When guests cross the line
Bathrobes are the most commonly stolen item in hotels worldwide, and towels come a close second—indeed, in one Europe-wide survey of hotel managers, nearly eight in 10 said towels go missing—but unlike toiletries, these items are designed to be reused hundreds of times. A single robe can cost a hotel well over $100 to replace, or more if it’s bespoke or branded. Towels, pillows, and bed linen aren’t cheap either, particularly at luxury properties using high-spec cotton or custom embroidery.
“We know the Dyson hairdryer was there when you checked in, and we know that you took the bathrobe,” Golden says. The response is rarely confrontational, but more often a carefully worded follow-up offering the chance to return the item or pay for it. Karen Irving, general manager of Linthwaite House in the UK, notes that when items do disappear, many hotels simply swallow the cost rather than confront the guest. “We tend to absorb it,” she says. “It’s rare enough that it’s not worth turning a stay into a negative memory.”
Luxury travel advisor Duncan Greenfield-Turk, who spent two decades working with top-tier hotels, is more blunt: “You can’t take the bathrobe, you can’t take the bed linen, you can’t take the kettle.” You’re paying for the stay, he adds, not the physical assets. “We don’t live in a society where we walk into a supermarket and walk out and not pay for it.”
The strange psychology of hotel theft
Guests who would never dream of stealing from a shop will happily slip a bathrobe into their suitcase, but according to clinical psychologist Kate Mason, it’s rarely about the money or the cost. “Sometimes it’s just about wanting to get your money’s worth,” Mason explains. When a stay is expensive, she says, guests can feel a subconscious urge to rebalance the scales. But it’s an impulse that can quickly blend into something more emotional.
“A robe feels like part of the experience,” she says. “Taking it can feel more like keeping a souvenir than committing a crime.” Unlike shoplifting, which is clearly transactional and morally coded, hotel theft exists in a fuzzier psychological space. The room feels semi-private, and the objects feel temporarily yours.
Mason also points out that hotels are perceived as large, corporate entities. “There’s often a sense that the hotel won’t miss it,” she says, even though, operationally, they absolutely do. Losses accumulate quietly, one robe at a time, until they become a real cost.