The Office Market Had It Hard in 2023. Next Year Looks Worse.

Office building owners, hammered by falling demand and high interest rates, struggled in 2023. But they mostly managed to stay afloat.

That is going to be a lot harder to do next year.

Many landlords have been able to extend their loans, often by putting in more capital. But a lot of those extensions are now expiring, and owners are losing hope that occupancy rates will rebound soon.

That means many more office landlords will be compelled to pay off their mortgages, sell their properties at a steep discount or hand their buildings over to their creditors.

“In 2024, it’s game time,” said Scott Rechler, chief executive of RXR Realty, a major owner of office buildings in the New York region. “Owners and lenders are going to have to come to terms as to where values are, where debt needs to be and right-sizing capital structures for these buildings to be successful.”

Office demand shows no sign of returning to pre pandemic levels. While the number of full-time remote employees has dwindled, hybrid workplace policies look here to stay. In the fourth quarter, 62% of U.S. businesses allowed employees to work from home some days of the week, up from 51% in the first quarter, according to Scoop Technologies.

Return-to-office rates also stalled for most of 2023. Kastle Systems, which tracks security-card swipes in 10 major U.S. cities, said that average office attendance is about half of its pre pandemic level. Placer.ai, which tracks mobile phone data, puts it in the 60% to 65% range. But it also said the return rate has topped out.

The office market has shown “some monthly fluctuations but little real change in the overall trajectory,” Placer.ai said in a November report.

The U.S. office vacancy rate stands at a record 13.6%, up from 9.4% at the end of 2019, according to data firm CoStar Group. The firm is forecasting it will rise to 15.7% by the end of 2024 and will peak above 17% by the end of 2026.

That vacancy rate is poised to push higher because nearly half of office leases signed before the pandemic haven’t expired, CoStar said. When they do, many of the businesses will likely take less space than they are currently occupying, whether they are renewing or relocating.

Take the case of Chicago law firm Neal Gerber Eisenberg, which signed one of the city’s largest 2023 office leases earlier this fall. The firm, which has grown steadily throughout the pandemic, adopted a policy that requires employees to work from the office at least eight days a month. Neal Gerber leased 90,000 square feet at its new location, down from the 113,000 square feet it will be giving up.

Beyond the longer-term decline in demand, office landlords are still contending with high interest rates. Landlords that have to refinance debt borrowed when rates were at historic lows will face much higher borrowing costs as high vacancy is putting rents and incomes under pressure.

In recent weeks, inflation has been declining and the Federal Reserve is likely to ease interest rates in 2024. That will soften the blow. But landlords still face a financial squeeze, analysts say.

“If you have a mortgage that’s expiring at 3% or 4%, there’s no way you’re refinancing at 3% or 4%,” said Steve Sakwa, an analyst with Evercore ISI. Even though rates have come down, he added, property owners are still looking at rates that could be double their expiring rates to refinance.

Not all the signals are bleak for the office market in 2024. Demand is still strong for the highest quality and best-located space in many markets from tenants willing to pay high rents to encourage employees to return to offices.

Developers have retreated from new construction in the sector, so there’s little competition from new supply. The 30 million square feet in office construction starts in 2023 was the lowest amount since 2010, according to CoStar.

Cities such as San Francisco, New York and Boston are lowering costs and streamlining the process for converting obsolete office buildings into apartments. While this isn’t expected to result in a big decline in vacancy, the actions might bring more activity to business districts, giving a psychological boost to downtown landlords and businesses.

But the steadily rising number of owners who are defaulting on their mortgages because of falling rent rolls looms over the market. The delinquency rate of bank loans and loans converted into commercial mortgage-backed securities currently is over 6% compared with below 1% before the pandemic hit, according to data firm Trepp.

High delinquencies combined with the dismal office outlook already have convinced some owners to hand properties back to lenders or sell for sharply discounted prices.

In Stamford, Conn., the owner of One Stamford Forum, a 500,000-square-foot building whose tenants include troubled Purdue Pharma, this fall gave the building back to its creditors, according to Trepp. In San Francisco, buyers have purchased office buildings like 60 Spear Street and 350 California Street for fractions of what they were worth before the pandemic.

Trepp is projecting that the office delinquency rate could be over 8% by the second half of next year. As more landlords default, the new owners that replace them—buying in at greatly reduced prices—will likely put more pressure on the market because they’ll be able to charge lower rents and still make a profit.

“What could be catastrophic is if you start seeing corporate profit pressures leading to continued or accelerated pace of office downsizing,” said Stephen Buschbom, Trepp’s research director.

I wish to protest the current ugliness. I see it as a continuing trend, “the uglification of everything.” It is coming out of our culture with picked-up speed, and from many media silos, and I don’t like it.

You remember the 1999 movie “The Talented Mr. Ripley,” from the Patricia Highsmith novel. It was fabulous—mysteries, murders, a sociopath scheming his way among high-class expats on the Italian Riviera. The laid-back glamour of Jude Law, the Grace Kelly-ness of Gwyneth Paltrow, who looks like a Vogue magazine cover decided to take a stroll through the streets of 1950s Venice, the truly brilliant acting of Matt Damon, who is so well-liked by audiences I’m not sure we notice anymore what a great actor he is. The director, Anthony Minghella, deliberately showed you pretty shiny things while taking you on a journey to a heart of darkness.

There’s a new version, a streaming series from Netflix, called “Ripley.” I turned to it eagerly and watched with puzzlement. It is unrelievedly ugly. Grimy, gloomy, grim. Tom Ripley is now charmless, a pale and watchful slug slithering through ancient rooms. He isn’t bright, eager, endearing, only predatory. No one would want to know him! Which makes the story make no sense. Again, Ripley is a sociopath, but few could tell because he seemed so sweet and easy. In the original movie, Philip Seymour Hoffman has an unforgettable turn as a jazz-loving, prep-schooled, in-crowd snob. In this version that character is mirthless, genderless, hidden. No one would want to know him either. Marge, the Paltrow role in the movie, is ponderous and plain, like a lost 1970s hippie, which undercuts a small part of the tragedy: Why is the lovely woman so in love with a careless idler who loves no one?

The ugliness seemed a deliberate artistic decision, as did the air of constant menace, as if we all know life is never nice.

I go to the No. 1 program on Netflix this week, “Baby Reindeer.” People speak highly of it. It’s about a stalker and is based on a true story, but she’s stalking a comic so this might be fun. Oh dear, no. It is again unrelievedly bleak. Life is low, plain and homely. No one is ever nice or kind; all human conversation is opaque and halting; work colleagues are cruel and loud. Everyone is emotionally incapable and dumb. No one laughs except for the morbidly obese stalker, who cackles madly. The only attractive person is the transgender girlfriend, who has a pretty smile and smiles a lot, but cries a lot too and is vengeful.

Good drama always makes you think. I thought: Do I want to continue living?

I go to the Daily Mail website, once my guilty pleasure. High jinks of the rich and famous, randy royals, fast cars and movie stars, models and rock stars caught in the drug bust. It was great! But it seems to have taken a turn and is more about crime, grime, human sadness and degradation—child abuse, mothers drowning their babies, “Man murders family, self.” It is less a portal into life’s mindless, undeserved beauty, than a testimony to its horrors.

I go to the new “Cabaret.” Who doesn’t love “Cabaret”? It is dark, witty, painful, glamorous. The music and lyrics have stood the test of time. The story’s backdrop: The soft decadence of Weimar is being replaced by the hard decadence of Nazism.

It is Kander and Ebb’s masterpiece, revived again and again. And this revival is hideous. It is ugly, bizarre, inartistic, fundamentally stupid. Also obscene but in a purposeless way, without meaning.

I had the distinct feeling the producers take their audience to be distracted dopamine addicts with fractured attention spans and no ability to follow a story. They also seemed to have no faith in the story itself, so they went with endless pyrotechnics. This is “Cabaret” for the empty-headed. Everyone screams. The songs are slowed, because you might need a moment to take it in. Almost everyone on stage is weirdly hunched, like a gargoyle, everyone overacts, and all of it is without art.

On the way in, staffers put stickers on the cameras of your phone, “to protect our intellectual property,” as one said.

It isn’t an easy job to make the widely admired Eddie Redmayne unappealing, but by God they did it. As he’s a producer I guess he did it, too. He takes the stage as the Emcee in a purple leather skirt with a small green cone on his head and appears further on as a clown with a machine gun and a weird goth devil. It is all so childish, so plonkingly empty.

Here is something sad about modern artists: They are held back by a lack of limits.

Bob Fosse, the director of the classic 1972 movie version, got to push against society’s limits and Broadway’s and Hollywood’s prohibitions. He pushed hard against what was pushing him, which caused friction; in the heat of that came art. Directors and writers now have nothing to push against because there are no rules or cultural prohibitions, so there’s no friction, everything is left cold, and the art turns in on itself and becomes merely weird.

Fosse famously loved women. No one loves women in this show. When we meet Sally Bowles, in the kind of dress a little girl might put on a doll, with heavy leather boots and harsh, garish makeup, the character doesn’t flirt, doesn’t seduce or charm. She barks and screams, angrily.

Really it is harrowing. At one point Mr. Redmayne dances with a toilet plunger, and a loaf of Italian bread is inserted and removed from his anal cavity. I mentioned this to my friend, who asked if I saw the dancer in the corner masturbating with a copy of what appeared to be “Mein Kampf.”

That’s what I call intellectual property!

In previous iterations the Kit Kat Club was a hypocrisy-free zone, a place of no boundaries, until the bad guys came and it wasn’t. I’m sure the director and producers met in the planning stage and used words like “breakthrough” and “a ‘Cabaret’ for today,” and “we don’t hide the coming cruelty.” But they do hide it by making everything, beginning to end, lifeless and grotesque. No innocence is traduced because no innocence exists.

How could a show be so frantic and outlandish and still be so tedious? It’s almost an achievement.

And for all that there is something smug about it, as if they’re looking down from some great, unearned height.

I left thinking, as I often do now on seeing something made ugly: This is what purgatory is going to be like. And then, no, this is what hell is going to be like—the cackling stalker, the pale sociopath, Eddie Redmayne dancing with a plunger.

Why does it all bother me?

Because even though it isn’t new, uglification is rising and spreading as an artistic attitude, and it can’t be good for us. Because it speaks of self-hatred, and a society that hates itself, and hates life, won’t last. Because it gives those who are young nothing to love and feel soft about. Because we need beauty to keep our morale up.

Because life isn’t merde, in spite of what our entertainment geniuses say.

The Office Market Had It Hard in 2023. Next Year Looks Worse.

Office building owners are losing hope that occupancy rates will rebound soon

Artistic culture has taken a repulsive turn. It speaks of a society that hates itself, and hates life.