For what feels like forever now, I’ve been in the process of moving around Cape Town, which of course means enduring the drudgery that is looking for a place to stay. Over the last 4 years, I’ve seen more property than a reliable plumber. From ‘funky’ new developments in Woodstock, to holiday-in-Spain-in-the-70s apartment blocks in Bantry Bay, I’ve seen just about every variation on the the theme you care to think of.

I’ve even been able to compile a small dictionary of estate agent lingo, which you might find handy:

New development: Tiny, but built last week. In fact, still not finished.
Secure: Tiny, but with an intercom.
Harbour views: It’s possible to see the bow of a 400m long container ship. With a telescope.
Exquisite furniture: The current tenant once took an art class and has lime-washed her trestle table.
Beautiful kitchen: Tiny, but with marble counter tops.
It has a gym: Tiny, with half a dumbbell and an exercise bike somewhere.
It has a pool: Tiny, but with a metre-deep cattle-dip somewhere in the building.
Lock up and go: Tiny.
Cosy: Tiny.
Modern: Tiny, but with nice taps.

These are just a few of the phrases I’ve heard, and what they were used to describe was alarming. Evidently the trend is to cram as many units as possible into the available space in an unashamed venture for the greatest profit. And it seems that we happily pay up.

In our quest for modern, urban living, we seem to be willing to forgo the simple luxury of being able to walk around your double bed and not have it squashed into a corner, the luxury of being able to sit in the lounge without having to stare at the stove. Living space is losing out to fancy kitchen mixers and stylish light fittings.

Compare this to our other living space: the car. Every model, of every generation, gets bigger. The car I own (as opposed to the ones I test drive) is a 1992 3-Series Beemer. You know, the classic box shape. That model is now the size of the 1-Series, a car BMW had to create to fill the gap that opened up as the 3-Series swelled and grew.

Staying with BMW, the X3 is now about the size of the old X5, and the X5 is now the size of Mexico. Remember the pokey little Toyota Tazz? That was technically a 6th generation Corrolla. And look at today’s Corrolla in comparison; it’s about the size of the old Mercedes 190E.

Weirdly however, old American cars, the yank tanks that our parents always wax on about, were massive. If anything, American cars have become smaller over the years. It’s terribly easy to blame this on the ever-rising price of ‘gas’, but I don’t think it’s that simple.

I’m still trying to wrap my head around this one, but I think Americans just drive a different sort of car now. The American SUV is a category of car created to dodge emission laws, consumption regulations and other such niceties that govern car manufacture. And 50% of all vehicles sold in America are SUVs.

Back here in the sensible world, however you look at it, European and Japanese cars have grown in every dimension. Certainly, the cars improve as well; not only do they become easier and safer to drive, but the technology and creature comforts advance at an incredible rate.

Why the contradiction then? Is it because we perceive cars as a good, as a product, which must get bigger and better as the years pass? Then why don’t we look at property in the same way? Perhaps it’s simply because property, and indeed land, is in short supply, while in contrast it seems that we could keep spewing out cars for all eternity.

I once met a very old-moneyed lady (not old and moneyed) who insisted that space was the ultimate luxury, and I have to agree with her. Have you ever been to someone’s home, where the garden is so vast that you can’t even see the bottom of it, and thought: “Ah, well this is shite.” And then they ask if you’d like to have a game on the tennis court. Which you can’t even locate.

Or have you ever sat inside a big, luxury German sedan and thought, “This would be so much better if this was a bit smaller.” No. To ensure a feeling of luxury, all you need to do is add space. Not chromed showerheads and heated towel rails, although those are quite nifty. Space to move, space to breathe and space to live is what really makes us feel like we’re privileged, like we’ve invested in something worthwhile.

Obviously both are best. What we all really want is to have marble-topped kitchens and bedrooms the size of basketball courts. However, at the very least, a compromise would be good. And in that sense, car manufacturers get it, and property developers, or at least the types I’ve encountered, just don’t.