Standard-fare takeaways from a stay at a hotel might include a travel-sized bar soap and a tear-off note pad where fledgling ideas for a new book have been scribbled. If there’s a bowl of them around, a traveler might tuck a printed box of matches or two into a weekend duffle bag; a tiny ephemeral something to remember a place by. If someone’s feeling especially spendy, they might decide to invest in the delightful hotel bathrobe that’s available for sale. They’ll reason that the bathrobe will be the key to recreating the feeling of calm and gratitude that’s enveloped them for the past 24 hours. (It won’t be, but it’ll remain a lovely bathrobe all the same.)
On my personal list of things that I most loved about spending a night at Tourists in North Adams, Massachusetts this past weekend, were comforts that I couldn’t exactly transport back to my Brooklyn apartment. There was an in-ground swimming pool framed in slate and flanked on three sides by white lounge chairs and umbrellas, for example. There was a pre-ordered breakfast service—a brown butter and rye waffle with a dollop of rhubarb compote and whipped skyr—delivered to me hot. There was a suspension bridge over a babbling river and live music. There was a king-sized bed with a miracle of a mattress, a bathroom mirror without toothpaste splatter, and an utterly spotless toilet that had not been cleaned by me. Almost heaven, Western Massachusetts.
But there were also other things—clever solutions dreamed up for providing a bit of comfort in a temporary resting place—that I could readily incorporate into my non-hotel life. They represent small efforts that make a meaningful difference in how a space and its objects can feel and function, in other words, my very favorite kind of effort.
In case anyone else is interested in very specific recommendations from the loveliest motor hotel in the Berkshires, here’s my list of takeaways. (In case it’s not abundantly clear, I’m not suggesting that anyone walk off with these solutions in their physical form, only that we receive these Very Good Ideas and implement them as we’d like in our own humble abodes.):
DIY CANVAS TV-COVERS: The single most delightfully MAKING THINGS-style item in the hotel room that I shared with Rose was a simple canvas TV cover. Like most hotel rooms, the Tourists rooms are outfitted with a generously sized flat screen television, mounted to the wall. Rather than having guests stare at the black void of a screen when not in use, the genius staff sewed simple canvas covers for them. They couldn’t have been simpler: rectangles of cotton canvas cut to size with two triangular pockets sewed onto the top. They’re neat and clean and probably something that most TV or large-computer-screen-having folks would be both right and able to recreate to their own specs at home.
Don’t over think it: Take a rectangle of fabric sized to match the TV, with an extra 1/2 inch or so for a seam allowance. Cut two triangles of fabric to match the size of the upper two corners; pin and sew the triangles in place and turn ‘em inside out. Slip the corner pockets over each top corner of the TV and let the simple cover hang serenely over top of the screen. When you’re ready to watch, just slip it off. TV, covered.
STORING HAIR DRYERS ETC. IN A DRAWSTRING BAG: Hotel bathrooms, like small apartment bathrooms, aren’t typically set up with a whole lot of available storage. One small hotel hack that I integrated into my family’s life earlier this year is storing the hairdryer in a simple drawstring bag to hang from a hook in the bathroom. The drawstring bag keeps an ugly tool with an unruly cord neatly tucked out of sight, but it also allows the hairdryer to be readily available for the winter mornings when someone needs convincing that it’s not wise to take a morning shower and immediately walk a mile to school with sopping wet hair. At Tourists, this drawstring bag was tucked into an ever-useful canvas tool/water bucket (similar to this one, but other options ABOUND), which is another unsung hero in the world of affordable storage solutions.
Don’t over think it: You probably already have the drawstring bag for the job. In my own life, I use the white cotton bag that a nightgown came wrapped in, and it’s just the right size. I hang it on a small hook (this one would be perfect; and I’m also very partial to these) that I attached to my rental bathroom tile with Sugru. A good eight months later, it’s still hanging on.
TRIANGULAR BATHROOM BAR SOAP: Anyone who’s a longtime reader of my work knows my affinity for bar soap. At Tourists they have a genius trick that’s just a notch more artful than what I’ve done at home before: bathroom sink bar soap cut into small triangles. I’ve often cut full bars of soap into smaller pieces for hand-washing at the bathroom sink, but at Tourists the bars of soap (Mater, I think!) were sliced into little triangles which make them at least 50% cuter and which no doubt prevent a tremendous amount of soap waste. My only regret is leaving ours behind.
Don’t over think it: Get out a big kitchen knife (or even better, a straight bench scraper) and slice into your rectangular bar soap to make cute little geometric off-cuts of whatever shape you like. It would be especially satisfying to do this with Mater’s Imperfect Soaps, but any sharp-angled bar soap would lend itself nicely to the job.
FOLD-UP CHAIRS, HUNG ON THE WALL: Longtime readers might remember my quest for the perfect, lightweight, nice-to-look-at, reasonably priced folding chair of dreams. As I’ve said before, I generally find these sorts of chairs to be “too heavy, too ugly, too uncertain” and though there were lots of solid recommendations from readers on this post I haven’t personally committed to purchasing any of them. After this weekend however, I have a new folding chair to add to my lust list. Our Tourist room came with two folding Kermit Chair Company Chairs. They’re very cute, relatively lightweight, they fold up flat (and also smaller than that) and they look so smart hanging on the wall by the door. The originals have a price tag that reflects the quality and care of the design and that might also be out of reach for many of us, but if you can score some of these beauties used, I’d say you wouldn’t be disappointed. A caveat: eBay seems to be rife with fakes and I have absolutely no idea how they compare to the real-deal.
Don’t over think it: While you wait for your chair o’ dreams to materialize, or if you absolutely shan’t be doing any waiting, the Byer of Maine Pangean Lounger is a close second to the Kermit in terms of comfort and cuteness, tho probably somewhat less ample in the seat region. It would look equally cute hung up on a wall awaiting the need for additional and/or portable seating. For my part, I’m deciding where I might hang my own DIY folding chair, recently re-done, and eager to be less regularly left out in the rain this time around.
What do you think? Feel very free to share favorite hotel takeaways of your own in the comments below!
This is my younger brother's idea. For decades, he's been taking do not disturb signs and now has an enormous collection of them. There's some conceptual art project in store.
Doesn’t sound like this was Erin’s experience, but I’m curious— Do any other parents of small children get *way too excited* about a hotel room to yourself and then inevitably end up disappointed? I’ve had a few “wherever you go, there you are” moments at highly anticipated nights away from kids. Like I can’t sleep or I feel lonely or I just can’t settle in for some reason.