My House, But Empty: A Five-Star Hotel Review
★★★★★ — would stay again
People talk about needing a break. A hotel. A spa. A pillow menu. I have stayed in enough of them to know the real answer is simpler: your own house, when nobody else is in it.
I have stayed in this hotel before. The reviews were excellent.
The Bed
Percale cotton. I googled what hotels use and then I bought it. Thread count verified. Washed at 60 degrees. By me. So I know.
When I travel, I lie in hotel beds thinking about what temperature they launder at and whether those decorative throw pillows have ever, in their lives, seen the inside of a washing machine. Here, I know the answers to both questions. I sleep accordingly.
The Pillow
Cooling. From IKEA. I didn’t know it existed until I saw it. Then I needed it, and now it is load-bearing. I have my magnesium on the nightstand. I have my lavender spray. Sleep has become my whole personality in a way I didn’t see coming, and this hotel accommodates that without judgment.
The Bathroom
My shampoo. My skincare. Everything exactly where I left it and smelling precisely the way I want it to smell. No tiny bottles of something called Revitalising Moisture Complex that I will use once and feel nothing about. Full-size products, chosen by me, for me, arranged in the order I use them.
The Minibar
Whatever I bought on Monday specifically for this occasion. Not wasabi peanuts. A glass of something if I want it, at a price that does not require a moment of financial reckoning. The snacks in this hotel are exceptional. Nobody has touched them.
The Restaurant
A poke bowl. On the couch. In pyjamas I have been wearing since two in the afternoon, because there was no reason not to. The bowl is eaten with legs crossed, hunched slightly inward, in silence.
The Dress Code
None. Or rather: whatever has an elasticated waist and has not been changed since early afternoon, and there is no reason to change it.
The Television
I know how it works. Every button. I did not have to learn this just now. I have been connected to this WiFi for three years. I know the password. I did not have to find it on a small laminated card.
Room Service
Does not exist here, which is a feature. Room service sounds better than it is. You have to ring down. You have to wait. Someone arrives with a tray and you have to interact with them at close range, in a hotel bathrobe, and then the tray sits outside your door for the rest of the evening, half-eaten, the smell lingering every time you pass.
The Sounds
I know all of them. The particular creak of the third stair. The boiler doing its thing at seven. None of them require investigation. This is quieter than any hotel I have stayed in, and the quiet here is mine.
Check-Out
When they come home. The dog first. Then the noise. Then the question of what’s for dinner, as if this place has not been a five-star hotel all day.
Five stars. No notes. I’m already looking forward to next time.