The Rise of the "Design-Bait" Hotel

In an Instagram versus TikTok Era of Hospitality

There’s a new breed of hotel I call “design-bait” hotels. These properties feel like they’ve been built for the era of hyper-curation—spaces so visually commanding that you almost have to book a night just to see them in person.

They are, without a doubt, spectacles. In their launch phase, they tend to price themselves parallel to a 5-Star legacy property.

But as I checked into one recently in New York, I was most certainly baited by the hotel’s shiny, sexy look. The service was mid, as the kids say.

While the space itself was arresting—it wasn’t actually owning my experience with anything beyond its color palette.

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At $975 per night, I wondered, Where is the dialogue between guest and space? How will this last? Is it even supposed to?

Maybe in these types of hotels, the experience is designed to be one and done—meaning that the concept is meant to run for a decade under one name, capturing just the high paying, first-time guests before evolving into something else entirely, absorbing the next trend cycle.

Or, it could be that this is a case of a hospitality concept that prioritized visual impact—but didn’t fully consider what keeps people engaged beyond aesthetics.

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The TikTok Era of Hospitality

This disconnect reminds me of the shift from Instagram to TikTok.

Instagram was built for polished aspiration. It rewarded broad, aesthetic appeal—things that looked expensive, styled, and just vague enough to be admired by anyone.

TikTok, on the other hand, thrives on specificity. It creates personalized worlds by linking highly niche interests, drawing people into micro-communities of shared knowledge and passion.

And hospitality, at its best, follows the same principle:

• The most powerful experiences aren’t just beautiful—they feel like they were created for you.

• A hotel isn’t just a space to exist within—it’s an environment that speaks to you in specific ways.

Right now, too many hotels are playing by the old Instagram rules, curating for mass admiration instead of personal connection. But in the post-TikTok world, hospitality should perhaps evolve into something less aspirational, and more intentional.

The hotels that figure this out first will own the next decade of luxury travel.

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BAITED

I don’t mean that every hotel should over-explain itself. Some places are designed to be enigmatic, open-ended, atmospheric. But when a hotel communicates so boldly through its design language, I expect it to continue that caliber of execution through the rest of the experience, either in service, or if not service, then some other x-factor that surprises and delights, especially at a price tag upwards of $800 per night.

The service overall was ok—but it didn’t feel overwhelmingly predictive, intuitive, or tailored. I also didn’t sense that they were collecting my guest preferences along the way to add to a long-term CRM database meant to retain me for life.

(The last time I visited The Wynn Hotel in Las Vegas (2024), they asked if I still needed to avoid unpasteurized cheeses and have extra side pillows sent to my room (a note from a stay in 2019 when I was pregnant).

In this place, it all worked just enough. Just enough to lure me in for an exploratory first stay.

But just enough doesn’t create deep loyalty. I’m not convinced that I’d come again for anything other than a mid-week cocktail and a selfie.

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Where This Concept Could Go Next

If these hotels are, in fact, designed for the short-term experience rather than long-term legacy, that’s an interesting model. Because what I spent at the design-bait hotel in 3 days is within the range of what I’d spend returning to a nearby hotel with mid-design at half the price, four times in a year.

If the goal however is to create something more lasting, here’s how these spaces could build upon their already strong foundation: