Earlier this summer I checked into a small coastal hotel and found something that, only a few years ago, would have felt surprising: two chilled glass bottles of water waiting in the room with a small note inviting me to refill them at a station down the hall. It wasn’t flashy, and the hotel didn’t make a big deal about it, but it immediately felt right. What struck me even more was the thought that if those bottles had been plastic, I would have noticed straight away, and probably judged the property for it. That small detail showed me how much the world has changed. In 2025, sustainability is no longer something that feels like an extra—it is something we simply expect.
Not long ago, eco-friendly gestures were met with applause. Guests posted photos of bamboo toothbrushes or towel reuse cards as if they were symbols of progress, and properties earned recognition for doing what seemed forward-thinking at the time. But that applause has faded. Now, when sustainability is present, most guests barely notice. When it is absent, however, they notice immediately, and they are quick to criticise. This change is more than just a feeling. Surveys show that around 73 percent of travelers now say that sustainable practices influence where they choose to book, and 41 percent even say they are willing to pay more for accommodations that show real environmental responsibility. At the same time, over 60 percent of travelers admit they are skeptical, unsure whether the sustainability practices they see are real or just marketing. Guests no longer reward effort for its own sake. They reward authenticity and integration, and they punish absence or clumsy execution.
The best way to understand this shift is to compare it with something everyone remembers: Wi-Fi. Back in 2008, hotels proudly advertised “Free Wi-Fi” as if it were a luxury. Today, it would be unthinkable for a property not to provide it, and charging for it would seem ridiculous. In the same way, sustainability has become the Wi-Fi of 2025. It is not what makes you stand out anymore; it is the entry ticket that allows you to compete at all. The difference now lies not in whether a property embraces sustainability but in how well it does so. A refillable glass water bottle that feels well designed is not the same as a clunky plastic one pretending to be sustainable. A menu that changes with the rhythm of local harvests is more compelling than one that simply highlights a token “local dish.” A zero-plastic policy that extends through packaging, amenities, and even staff operations feels complete, while a partial one feels hollow.
The truth is that falling behind in this area now carries real consequences. Guests do not just take note silently—they share their observations online. A single photo of wasteful packaging or plastic-wrapped fruit can undo months of careful branding. Where sustainability once earned applause, its absence now sparks backlash, and in a world where every traveler has a platform, that backlash spreads quickly. This is why it is no longer enough to treat sustainability as a collection of small gestures. The future lies in designing it into the guest experience in a way that feels natural, thoughtful, and even delightful.
This means moving from gestures to systems. A bamboo straw is a gesture, but redesigning your entire beverage program to eliminate single-use packaging is a system. It also means shifting from cost to craft. Sustainability framed as expense feels like a burden, but when approached creatively it elevates the experience, whether through handmade ceramic mugs, farm-to-table dining, or buildings that bring nature inside. And it means moving from backstage to frontstage. In the past, hotels focused on hidden efficiencies like LED bulbs or energy-efficient boilers. Today, guests want to see and participate in sustainability through things like edible gardens, refill stations, or transparent partnerships with local farmers and artisans.
One way to capture this is through what we might call “Elegant Integration.” This framework rests on three parts: invisible infrastructure, visible touchpoints, and a narrative arc. Invisible infrastructure covers the systems that guests never see but that define how responsibly a property operates, from energy use to waste reduction. Visible touchpoints are the small, daily interactions guests have with sustainability, like compostable menus or refillable bottles, that make it easy to participate without effort. And the narrative arc is the story that ties everything together, connecting each practice back to place, culture, and care so that sustainability does not feel like a bolt-on policy but rather a natural part of the guest experience. When done well, this integration doesn’t feel like sacrifice, it feels like care.
This shift is about more than just hotels. It reflects the way younger generations view trust and responsibility. Students, travelers, and children growing up today don’t clap when a company “goes green.” They expect it. What they admire instead is when it is done beautifully, seamlessly, and with integrity. In that sense, sustainability is no longer a differentiator.
So the challenge is clear. If your sustainability strategy still relies on gestures, you are already behind. The applause has moved on. The question for now is not whether a property is sustainable, but how deeply and how elegantly sustainability has been woven into the guest journey. Because soon, travelers will not be asking if you are sustainable. They will only be asking one thing, why aren’t you already?
