearest Best Buy, I couldn’t 
help but be drawn to the AirPods 
Max. Why was I so allured by 
them, knowing that they were 
the most expensive option? Why 
did I insist that they looked 
better on me than any of the 
other pairs of headphones at the 
store when, let’s be honest, no 
pair of headphones, regardless 
of the brand, is ever going to 
be 
the 
cutest 
accessory 
for 
embellishing an outfit? It turns 
out that the reason we feel drawn 
to purchase brand-name products 
is 
inherently 
psychological, 
and while investing in certain 
designer products is, at times, 
worth the money because of 
their durability, others just aren’t 
worth paying such high prices.
Designer brands have expertly 
championed the art of hooking 
their 
customers’ 
attention 
through their unique “statement” 
brand names. These brands know 
that, in order to leave their mark, 
they must label themselves with 
a simple yet eye-catching title 
and aesthetic. The title is thus 
paired with quality products that 
adhere to a certain specialty and 
aesthetic. Take the expensive, 

albeit popular, sneaker brand, 
Golden Goose. The price for 
Golden Goose sneakers ranges 
from around $350 to over $2,000. 
Some would deem this price range 
ridiculous, given that the brand’s 
shoes have a distressed and used 
look, so they barely look worth 
the expensive price tag they bear.
Some have gone as far as to 
claim that they fall under the 
controversial 
“poverty 
chic” 
trend, 
which 
romanticizes 
the idea of resorting to what 
is 
considered 
low-class 
for 
fashion inspiration. As Kimberly 
Chrisman-Campbell 
presents 
in her 2017 essay for Politico 
Magazine, times of increasing 
income inequality result in a 
twisted high society desire to 
cosplay poverty.
Curiously, it is precisely the 
bizarre, distressed look of Golden 
Goose sneakers that the brand 
aims to market and that customers, 
as a result, covet. In an interview 
with ELLE Magazine, Golden 
Goose 
CEO 
Silvio 
Campara 
explained that “what (they’ve) 
tried to do, and tried to say (with 
the brand), is that everyone may 
have their own reason for why 
the shoes are the way they are. 
They are meant to be part of life, 
and life is not glossy.” The brand 

advertises itself as a reflection 
of life’s tough realities, which, 
according to Campara, makes the 
brand “relatable” because it isn’t 
“polished and perfect.” Basically, 
instead of having to break your 
shoes in until they fit your exact 
foot size like every other person, 
Golden Goose does it for you, and 
that is the advertised reason why 
they are worth investing in. 
The phenomenon described 
above is rightfully known as 
emotional branding. In attempts 
to 
foster 
consumer 
loyalty, 
brands follow a series of steps 
that help them develop a positive 
reputation as a company. As 
explained in a 2019 study by Youn-
Kyung Kim and Pauline Sullivan, 
brands explore market trends that 
have contributed to consumer 
happiness in the past, and then 
propose 
distinct 
emotional 
branding strategies that respond 
to the trends evaluated. Emotional 
branding is eventually coupled 
with emotional marketing, which 
aims to target human emotions 
in order to catch customers’ 
attention. In the end, this is 
what makes designer products 
appealing to consumers because 
we will ultimately buy products 
that we believe we can trust. 
This does not eliminate the fact 

that designer products are high 
quality. My mom and grandma 
are constantly expressing their 
utmost elation at the fact that, 
someday, I’ll be able to inherit 
their 
favorite 
Louis 
Vuitton 
handbag and their beloved David 
Yurman necklace because the 
quality of these products is just 
that good. But even if the quality 
of these products is excellent, 
buying 
goods 
produced 
by 
designer 
brands 
is 
certainly 
an investment. And while the 
Louis Vuitton purse that will 
last you a lifetime is probably 
worth investing in if you have 
the economic resources to do so, 
perhaps a bottle of expensive Dior 
perfume isn’t as worth it, given 
that it runs out in due time. 
Take the example of winter 
parkas. Insulated winter jackets 
produced by brands such as 
Canada Goose and The North 
Face are lauded for their high-
quality material and fit, which 
makes them more durable than 
those generally sold at retail 
stores. But the winter parka you 
decide to purchase really depends 
on how you plan to use it, as 
Jordan Wand, vice president of 
production and marketing for 
Outdoor Research, explains in an 
interview with ABC News.

However, the societal need to 
keep up has convinced us that, 
in order to fit in, we must rep 
the Canada Goose parka priced 
at over $1,000, even if we will 
really only use it for the duration 
of our four years of college. This 
phenomenon is especially true if 
you’re originally from a warm-
temperature region that you plan 
to return to after college, which 
is, in fact, my exact situation. It is 
this type of societal and emotional 
manipulation that often leads us 
to invest in designer products 
without considering what we will 
use them for in the long run. 
In the end, your money is 
your money, and you can use it 
to purchase whatever you want 
to purchase. But before spending 
large sums of your paycheck on 
a bottle of Dior perfume that 
will inevitably run out or on a 
pair of Gucci jeans that you may 
eventually grow out of, think 
about the long-lasting effects of 
your purchase, whether these 
implicate outgrowing the product 
you purchased or contributing to 
a conflicting societal expectation 
that comes with investing in 
designer goods. If, by then, you’re 
still drawn to a designer product, 
opt for the durable Louis Vuitton 
handbag instead.

Opinion
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
9 — Wednesday, March 22, 2023 

GRACIELA BATLLE CESTERO
Opinion Columnist

Design by Leah Hoogterp 

“Branding” is the name of the game

Ann Arbor needs skyscrapers

Michigan’s two degrees of separation: 
We are more connected than you realize

MAX FELDMAN
Opinion Columnist

ABDULRAHMAN ATEYA
Opinion Columnist

 Read more at MichiganDaily.com