When the Station Fire swept the Angeles National Forest in 2009, Colleen and Jason Warnesky watched it from their Altadena, Calif., front porch. Eleven years later they watched the Bobcat Fire. Their post‑WWII house survived both. So when the Eaton Fire erupted more than three miles away in January 2025, they assumed they’d be spared again. They were wrong.
Fifteen months after the blaze, the Warneskys pace a fenced dirt lot where their 1,400‑square‑foot home once stood. The land has been cleared of toxins; they’re waiting for city drainage permits before pouring a foundation. They’re among dozens in the neighborhood choosing manufactured homes to rebuild, guided in part by a local program from city‑LAB UCLA that showcased six prefab options and offered financing and process help.
The surge in climate‑driven disasters — wildfires, hurricanes, floods and tornadoes — is shifting how people rebuild. Many survivors want homes made from materials designed to resist extreme weather and fire, and they want quicker, less stressful routes to occupancy. Prefabricated and modular homes answer those needs: they can be customized, are increasingly resilient, and often cost less than traditional on‑site construction. Depending on options, prices range from under $100 to over $500 per square foot, not including land.
Manufacturers are designing prefab homes to withstand category‑5 hurricane winds, earthquakes, hail, heavy snow and fire. Some firms use composite structural insulated panels with fiberglass exteriors and cement board overlays to boost fire resistance. Harrison Langley, CEO of MDLR Brands, says their panels carry a 30‑minute fire rating and can be hardened to provide roughly an hour’s protection — valuable time to evacuate. The panels are also more elastic than traditional wood framing, improving earthquake performance. Third‑party tests simulate extreme impacts, such as firing a two‑by‑four at high speed to assess resistance to windborne debris.
The Manufactured Housing Institute reports that by 2024 nearly 21 million Americans live in manufactured or mobile homes, and manufactured homes made up more than 9% of new‑home starts that year. Three U.S. companies hold about 83% of the market, with much of the demand in disaster‑prone states like Texas, Florida and California. Builders also point to the growing visibility of accessory dwelling units as proof that consumers are more comfortable with factory‑built housing.
For the Warneskys, the decision to go prefab mixed practicality with safety. After losing everything and wrestling with insurance paperwork, the simplicity of choosing a package that arrives largely finished was appealing. Safety was paramount: their planned house will use steel, glass and concrete and is configured to meet wildland‑urban interface (WUI) standards — areas where homes abut wild vegetation and fire risk is high. “If there was a way to make it so that we had less to worry about if another fire happened in the future, we’d go with that,” Colleen said.
Not all manufactured homes look like the stereotypical “boxy” units. Some companies specialize in customized modular builds that translate unique architectural plans into factory‑produced modules. Linda and Liam Mennis, neighbors of the Warneskys who lost their 1940s 1,600‑square‑foot home in the Eaton Fire, rejected a catalog house. They worked with Bevy House, which converts bespoke designs into modular components produced in controlled facilities and assembled on site. Bevy House’s portfolio includes projects in Southern California, such as a partial rebuild after the 2018 Woolsey Fire — a nearly 8,000‑square‑foot Spanish‑revival home that blended reclaimed materials and custom detailing, and was among the first post‑fire occupancies in that area.
Bevy and similar firms aim to counter the perception that modular equals cookie‑cutter. Using 3‑D digital planning, they break architectural designs into modules, fabricate them, and coordinate on‑site assembly, shortening timelines and improving quality control while preserving bespoke aesthetics.
The concept of appealing, mass‑produced modular housing has deep roots. Ray and Charles Eames explored prefabrication in midcentury projects like Case Study House No. 8, proposing affordable, well‑designed systems using off‑the‑shelf materials. Today Eames Demetrios, director of the Eames Office, has revived that legacy with the Eames Pavilion, developed with Spanish furniture maker Kettal. Unveiled at the Triennale di Milano, the system uses aluminum frames and interchangeable panels of glass, wood, or composites. Initially a single‑room kit for studios or offices, the system is planned to expand into customizable single‑ and multi‑level dwellings by 2027, with projected costs kept below $500 per square foot and options to swap materials for different sites.
Industry leaders say prefab’s advantages extend beyond speed and cost. Factory construction reduces waste, offers tighter quality control, and makes it easier to incorporate new materials and technologies as they emerge. For communities rebuilding after disasters, those benefits can mean safer, faster returns to stable housing — and the option to build something that feels personal rather than temporary.
Still, prefab faces barriers: zoning and permitting rules, insurance and financing practices accustomed to conventional builds, and aesthetic biases. But disaster survivors’ choices are helping change perceptions. In Altadena and other hard‑hit communities, manufactured and modular homes are no longer only about affordability or speed; they’re increasingly seen as a way to build resilience into places where climate disasters are becoming a recurring reality.