My Unexpected Journey with Floor to Area Ratio (FAR): A Homeowner’s Tale of Frustration and Discovery

A few months ago, I found myself diving headfirst into a concept I’d never given much thought to: Floor to Area Ratio (FAR). It wasn’t a personal project that sparked this journey, but rather a wave of desperate homeowners reaching out to me, their voices thick with frustration. They were hitting a wall—one they couldn’t build past. Families needing an extra bedroom for a new baby, a larger kitchen to host gatherings, or even a home office to adapt to remote work were being told “no” by their local regulations. The culprit? FAR. As I dug into their stories, I realized this wasn’t just a technicality—it was a game-changer reshaping how we think about our homes.

What Is FAR, Anyway?

At its core, Floor to Area Ratio is a simple formula: it dictates the maximum square footage of your house based on the size of your lot. Let’s break it down. If you’ve got a 10,000-square-foot lot and your local FAR is set at 0.5, you’re limited to a 5,000-square-foot home—total, including all floors. A 0.2 FAR? That drops you to just 2,000 square feet. It’s a hard cap, no exceptions, no wiggle room. I was stunned when I saw how this played out in real life. One homeowner I spoke to had a growing family of six, cramped in a modest house, but FAR stopped them from adding even a small extension. Their lot size said “no” louder than their needs screamed “yes.”

How I Got Pulled Into This

I’m no stranger to home improvement challenges—years of working with homeowners have taught me to expect hurdles like permits or budgets. But FAR was different. It started with a call from a couple in my township. They’d saved for years to expand their outdated kitchen, only to be told their plan exceeded the FAR limit by a few hundred square feet. Then came an email from a single mom needing a second bathroom for her kids—same story. Soon, I was fielding messages weekly, each one echoing the same frustration: “We can’t make our house work for us.” That’s when I knew I had to understand this beast myself.

FAR’s Local Roots and the IBC Gap

Here’s where it gets interesting. FAR isn’t some universal rule baked into the International Building Code (IBC)—the standard that governs most construction practices globally. The IBC does include a section called "General Building Heights and Areas," which lays out limits on things like how tall a building can be, how many people it can hold, and how it fits into land use categories based on size and features. But FAR? It’s conspicuously absent. Instead, it’s a local invention, and in my experience, proper townships—those well-organized, often suburban jurisdictions—have been the first to enforce it. In my area, townships like mine rolled out FAR restrictions years ago, long before it hit the radar of broader building codes.

Why? They’ll tell you it’s about greenspace and aesthetics. A lower FAR means more of your lot stays open—think lawns, gardens, or trees—rather than being swallowed by concrete and shingles. It’s also about keeping neighborhoods uniform, preventing McMansions from dwarfing historic bungalows. I can see the appeal: driving through my township, the tree-lined streets and balanced homes do feel cohesive. But there’s a cost, and it’s the homeowners who pay it.

The Tradeoff: Greenspace vs. Freedom

Take the family I mentioned earlier, the one with six kids. Their lot was decent-sized, but the FAR capped their home at a footprint that couldn’t handle their reality. They weren’t trying to build a monstrosity—just a practical addition. Yet the township’s vision of “greenspace preservation” trumped their need to live comfortably. Another homeowner, a retiree, wanted to downsize by splitting his house into a duplex for himself and his daughter’s family. FAR said no, leaving half his lot empty while his family scrambled for housing elsewhere.

This push for greenspace and neighborhood character isn’t baseless. I’ve walked lots where overbuilding turned yards into asphalt jungles—no one wants that. But enforcing FAR so strictly feels like a power grab, stripping property owners of their rights to adapt their homes to life’s changes. It’s a bitter pill: your land, your investment, but not your choice.

What I’ve Learned—and What You Should Know

My crash course in FAR taught me one thing: it’s not going away. Townships love it because it’s a concrete way to control growth without relying on vague zoning debates. And while it’s not in the IBC yet, I wouldn’t be surprised if it creeps into future editions as more jurisdictions adopt it. For now, it’s a patchwork of local rules, and my township’s early adoption has left homeowners like those I’ve spoken to in a bind.

If you’re planning a project, here’s my advice: check your FAR first. Call your township, dig through their zoning code, or talk to someone who’s navigated it. It’s not just about square footage—it’s about how your life fits into the space you’re allowed. I’ve seen too many dreams downsized by this ratio, and I don’t want you to be next. FAR might be here to stay, but understanding it gives you a fighting chance to work within—or around—its limits.