Many luxury hotels look expensive, but very few feel memorable. What's harder to create today: luxury or atmosphere?

It really depends on the setting, and every context comes with its own opportunities and constraints. In adaptive reuse or renovation projects, atmosphere comes more naturally because there's often an inherent authenticity already in place, something we can build on.

We try to develop a narrative that guides each project. While it can be more challenging to instil that same authenticity in a new build, it's a challenge we embrace and enjoy.

On the other hand, creating a sense of luxury can be more straightforward in a new build, where there is a true blank slate. The ability to shape the layout allows for a more intentional, sensory-driven approach to luxury: high-quality materials and finishes, well-placed lighting and an organic flow of space. In existing buildings, we sometimes face constraints imposed by the conditions already in place, but that's a challenge we welcome, too. More often than not, these constraints have led to memorable solutions.

After decades of designing hotels, are there contemporary hospitality trends you suspect are already becoming dated?

Not dated exactly, but I do think the instinct to include a wellness component could be more considered and clearly defined. Wellness should be thoughtfully tailored to the guest, not simply included to check a box. I'd like to see these offerings become more intentional and responsive to users.

More broadly, the most successful hotels aren't the ones chasing what's new; they're the ones with a clear sense of place and a genuine understanding of how guests want to spend their time in that location. Those fundamentals have remained remarkably consistent throughout my career, even as the industry continues to evolve.

Projects like the TWA Hotel, The Ned NoMad, Warren Street Hotel and Raffles Boston feel radically different from one another. What's the invisible thread that connects a successful hotel project today?

They're all different because they should be. Every hotel should respond to its context. We sometimes think of ourselves as social engineers, responding to the convergence of location and story, and to the need to craft an experience that extends from large-scale planning down to the smallest detail.

It helps that we've always approached hospitality as an integrated architecture and interiors practice, so we study the entire guest journey. At the TWA Hotel, for example, the majority of guests are there for a short stay, sometimes only part of the day between flights.

When we designed the rooms, we didn't use up space with a traditional wardrobe. Instead, we tailored the design to the guest by incorporating well-placed hooks and using the extra space for a beautifully detailed minibar. It's a small decision, but it reflects a larger principle: understanding how people actually use a space should inform how it is designed.

Hotels today shape how cities are experienced. Do architects design spaces differently knowing that guests may spend more time in the lobby than in the city itself?

As check-ins become increasingly virtual, hotel lobbies and entrances as we know them are changing. Hotels are focusing instead on design-rich amenities and lounges that naturally become social hubs, where people work, meet friends, have a coffee or spend an hour between appointments.

Ground-floor retail, such as a restaurant or café, can also function as an amenity in its own right. In many ways, these spaces have become an extension of the neighbourhood, serving locals as well as guests. When a hotel becomes part of the local rhythm rather than remaining separate from it, that's when we're most proud of our work.