According to Jezebel, there’s “a new trend of hotels creating rooms that are just for women.” Oh Lord, why?! A hotel room designed to appeal to women apparently contains “fresh flowers, women’s magazines and size-appropriate slippers and robes and female staff members who are escorts at check-in.” At Vancouver’s Georgian Court Hotel, “the rooms are equipped with flat irons, yoga mats and beauty products.”
Please, if I’m escaping to a hotel, it’s not to masturbate by myself after an intense few minutes in downward dog. It’s to have sex with a man on sheets I don’t have to wash.
Now, before anyone decides to leave a comment admonishing me for my sluttery (again), most of the sex I’ve had in hotel rooms was during my now-defunct marriage. I’m pretty sure my daughter was conceived in a hotel room in London. But I do find hotel rooms to be the perfect location for a one-night stand. I want to see what’s in your pants, not in your pantry.
I love hotels. LOVE them. I don’t care if you’re talking about The Days Inn or The Four Seasons. I think there’s nothing greater than the feel of those squishy hotel pillows, those somehow-magically-softer-than-mine sheets — and, in very fine hotels — the billowy, satiny down comforters. I don’t mind a pastel-y hotel room. I’ve stayed at a few frilly, shabby chic B&Bs in my day. But the type of hotel room I love most looks more like a conference room with a bed in it. A sturdy, plain, wooden desk, a bar, two bedside tables. Lots of brown. Simple. Masculine.
I don’t see how this feminization of the hotel room is any different than the annoying pink Lego set and the pink aisles in Target and the “girls are dumb” t-shirts and everything else that has been marketed to women in the last few years. Why are fresh-cut flowers a women-only thing? What human being doesn’t like a nice bouquet? And who wants to throw a used condom in a wastebasket that looks like this?