My eyes bulged forth from my skull as I gawked with sheer incredulity at the price of a roll of wallpaper.
For the sake of propriety, I have omitted the multiple expletives that I also used. Needless to say, I was utterly shocked, and frankly slightly disgusted. There is this feeling that sets in every time someone asks me to open my wallet for something that one would not necessarily deem essential for the business, especially in the current economy. It starts as a low bubble of nausea deep in the pit of my stomach and spreads throughout my entire body, slowly consuming my soul with the caress of sheer terror.
But I bought it. In fact, I bought three rolls of this damned wallpaper. And it looks absolutely, unequivocally, and in no uncertain terms, fantastic!
Glaringly obvious
Have I gone mad you may ask? Am I going to start wearing garish flocked silk suits and sport a Charles I hairstyle like the effusive interior maestro himself, Laurence Llewleyn Bowen? Fear not reader, I haven’t totally lost it. Not yet anyway. But Queen of Cups needed a facelift, and I can say with complete certainty it has been worth it.
Over the past year, there has been an emerging trend in my daily feedback emails. Customers adore the food. It is bright, exuberant, lavish and joyous; all the things a chef-patron wants to hear. However, it became glaringly obvious there was a stark contrast between the food and the setting.
Phrases like “needs a facelift” or “tired”, kept cropping up. The charm of a 17th century coaching inn was starting to fade away and look worn around the edges. Not in a rustic charm kind of way but in a slightly sad kind of way.
It was very apparent we needed to renovate. A terrifying concept when every penny needs to be accounted for, especially in light of the recent Budget.
I am so glad I did though. No longer do I walk through the front door and feel a sense of disappointment. The bar is backlit and inviting with a languid, sultry glow, the tabletops are awash with Middle Eastern geometric patterns, the wallpaper is flocked and opulent, and I cannot help but stroke it every time I walk past. (And for the amount I paid for it, I am going to continue to do this!)
Unanimously positive
The feedback has been unanimously positive. New guests and returning ones alike compliment the décor regularly now.
The psychology of hospitality goes far beyond what is on the plate or what is in the glass. It is a multisensory experience and can be defined as a science in and of itself. From the moment the customer arrives, they are being influenced by every sense; the music playing in the background, the comfort of the bar stool, the shape of the plate, the thickness of the wine glass stem.
Every element affects the guest and their perception of the establishment. This, in turn, also effects their spending. I am far more likely to order the Premier Cru Chablis when I’m sinking into a plush velvet chair. No one, aside from tortured poets, are drinking Château Pétrus in a hovel. The Perfect Meal: a multisensory science of food and dining by Charles Spence & Betina Piqueras-Fiszman is a fascinating read and goes into the topic in far more depth than I have the space to here.
Psychology and science aside, finally my plates match my walls – and I couldn’t be happier.
