OPUS Hotels recognized as Best in the World by Conde Nast Traveler Magazine

It’s time to say “bye-bye” to big hotel chains and their long lobby lineups and “hello!” to the friendly service of boutique hotels. Readers of Condé Nast Traveler Magazine have done just that.

OPUS Hotels was recently recognized amongst the world’s hospitality elite as “Best in the World” and “Best in Business Travel” by readers of Condé Nast Traveler. In fact, OPUS Hotels was the only boutique brand included on the Best in Business Travel list which has us feeling very thankful considering that travelers have a lot of choices.

Year after year, OPUS Hotels is widely recognized as best of the best by esteemed outlets including Condé Nast Traveler, Travel + Leisure and Forbes Traveler. OPUS Hotels, for consecutive years, has even been included in the Presenters’ Gift Baskets at the Academy Awards.

As General Manager of OPUS Vancouver, I am extremely proud to share these achievements with our Team.

So what sets OPUS Hotels apart in a crowded market?

Without giving away all of OPUS’ fabulous secrets, here are the top 5 reasons savvy business travelers crave a dose of OPUS while on the road:

1. Complimentary Welcome Beverage
   After a long day of traveling and being assaulted by frisky airport security agents, it’s nice to unwind with a drink. That’s why OPUS Hotels offers every guest a refreshing welcome cocktail at check-in (something airport security could consider before those invasive pat-downs).
2. Residential Ambience
   Something to read other than the room service book? A custom music selection to rock out to in the shower? Rooms at OPUS Hotels are unlike any other. Inspired by five fictional guests, each room has its own personality, from modern and minimalist to artful and eclectic. Rooms are complete with a unique selection of artwork, books, magazines and music.
3. Luxury BMW Downtown Chauffeur Car Service
   Time is money. Jet-setting business guests don’t like to wait in taxi queues, nor do they care for chatty cabbies blasting foreign radio. That’s why OPUS Vancouver and Montreal offer all guests complimentary downtown drop-offs in the hotels’ luxurious BMWs. So whether guests are attending a button-down business meeting, or simply popping off for some late night Chinese – OPUS makes sure they arrive in style.  
4. Whimsical Service
   After a long day at the office, guests return to a sensory wonderland in their rooms. From freshly turned down bed linens and cool water carafes to relaxing mood music and retro candy bedtime treats, getting into bed with OPUS is an unforgettable experience.
5. Award Winning Bars & Restaurants
   The Zagat rated, award winning bars and restaurants at OPUS Hotels are sought-after destinations themselves. No visit to Vancouver is complete without meeting over drinks at OPUS Bar or enjoying a taste of La Dolce Vita at OPUS’ Cento Notti Pop-Up Restaurant. OPUS Montreal’s KOKO Restaurant + Bar is the city’s premier dining and nightlife hotspot, and was recently included on Condé Nast’s Hot List, Hot Nights List. Hint, hint – a perfect venue to entertain discerning business associates and clients.

No video for Billy yet—he doesn’t do suites, so he’ll have to wait until rooms are refreshed. Just so he doesn’t feel left out, we included an image of him doing what he does best: just being.

DEDE:

MIKE:

SUSAN:

PIERRE:

BILLY:

Far out and funky! Virtually overnight, One Hundred Days has been stripped of its edgy art studio vibe and has magically morphed into an entirely new pop-up concept with a vaguely familiar name: One Hundred Nights.

Think seventies discotastic wonderland: sparkly silver walls, murals of pop icons like Ziggy Stardust and Iggy Pop by graffiti artist Vince Dumoulin (pictured above working his magic), and the all-essential glitter balls. Plus a groovy blend of glamour and whimsy—pink and white chairs, white tablecloths, and table flowers spray-painted in a kaleidoscope of colours. Best of all, the picnic tables are gone, so no more butt splinters. Chef Brandon Thordarson has refreshed the menu (“american with a small a”) but has wisely held over the Kick Ass Burger.

Boogie on, the seventies are back! But not forever (thank God)—this is a pop-up restaurant after all. So all you foxy mamas and cool cats better dust off those gold platform shoes, let out the waist on those hip-hugging bell bottoms, tease that big ole ‘fro, and—

Then again, please don’t.

What exactly is a pop-up restaurant? Not to be confused with a fly-by-night restaurant, which is an entirely different thing, a pop-up is a temporary restaurant that opens for a specific period of time and then transforms again, moves to a new location, or takes early retirement in a timeshare in Bora Bora.

LudoBites is generally considered to be the original pop-up restaurant; it’s been roaming the streets of Los Angeles since 2007. In New York, What Happens When transforms every 30 days. And The Feast in the Sanctuary Hotel opens on March 10—and closes on March 12.

There are pop-up hotels too. The name doesn’t exactly inspire confidence in structural integrity, but it’s a growing phenomen. There have been pop-up hotels in London, Paris, and Singapore. Last year, Visit London opened one in March and closed up shop five days later. That sounds like a case of bad management to me, but apparently it was all planned. The “hotel” looked suspiciously like an Airstream trailer, and each day guests woke up in a different sightseeing location.

OPUS Hotel Vancouver’s pop-up concept was originally conceived to buy time while plans were drawn up for a permanent replacement for Elixir. But it proved so wildly popular that One Hundred Days turned into about One Hundred and Eighty Days. And now we’re into Nights. But really, who’s counting?

“When we opened One Hundred Days, we set out to do something completely unexpected, creative, and extraordinary,” explains John deC Evans, president and CEO of Opus Hotels. “With One Hundred Nights, the surprise will continue within the context of our pop-up concept.” The space was designed by Robert Bailey and is co-managed by OPUS Hotels and Peter Girges of RocksGlass Concepts.

One Hundred Nights will be in constant motion, with new art going up weekly, but it won’t be around for long. So get down here and boogie before it’s outta sight. As for that Lycra cat suit and headband? Save it for Halloween.

Seriously.

See you there!

For reservations call 604 642-0557 or click here.

What do you think about the pop-up trend? Share your comments here.

A recent story on CBC Television about the public restrooms at OPUS has ignited a firestorm of controversy that could only take place in the age of social media. Last week, Elisabeth Everett reported that while celebrating her sister’s birthday in OPUS Bar she was shocked to discover that men could observe her via video monitors mounted over the urinals in the restroom.

To date, over 300 comments have been posted to the CBC’s website. Many express anger and outrage, mostly related to the mistaken belief that the cameras point into the bathroom. Others get the setup but still feel it’s an invasion of privacy. Some wonder what the big deal is.

At OPUS, we lean toward the latter. The cameras have been there since 2002, part of the lounge’s playful “see and be seen” theme, and until now have elicited little more than bemused smiles. Three cameras feed into monitors mounted over the urinals in the men’s room and over the vanity in the ladies’ room. The system is closed-circuit, the footage not recorded or broadcast. The 5-inch monitors emit a grainy, bird’s eye view of the lounge – certainly not optimum conditions for leering at patrons. A far more alluring view is offered by the floor-to-ceiling windows in OPUS Bar.

Since many reacted with such vitriol, we thought it prudent to respond. But while scrolling through the comments on the CBC site, it occurred to me that everything that can be said has been said, and with far more eloquence and humor than I ever could. So rather than subject you to corporate mumbo jumbo, I’ll let the commenters speak for themselves.

The controversy was fueled by the CBC’s ambiguous headline: “Vancouver bar’s urinal TVs raise concern”. Urinal TVs? That does sound creepy. No wonder CWaddell2 wrote, “Sleazy and disgusting, again humans slide back further down the scale of de-evolution … Someone get me off the planet!” Take us with you, CWaddell2. Meanwhile, Sediba remarked, “it should really be a human right to expect complete privacy when eliminating bodily waste.” Ya think, Sebida? Gastoned wasn’t quite so riveted, writing, “Cmon CBC, report on real things that matter.”

To add fuel to the fire, the CBC consulted Richard Rosenberg, president of the B.C. Freedom of Information and Privacy Association, who graced them with this gem of a pull-quote: “I think there’s a crime involved here.” A crime … really? Not according to Measwell: “First off,” he wrote, “when interviewing an expert … make sure they are an expert … I happen to know this is NOT against ANY law here … This is 2010 and most bars have cameras in them.” Damn, we were hoping that our general manager being hauled away in handcuffs might garner international headlines.

Still, that wasn’t enough to placate Lickmytoad. “Legal or not this sets a new standard for sleaze,” he wrote. In turn, Jamrobin took a jab at him and others: “… it’s actually probably YOU that’s a little creepy for thinking like that!” Fortunately, Icepick came to the rescue as the voice of reason: “I think the premise here is that the guy’s can scout out the chicks with the biggest boobs while they are releaving themselves. And the ladies can cruise for the guys with the most money.” Thanks for clearing things up, Icepick.

You can always rely on a conspiracy theorist to weigh in, and SuKnew did not disappoint. “I understand there is an employee who oversees the area as well,” he said. Cue eerie music. Meanwhile, Tapilot brought up a point we hadn’t considered: “Stupid bar owners. The object should be to get patrons rapidly out of the washrooms and back to buying more drinks.” Note to OPUS Bar manager.

If OPUS really had wanted to stir things up, we would have installed microphones in addition to cameras. As it stands now, all you can do is squint at the screen and wonder if your friends are talking about you. OMFriday came up with an even more creative suggestion: “How about adding a video device to the urinals that would measure a man’s equipment and display the results, perhaps as a bar graph on a monitor in the lounge?” Note to maintenance: get quote.

As for the woman who so dutifully called us out to the CBC as peepshow-playing pervs, ChillinginMB has some advice, “Okay Elisabeth, you’ve had your so-called 15 minutes of fame, now it’s time for you to get a life.”

Yes, OPUS likes to be a bit edgy, and for that we offer no apologies. We try not to take ourselves too seriously here, but we do take our guests seriously. If you are offended by the cameras, we are sincerely sorry, as that is not our intention. For those who sprang to our defense, we salute you. Whichever camp you belong to, we admire impassioned and outspoken people. Your feedback and suggestions are always welcome – if not always heeded.

In closing, we can’t help but echo the sentiment of Orderoftheblack: “i find it amusing anyone even cares.”

I can see dignified concierges everywhere clutching their golden keys and gasping in indignation at the title of this post. But hear me out. 

Technology has placed a world of resources at the fingertips of travelers. Mobile applications allow us to walk out of our hotel, point our phone into the street, and find local restaurants and entertainment, peruse reviews, consult maps and make reservations. In a PhoCusWright survey last year, 67% of travelers reported having used a mobile device to find local services. Almost daily, hotels and travel companies are releasing mobile apps and mobile-compatible websites packed with information normally dispensed by the capable hotel concierge.

Where does that leave the concierge? Parking cars? Slinging drinks in the lounge?

Let’s hope not. As a traveler, I love having the services of a concierge. But I’ve noticed an alarming trend of late: the empty concierge desk. During the economic downturn, hotel managers were forced to find ways to cut costs, and many set their sights on the concierge. There he sat, primly at his desk, occupying prime lobby real estate and yet taking in no revenue. Compared to the back-breaking work of housekeeping and the frenetic work of the kitchen, the role of the concierge seemed a bit frivolous in such lean times. Out came the schedule, and concierge hours were slashed. In some hotels, a permanent “Off Duty” sign was placed on the desk.

Did service levels nosedive? Did guests post scathing reviews on TripAdvisor because they couldn’t get front row seats to Hairspray? Perhaps. But many travelers simply turned to our mobile phones. There we found a portable, pocket-sized concierge who never recommends restaurants we can’t afford or purses his lips when asked for directions to the nearest Taco Bell.

 Can a service that is so often unavailable be considered essential? I find that the more urgently I need a concierge, the higher the likelihood her desk will be empty. Concierges operate under mysterious hours, seeming to open and close at random, like shops in Spain at siesta time. They’re always out running errands for needier guests; at the post office mailing a left-behind artificial limb; conducting cultural tours of Chinatown; shopping for that perfect ascot to match a guest’s leopard-skin jumpsuit. If she is at her desk, she’s busy reorganizing round-the-world itineraries for a guest with a heavy foreign accent and his entourage of eighteen.

 This obliges us to go to the front desk for assistance. Here the simplest questions, such as “Where is the nearest drugstore?” and “What street are we on?” can be met with blank stares. That’s because hotels recruit front desk staff from distant suburbs and lock them up during breaks. Or so goes my theory. Have you ever asked an agent who looks like she’s spent all of her fourteen years in a convent about the local club scene? Or a bellman who looks like he moonlights at a biker bar where to go antiquing? It’s no wonder we turn to our phones.

In this era of death-match bargain-hunting, when travelers will book a hotel blind and forgo even the most basic of services if it means getting a deal, is a concierge with intimate knowledge of the finest restaurants in the city really that essential? Aren’t these travelers dining at Applebee’s? And yet some travelers are utterly dependent on the concierge; upon arriving at a hotel, they become incapable of performing even the simplest of tasks, like confirming a flight or placing a stamp on an envelope. These people aren’t likely to turn to their mobile phones for help.

Some hotels have replaced concierges with touch-screen kiosks. That might work at airports, but hotel employees are still relatively pleasant to travelers – we like dealing with them. At a time when online travel agencies and price wars have virtually commoditized hotels, concierge services are a way for a hotel to distinguish itself. More than any employee, the concierge can turn a ho-hum stay into an unforgettable experience. In the age of social media, that can have a direct impact on guest reviews and business.

Can a hotel that doesn’t offer concierge services call itself luxury – or even upscale? The Four Seasons’ Isadore Sharp describes the concierge as “a combination of personal secretary, aide-de-camp, tour guide, travel agent, social director, best friend and flat-out miracle worker.” No wonder concierges are never at their desk. They’re out building orphanages. As a front desk agent, I used to have to cover the concierge desk during breaks. My typical reaction to guest requests was, “You want me to do what??” I was always relieved when the concierge returned. “Of course, sir,” she would say, with astonishing composure, “I’d be delighted to organize your daughter’s wedding.”

Not everyone has a smart phone, nor is willing to use it. I love my iPhone, but the volume of information it dispenses can be overwhelming. Sometimes I simply want to be told where to go and pointed in that direction. And so far my iPhone hasn’t volunteered to call up the owner of a sold-out restaurant to secure a table, like my concierge in Barcelona did. As smart as our phones are, they simply can’t replace the personal contacts and insider knowledge of the seasoned concierge.

The concierge will stay modern and relevant by embracing newly available tools. Concierge software enables hotels to create mini-Yelp systems exclusively for clientele. Mobile apps and websites offer reviews and imagery to supplement the concierge’s advice. Some hotels, like Intercontinental, have begun to equip concierges with iPads to assist with directions, advice and reservations.

By harnessing modern technology to enhance personalized service, the concierge will continue to play an integral role in the upscale hotel experience. And that’s great news for travelers. Let’s hope we see them back at their desks soon – and not up in rooms making beds.

At OPUS, we have a unique approach to concierge services. Rather than have a dedicated concierge, we use local knowledge as a criterion for hiring, and train all guest services staff to provide concierge services, which enables us to provide these services 24/7. We also offer our one-of-a-kind Lifestyle Concierge in Vancouver and Montreal, with recommendations tailored to match each guest’s unique personality and tastes.

What do you think about the future of the hotel concierge? Post your comments here. For more perspectives, check out the debate in the comments section of my personal blog.

My comments prompted a minor outcry, though notably not from hotel managers but from third-party web marketers, who were quick to point out the benefits of blogs to search engine optimization. Last year, a Hubspot survey reported that small businesses with a blog receive 55% more website traffic and 97% more inbound links than small businesses without a blog.

If anyone understands the value of a hotel blog, I do. It was four years ago this month that I started this blog as the General Manager’s Blog, a first in the industry. Our then-director of marketing, Katrina, came up with the idea, and I’m still mad at her. Nevertheless, I tackled my first posts with zeal, writing in a breezy style that suggested I had banged them out between check-ins. In fact, a great deal of effort went into making them sound effortless.

From the outset I promised to give an insider’s look at the hotel business and to “leave out the boring parts”. As the manager of an independent contemporary hotel, I could get away with being a bit edgy; writing things other hotel managers think but don’t dare say. I covered taboo subjects like relocating, construction and guest complaints. I debated the pros and cons of offering sex toys in the mini-bar. And I vented about a challenging weekend in which a guest received a stream of “nieces” to his room and a drag queen gave her room a makeover … with her makeup.

In many ways, hotels are an ideal platform for a blog. We welcome a stream of new guests each day, and they bring with them unique stories, inspiration and, occasionally, drama. But while reporting on guest antics might be great for attracting blog traffic, it can also frighten travelers away. So I’ve had to walk a fine line, providing enough intrigue to appeal to readers while respecting the privacy of guests. With such a narrow scope, I’ve often found myself staring hopelessly at a blank computer screen, feeling increasingly anxious about the other duties I’m neglecting. It’s a lot more fun to swill cocktails with clients in the hotel lounge.

Given the challenges, it’s no surprise that blogs written by hoteliers are still quite rare. Some of the best I’ve seen are published like an online magazine, rich in imagery and content, with enviable resources backing them. Others are simpler, maintained by the owner or manager of a small hotel or inn, with compelling, quirky stories and an intensely personal feel.

Recently, I came across a new blog for a bed-and-breakfast whose author promised to post something every day so as “not to disappoint” her readers. All I could think was good luck. It’s only a matter of time before she resorts to writing about kittens, what she had for breakfast, and why beige is her favourite colour. I try to avoid this fate by blogging infrequently and writing long posts, exploring topics from various angles.

In this age of social media, a blog provides a platform for hotels to engage with guests. But readers rarely leave comments, and I’m often convinced that no one is listening—and that if anyone is listening, they think I’m a moron. Then, just as I’m sinking into total despair, I’ll receive a gushing comment about how great my blog is … only to realize it’s spam from a timeshare in Goa. Travelers tend to be more active in sharing content on Facebook, Twitter and, of course, TripAdvisor and other online travel communities.

What readers probably don’t know about the OPUS blog is that it’s frequently quoted and republished across the web, has been lauded by publications from Condé Nast Traveler to USA Today, and is followed by travelers, hotel employees and students around the world.

At the end of 2007, I left OPUS to focus on writing. My successor as general manager, Nicholas, a clever fellow, opted to delegate the blog to Katrina. Suddenly Katrina wasn’t so thrilled about her brilliant idea. Rechristening it OPUS Hotels’ Blog, she explored meaningful issues like hotels and the environment and healthful drinking. Needless to say, readership plummeted. (Okay, I’m kidding.) In 2008, I returned as interim resident manager of OPUS Montreal and have been maintaining the blog since, along with working on various other projects.

There’s no question, a blog can be great for SEO and can give personality to a hotel, helping to distinguish it from other hotels. If a property has the skills and commitment for the long haul, I say go for it; we need more hoteliers in the blogosphere. If not, the hotel’s scarce resources might be better channeled elsewhere.

Why does OPUS persist? The blog has become a part of our culture, drawing people to our site who might not otherwise find us and giving our guests a flavour of what to expect before they arrive. Looking ahead, we plan to integrate it further into our marketing and social media activities and to bring back some of its original edge. Our marketing director, Chella, tells me I’ve softened of late. Apparently, I was getting dangerously close to writing about kittens.

OPUS Hotels’ Top Ten Most Popular Blog Posts:

1. So You Want to Work in Hotels
2. Is Green the New Black?
3. Hotels in Space
4. Deconstructing the Hotel Mini-Bar
5. SOS from Island Paradise
6. The Tyranny of the Mistreated Traveler
7. What to Do When Things Go Wrong in a Hotel
8. Online Travel Reviewers to Watch Out For
9. Behind the Scenes Before the Winter Olympics
10. The Day the Earth Stood Still

Do you have a favourite travel or hotel blog or blogging tips of your own? Share them here.

Guess which of these handsome devils is a doorman at Opus? Hint: look for a flash of pink.

Now even before you step through the doors of Opus Hotels you know you’re somewhere extraordinary. We’ve partnered with iconic shoe designer John Fluevog to outfit all male guest services employees in Vancouver and Montreal in the Porter Shoe, designed exclusively for Opus Hotels.

Says Fluevog, whose footwear fashions have been spotted everywhere from Madonna’s feet to high-fashion runways, “The Porter Shoe lets guests know that their stay and the service will be of the highest quality, but that it’s still alright to relax and have a wink of fun here and there.”

Put yourself in our shoes by ordering a pair via the in-room mini-bar menu at Opus Hotels or by entering to win a trip for two to Montreal or Vancouver complete with two pairs of Porter Shoes. A limited supply is coming soon to one of Fluevog Shoes’ ten stores in North America.

For more information visit Opus Hotels on Facebook.

People often corner me at social functions to tell me about a problem they’ve had in a hotel. It doesn’t matter if I’ve never worked for the hotel or the incident occurred seventeen years ago; apparently, it’s my duty to listen. Sometimes I get the impression they think I’m somehow to blame.

I don’t mind, though. Bad service stories are fascinating. But often, as I hear the teller describe how the entire hotel staff conspired to ruin her stay, I see a different side. I see employees trying to help, and I see guests getting in the way. And I can’t help but think that if travelers had a bit more insight into how hotels worked, they’d have more time to enjoy their trips. And I’d have more fun at cocktail parties.

To that end, I thought I’d share a few insider tips on what to do when things go wrong in a hotel.  

Should you complain? Probably. Hotels need to know if you’re dissatisfied; it gives us a chance to turn things around for you and to fix things for future guests. But if you set expectations the hotel can’t meet, such as a harbor view in a prairie hotel, resist the temptation to shift the blame. The best way to avoid unpleasant surprises is to check out online reviews before you book. They’ll give you the real story, warts and all.

Talk to someone who can fix the problem. Yes, it feels good to unload on friends, colleagues and random strangers, but repetition heightens feelings of victimization, and chances are they’re not listening anyway. If the issue is minor, speak to the front desk. If it’s significant, ask for the duty manager. If tears and family heirlooms are involved, contact the general manager. If there’s blood, call 911.

No more drama. Hotels will go to great lengths to appease guests, but it’s kind of hard if you’re throwing furniture or lunging at our throat. Ladies are discouraged from standing sullenly aside while their husband complains, uttering little huffs to convey feelings about their husband (wimp) and the manager (moron). Gentlemen, no need to inform us of your net worth, shoe size or number of Twitter followers. By virtue of being dissatisfied, you’re important enough.

The maid didn’t steal your tiara. Hotel managers receive frequent calls from frantic guests who have misplaced a valuable item and immediately blame the nearest employee. Invariably, the item turns up. When a guest accused one of my staff members of stealing her iPod, I ran a key report and viewed security camera footage, then called her back to ask if she had checked with the stream of visitors to her room late that night. I didn’t hear back. Store your valuables in the safe.

An eye for an eye. In today’s economy, hotels aren’t particularly enthusiastic about doling out freebies if we’re not at fault. If we messed up, however, the matter should be resolved to your satisfaction. If you feel you deserve compensation, be candid—otherwise you might get a fruit basket. But be reasonable. If you want a large cash payout, you’d better be missing a limb. If you invent or exaggerate a story to get free stuff, you might get it, but you’ll probably end up in hell.  

Complain up. If the issue arises after checkout, send an email to the manager, who can copy it to other departments and, theoretically at least, resolve the matter quickly. If you’re not satisfied, forward the message to hotel ownership or the management company; these individuals loathe complaints and will get to the bottom of things fast. You can also dispute erroneous charges with your credit card company.

Bad things happen, even at the best hotels. The true test lies in how staff members respond. If an issue is expertly handled, a little praise goes a long way. At times it may seem otherwise, but we’re in this business because we love to please. Enjoy your stay.

Click here for the perspective of a really cranky traveler. I hope this guy never corners me at a cocktail party.

Ouch. The comment was a reference to my James Bond namesake and my secondary career as a mystery novelist, but nonetheless I was baffled by it, having no recollection of any guest encounter that would have provoked a public cry for my dismissal. Since the review was anonymous, we had no way of contacting the guest to find out what went wrong. Because it was a personal attack that offered little useful information, we asked TripAdvisor to remove it. But they refused, and it remains there today. Sometimes we hoteliers have to set aside our professionalism and say, “Whatever”.

In my last post I wrote about online travel reviews from a hotelier’s perspective. This time I take off my hotelier’s hat to poke some fun at online reviews from a traveler’s perspective.

When planning trips, I always check out amateur reviews for a refreshing, grassroots alternative to the salesy propaganda on hotel websites. Yet as these sites grow in popularity the process has become increasingly time-consuming and confusing. The playing field is now so cluttered, the reviews so contradictory and polarized, it’s hard to know who to believe anymore.

And whereas the vast majority of reviews are benevolent and seemingly authentic, a few reviewer types have emerged whose advice should be taken with a healthy dose of skepticism. In the spirit of parody, here are a few to watch out for.

The Self-Appointed Expert. This reviewer has posted scores of reviews, yet quite possibly has never left his computer room. An aspiring travel memoirist, he writes lengthy, flowery missives colored with acid-tongued remarks like, “To call this a fleabag hotel would be an insult to fleas and bags everywhere.” Although he positions himself as a martyr to the travel community, he wouldn’t object if a hotel offered him a free stay in exchange for a glowing review.

The Patron Saint of Hotels. This reviewer is so over-the-top in her praise either she’s never had a vacation before or she’s been into the sacred wine. She rates all services as excellent, including those the hotel doesn’t offer, and uses exalted phrases like “A hidden gem!”, “Glorious!” and “I thought I’d died and gone to heaven!” Because she insists on seeing the good in everyone, she often finds herself making excuses on behalf of a hotel, such as, “My niece fell down the elevator shaft, but I’m sure they’ve gotten that fixed.”

The Up-trader. Having scoured the internet for deals until he scored a five-star hotel at a two-star rate, this bargain-hunter now expects all other services to be equally discounted. He expresses moral outrage over charges for breakfast, telephone and the mini-bar, accusing the hotel of gouging. His comments are revealing: “$28 for parking!?! That’s how much I usually pay for a room! Rip OFF!”

The Down-trader. This high-flying business traveler used to spend lavishly on luxury hotels until the economic crisis forced a drastic reduction in her expense account. Now obliged to stay in budget properties, she lives in denial, complaining bitterly about the lack of a day spa, fur boutique and gourmet restaurant at her roadside motel.

The Uncle Bob. Like that dull relative who subjects you to endless vacation photos and anecdotes, this reviewer goes on and on but never manages to say anything helpful or interesting. “My room had a bed and a desk and a chair. Oh, and a painting of a landscape. Molly at the front desk—or was it Maggie? Well, whoever it was, gosh darn was she swell when we needed directions to the local IHOP…” Next.

The Extortionist. After a series of mishaps, all of which were his own fault, this traveler tried every trick in the book to weasel a comp stay from the hotel, and now resorts to posting a blistering online review. He rates everything as terrible, including things that were perfectly fine. His reviews read like ransom notes, with bad spelling and grammar, excess punctuation, and random capital letters: “This hOtel SUKCED!! RobeRto the Duty manger?%? was LaiMe…!!!!!”

The Shill. This reviewer writes in a style that sounds suspiciously like the hotel’s promo material, with phrases only marketing people use, like “nestled in the heart of vibrant old-town” and “well-appointed furnishings with dreamy Celestial Comfort™ beds”. Her review contrasts sharply with the other, not-so-generous reviews and is typically a one-off. Although she signs off with a cutesy pseudonym like “TravlinGrrrl”, she’s undoubtedly the hotel’s director of marketing.

The Forensic Examiner. This CSI enthusiast treats hotel rooms like a crime scene, posting reviews with gory photographic evidence of carpet stains, bathroom mold and bedbug bites. Even when his review is glowing, his photos make the room look cheap and squalid, particularly when personal items and family members are in the background.

The Corporate Saboteur. This reviewer is a hotel owner writing a nasty, bogus review of a competitor hotel in hopes of boosting his own property’s ratings. Telltale signs include anonymity and remarks like, “I finally checked outta that dump and went to the ABC HOTEL. Twenty bucks cheaper and free donuts! I’ll never stay anywhere else!”

As a rule I bypass extreme reviews—unless there are a lot, in which case I take heed. I also skip reviews with the word “lame”, the online word of choice for people with a chip their shoulder. I find the hotel’s overall ranking to be helpful, but it doesn’t always tell the real story. Pull up your home city on TripAdvisor. Do you agree with the top five hotels? There’s always at least one that raises an eyebrow.

Recognizing that not every reviewer has the interests of fellow travelers in mind, Expedia, Orbitz and Priceline restrict reviews to customers only, whereas anyone can post a review on TripAdvisor, Yelp, Yahoo and Travelocity. TripAdvisor has been known to post a warning to travelers if it questions the authenticity of reviews, but this practice has attracted a flurry of criticism in the blogosphere.

There’s no question, online reviews are a great resource, providing insight, humor and tried-and-true tips from the field. Yet travelers shouldn’t forget to consult the experts in print and online guidebooks, newspapers and magazines. If I find a lump on my throat, I’m heading to a doctor for treatment, not to some online quack who claims to be able to show me how to remove the lump from home.

We can all help increase the reliability of reviews by posting our own after our trips. Just remember to stick to the facts, play fair, and go easy on the punctuation. And try not to get too personal. It might not always seem evident, but hotel managers have feelings too.

Travelers beware. A similar trend started about a decade ago, after word got out that boutique hotels were more profitable than other hotels. Suddenly hotels large and small were calling themselves boutique. But then a number of players tarnished the boutique reputation by emphasizing style over comfort and hiring mannequins for staff. When the big hotel chains got into the action, the boutique reputation suffered even further. Soon hotels couldn’t distance themselves quickly enough from the contemporary boutique moniker. A new buzzword was needed, and along came the next generation of boutique hotels: the lifestyle hotel.

What exactly is a lifestyle hotel? No one really knows. Essentially, a lifestyle hotel offers services and amenities that cater to a demographic with shared tastes, income levels, habits, attitudes and/or values. As a traveler, no longer are you obliged to leave your lifestyle preferences at home while on the road. If you can’t bear to put Muffy the teacup poodle in a kennel, you can bring her along, and your hotel might even offer special meals, a spa and Pilates classes for canines. Whether you’re a vegan environmentalist, a Crackberry-addicted techno-geek or a yoga-loving lesbian, there’s bound to be a lifestyle hotel for you. But don’t call it a theme hotel; themes are for amusement parks and kids. This is sophisticated stuff.

This time the chains are leading the charge. Starwood has Element and Aloft; Marriott has Edition; Hyatt has Andaz; Intercontinental has Indigo; the list goes on. In many ways lifestyle hotels are a great fit for the chains. Whereas boutique hotels tend to be high-priced, exclusive and urban, lifestyle hotels tend to be more reasonably priced, inclusive and accessible, located in secondary markets like small cities and suburbs.

The biggest challenge for the chains is fulfilling the promise of lifestyle hotels to keep current with traveler preferences. This can be exhausting—and expensive. Running a traditional hotel is far easier; you can maintain the same décor, employees and services for decades and pass them off as old-world charm. By nature the chains are slower to react because they have a lot of players to please. Let’s take a fictional chain, Guilty Pleasures Hotels & Resorts, for example, and say they’ve decided to roll out a signature scent. Hotel scents, a questionable trend in my mind—when I travel all I want to smell is lemon-scented disinfectant—are intended to round out the multi-sensory experience while subtly signaling to guests that they have arrived at their preferred hotel, they will never stay anywhere else, and they will spend lots of money.

Corporate office eventually settles on a scent that combines hints of jasmine, apple pie, whisky, opium and hundred-dollar bills. They dispatch samples to member properties and, of course, everyone hates it, particularly the manager of the Riyadh, Saudi Arabia property, where whisky is forbidden. He suggests oil as an alternative, which offends the manager of the chain’s eco resort in Montana. The debate goes on for months, until corporate office issues a decree that all hotels must use the scent or face expulsion. By then, however, travelers tastes have changed, and hotel scents have been found to be directly responsible for global warming.

When I joined Opus Hotel’s opening team in 2001, I came from a traditional hotel background and had no clue how to market a contemporary boutique hotel. Fortunately, by then a number of boutique hotels in other cities had gotten things terribly wrong, and I was able to learn from their mistakes. I wrote a manifesto for staff that specified the vocabulary we used to describe the hotel. Words like hip, sexy, cool and trendy were banned. If you use these words to describe yourself, you just aren’t.

Back then, all we had to work with were a few design boards, a chaotic construction site, and the ownership’s vision, which encompassed three key words: fresh, warm and sensual. From this we developed our mission statement and values and recruited a management team with classic luxury training who were entrepreneurial enough to adapt to a contemporary boutique environment. Today freshness, warmth and sensuality pervades every aspect of Opus, evoking not only the lifestyle preferences of our guests but the hotel’s soul.

Soul? Soul is an essential part of any hotel, and of lifestyle hotels in particular. It is everything abstract: personality, culture and spirit, that intangible feeling that prompts a guest to remark either “It just felt right” or “Something was missing.” Soul is often overlooked by hotel executives because we can’t see it, write it into an operating manual or charge a fee for it. Some hotels have all the right elements in place—beautiful design, quality amenities, competent service—but feel like the other definition of soul: the spirit of a dead person. Soul cannot be factory-produced or mass-marketed; more than anything it’s shaped by employees. By defining the hotel’s vision and values and using them to guide every decision, management develops the hotel’s culture and, over time, its soul evolves organically.

Will lifestyle hotels endure or be relegated to the garbage heap of overused and abused travel trends? Only time will tell. Regardless, given the stresses of our troubled economy and the headaches of modern travel, the timing couldn’t be better for a boom in hotels that contribute to travelers’ wellbeing by catering to lifestyle preferences.

Take the Lifestyle Concierge quiz and find out which of Opus Hotel’s five lifestyle-inspired décor schemes match your personality.