On a recent visit to 7 Spring, a backgammon café in Nolita, one thing immediately stood out. There were no open laptops, no headphones, and no one working half an hour while waiting for coffee. Every table was occupied by people immersed in the game. The café has given people a reason to seek them out. In a city overflowing with options, this exclusivity created something rare: a true sense of belonging.
7Spring’s concept and focus has stuck around because hotels face a remarkably similar challenge. When everything is available, abundance ceases to feel like luxury. Relevance and finding your niche does that. For decades, the industry has defined luxury by accumulation: more amenities, more threads, more options. These things are still important, but they no longer distinguish a property on their own. When a beautiful room becomes the price of admission, the most compelling proposition is convenience.
In turn, travelers are increasingly defined by their interests rather than demographics. Surprisingly, age, income and nationality tell you little about what a person wants from residency. A shared obsession with wine, golf, health or even knitting can tell you more, and determine the places people choose to travel to.
From abundance to importance
We see knitting groups moving like a flock from the west of Ireland to Florence, united only by a shared passion. While interest-led travel is not new – golf resorts have been around for generations – the extent to which luxury hospitality is now built around communities of interest rather than traditional market segments is new. You see it at The Kithmore, the newly opened course in Scotland’s famous golfing district of St Andrews, where the sense of community is evident in the name itself: ‘kith’ is an old Scots word meaning friendship, familiarity and a sense of home.
When we set out to create the Kithmore brand, our intention was never to create a themed hotel or fill the space with golf clichés. Quiet references—like the notepad and pencil in the guest room that take their cues from an old scorecard and the small handheld pencil on the course—are subtle enough to go unnoticed by some guests, but recognizable to those who love the game. For them, the joy is in discovering that every detail has been curated, selected and considered through the lens of golf. This feeling of being understood, without the idea having to announce itself, is what makes privacy feel luxurious.
Passion-based digital communities — from Reddit to niche group chats to social platforms — have accelerated this shift by making it easier for people to find others who share even the most intimate interests, and then organize journeys around them. The hospitality opportunity is to translate this online convergence into a physical experience: a place where guests not only consume a service, but get to know themselves and each other.
Why pay privacy?
There is clear business logic to this approach as well. A generic five-star hotel can become little more than an expensive base from which guests can experience the surrounding neighborhoods. A property with a distinct perspective wins them a greater share of their time, not by keeping them captive, but by offering them experiences they can’t muster elsewhere.
The Beckett Hotel, a wine-focused hotel in Oregon, is a useful example. It wouldn’t necessarily be considered luxury in the old sense. However, for someone who cares deeply about wine, it can feel more luxurious than a traditional five-star accommodation. Glassware, use of language staff, on-site winemaking, the rhythm of tasting and even the pre-arrival digital experience are all considered through the same lens. The guest feels understood before they have to ask.
However, designing for a narrower audience is not the same as designing for fewer people. It changes the question from “Will everyone like this?” To “Will.” our People like this?” And this shift affects more than just aesthetics. It affects how guests gather, what they do throughout the day, and what places deserve the most attention. Bars and restaurants become social anchors, and retail outlets become places to signal identity. Programming stops feeling like a convenient calendar and becomes a reason to book.
The broader luxury market is moving in the same direction. Bain and Altagamma’s 2026 update found that consumer sentiment toward luxury experiences was low It grows 1.5 times faster Of feelings toward tangible goods. McKinsey estimates that travelers are already spending Between $1.1 trillion and $1.3 trillion years of experiences, and the survey found that 52 percent of Gen Z travelers spend on experiences compared to 29 percent of baby boomers.
Preference is not just about doing more. About 83 percent of American Express Travel’s 2026 global Millennial and Gen Z survey respondents said they Prioritize unique and authentic experiences On popular tourist attractions, while 91% expressed interest in non-traditional housing. The message to hotels is clear and direct: excellence is no longer just a layer of marketing, it is part of the offer.
Specific doesn’t have to mean loud
But a clear point of view doesn’t necessarily mean a loud topic or a busy schedule. While working at a Waldorf Astoria hotel, we found that our target guest wanted the opposite: secrecy, calm and space to reset. Instead of filling the calendar with activation, we designed restraint with fewer, more intentional moments, a softer operational cadence and a service that feels personal without becoming intrusive. It was as specific as a wine hotel, but “prestige” was a state of mind.
This can be a challenge for legacy luxury brands. Consistency is their strength, but it is also likely to flatten the character of individual ownership. The answer is to give each hotel enough local relevance — through food and beverage, programs, partnerships and services — to feel rooted in its destination rather than superimposed, without throwing away the brand promise.
Build a platform, not a costume
The danger, of course, is getting it wrong. I misread society and the concept fell through. Push the idea too far and it turns into a tradition. Authenticity and restraint are what separates a place that feels pretentious from a place that feels contrived. The best hospitality concepts are platforms, not fashions: clear enough to attract attention, but flexible enough to evolve as their communities do.
The future of luxury hospitality is not limited to hotels with the most amenities, the most luxurious lobbies, or the longest list of activities. It belongs to the estates with a clear point of view that understands what to leave out and who will notice. Perhaps the greatest luxury is simply walking through the door and realizing, “These people understand why I’m here.”
