In Woodinvile, the Somm rooms feature vibrant wallpaper.
What if Alice’s fantastical Wonderland were reborn as a Marriott? It would look something like Woodinville’s new Somm Hotel, where the hallway between the lobby and bar is peppered with wooden mushroom statues the size of barstools. The weird continues; one seating area features bizarre sculptures, not far from a giant cutout of Sasquatch. He’s holding a wineglass. In the hotel rooms, patterns on the walls clash excitedly with patterns on the rugs, and the bathroom light fixtures feature hand-shaped sconces.
The lobby of the Somm, starring Sasquatch.
The aggressively whimsical, bold decor is, to put it mildly, a lot. But it’s also pretty normal these days. “Maximalist Decor Is Back” announced an Architectural Digest headline last December, but the idea—more on top of excess with a frosting of extra—has already taken firm hold on the hospitality sector.
Hotel rooms should strike a tricky balance: not too clinically impersonal, but not so specific as to feel like the guest room at your mad great-aunt’s house. But these days, the pendulum has swung hard to the mad great-aunt side of things. Prepare to be overwhelmed by the lobby.
The Louie is a sibling of Spokane’s Davenport Hotel.
Maximalist hotel design is not just bright colors, but it almost always starts there. When the Davenport Hotel group renovated its boutique property in Spokane last year, morphing it from the elegant Davenport Lusso to the Louie, it traded muted pastels for green walls and orange lampshades. Now it better matches its big brother across the street, the original 1914 Davenport Hotel; there, no brass curlicue is too ornate, no ceiling left without flourishes.
These days, I see it everywhere. In tiny Dayton, near Walla Walla, Hotel Hardware achieves maximalism on the micro scale in a hotel with only 15 rooms. One door replaces the knob with an outstretched metal hand. (Hands are everywhere—should we be thanking Thing from The Addams Family?). There’s a taxidermy bear here, a Stand by Me mural there, clashing eras and styles in a small space.
It all recalls the West Coast’s OG of quirk, the Madonna Inn in San Luis Obispo, California. Famous for its more than 100 kooky theme rooms, they include a rock chamber with cave-like walls and leopard-print pillows and a “chestnut foal” room with a carousel horse chandelier. The bonkers look was developed by owner Phyllis Madonna, a reflection of her personal whimsy; these days, idiosyncrasy has crept into the luxury space, usually wrought by a professional design firm not the impulses of a singular visionary.
San Diego's Lafayette Hotel, where the design is as memorable as the sunshine.
In San Diego, the Lafayette Hotel used Brooklyn’s Post Company in a major redesign that reopened the historic hotel in 2023. It starts with clashing patterns and goes from there—animal print, florals, stripes, and tassels, all on the same banquettes. I counted four different tile styles within a single bathroom stall. Above the lobby fireplace I could see large canvas paintings layered on top of each other, stacked like flyers stapled to a light pole.
Arsalun Tafazoli, founder of Lafayette owner CH Projects, likens the hotel to a mixtape, like the one he'd compile for a crush. He says he doesn't see how “hushed minimalism” could express everything; his own inspirations include David Lynch. “Good art should help you forget and take you out of your bullshit,” he says. “I want to articulate a perspective and there’s no way to do that without a lot of shit.”
The Lafayette Pool, which offers day passes to non-guests.
As I was sitting by the Lafayette Pool on a pink striped towel, under green striped awnings and animal print loungers, all the color left me teetering at the edge of overstimulation. Delighted by the design, I couldn’t stop snapping photos, but I also struggled to settle into my book.
Is maximalism back simply to match our ridiculously chaotic world? Is it the last, indulgent stage of a collapsing Rome? Maybe. But the reason may be simpler. The intense aesthetic looks good on social media—and it sticks out in the thumbnail photo of a booking website. It’s hard to convey the luxury of a buttery bed linen or a delicate room scent on the internet, but a striking piece of design instantly reads online.
Still, even if it’s wrought as part of a corporate branding plan, even when it feels crafted for the selfie, I’m thrilled by the rise of the madcap hotel. After a decade of Pendleton chic—you know, the converted motel with a vaguely outdoorsy vibe, striped wool blanket required—I’m ready for the rise in rich jewel tones. We don’t just travel to see fascinating new things, but to feel fascinating ourselves. At these maximalist hotels, for one night, we get to be someone who lives in a very interesting home.