Every hotel review will come with the Beth Towel Rule as laid forth by a former colleague and friend with whom I have traveled many times over the years.
After checking into the Marriott Renaissance in San Francisco, a personal favorite of mine (for the location, the views, the proximity to the Fairmont Tiki Bar – say it with me: RAINSTORM), Beth and I met for a cocktail in the lobby and I asked her if she was good with my choice for our business trip.
She nodded. “It’s nice. Great location. Like the bar. And the view.”
I sensed hesitation. “What is it?”
She shrugged. “Towels suck.”
This floored me. “Wait. So the towels suck? So…the hotel sucks?”
“No no no. Hotel is great…except for the towels. They’re thin and slightly threadbare. Not a good towel experience.” She knocked back her pale ale. “In my opinion, a hotel can be five stars across the board, but if the towels are shit, I’m not giving my endorsement.”
And thus, the Beth Towel Rule was born.
You’ll see. It’s actually a dealbreaker.
Beth Towel Rule Rating Breakdown
- 0-2: Piss poor job, guys. Towels are thin, threadbare, offer little to no absorption, and are generally not worthy of whatever chi-chi hotel brand you’re laying down.
- 3-5: Meh. Like, they could be worse? I guess? But they’re still kind of chintzy? You have Moet in the mini-bar, chief. Why you gotta skimp on the bathware, huh? Add some chunky towelage to your baño, hombre.
- 6-8: Now we’re talking. You got stacks of soft towels for days. Maybe they’re a little on the…bleachy side? As in, I can smell that hygiene is important to you but it’s harshing my morning shower buzz. But you are definitely on the right track with the quality and amount. Nice effort!
- 9-10: Hell yes. You are killing it on your towel game. Plush, comfy, fresh, smelling like sunshine — stellar effort. Now let’s talk about the mini-bar because: no.