Repeat after me: Experience is not expertise. Your average watch collector doesn’t presume that a cabinet full of high-end timepieces makes him a watchmaker any more than automotive enthusiasts believe that piloting a Ferrari Enzo or a Pagani Utopia in the garage makes them a car designer. But it seems that it’s much more tempting to turn a lifetime of luxury hotel-hopping into self-proclaimed know-how.
There’s nothing wrong with speculating on a hospitality property, just as one would on any other real-estate investment. on New York City’s Central Park, for example, came up for sale earlier this year, with the 250-room property valued at approximately $400 million; investing in such a thriving business is an easy decision. But there’s a veritable chasm between being rich enough to buy a hotel and being savvy enough to run one.
If only every owner recognized that. This is an issue I’m increasingly seeing at five-star properties around the world—places with so much potential to impress, each falling short for the same reason: a bad case of owner-itis, an emerging condition whereby the deep-pocketed get in deep with the day-to-day. Take one Mediterranean hideaway that I was desperate to love, a cluster of exquisitely designed villas on one of the most exclusive islands in the region.
“I’ve been open two years, and I’ve already gone through four general managers,” the owner sniffed over cocktails during my first night. “You can’t get staff who will do w.