Booking a hotel room for a steamy Valentine’s romp is a tradition as old as time. But while there’s a whole world of perfectly fine and incredibly luxurious rooms available, doesn’t it sometimes feel a bit clinical? There’s something unsexy about the state of modern interiors. Thankfully, Baron Books is reissuing Kyoichi Tsuzuki’s photo book Love Hotels, which offers a rich source of inspiration.

Originally published in 2001 in Street Design File vol.17, the series documents the maximalist design choices of Japanese love hotels, which have been slowly disappearing over time. It started when a few young editors from an architecture magazine asked Tsuzuki to collaborate on a project. After pitching the subject of love hotels, they ghosted him, prompting him to produce the idea himself. 

“High-resolution digital cameras didn’t exist back then, so I used a large format 4x5 camera,” Tusuzki recalls. “I remember the struggles fondly now, like preparing huge black cloth curtains to deal with rooms where entire walls were mirrored, then sticking the lens through a hole cut in the centre to shoot.” Without the convenience of Google imagery or social media to reference what these rooms looked like, Tsuzuki would “endlessly walk around hotel districts, find rooms that looked interesting from the photo panels displayed at the entrance, and then negotiate with the hotel”. He would repeat this process over and over.

“The Japanese somehow demonstrate world-class originality when it comes to eroticism,” Tsuzuki suggests. “From soaplands to image clubs and delivery health services, high-tech adult toys, manga, and adult magazines, there’s a creative spirit that draws global attention – and the ultimate expression of erotic interior design lies in love hotels.” While spaces dedicated to sex exist elsewhere in the world, there’s something incredibly Japanese about the maximalist facilities that “wildly deviate from their original purpose as places for brief sexual encounters” – circular rotating beds, transparent bathtubs and swings with multiple uses. “Craft perfectly fulfils the required function while art ventures into the realm of the unnecessary and meaningless - exceeding those requirements.” 

“I’m often interviewed about Showa retro design,” says Tsuzuki, reflecting on this kitsch aesthetic of Japanese design, which encompasses design styles from Art Deco and Modernism to the bubble era. “Showa spans over 60 years, from 1926, before World War II, to 1989, but now what’s considered most ‘Showa-esque’ is probably evoked by the image of the 1960s to 1980s.” 

“I was born in 1956, so I grew up squarely in that era, but for today’s 20 and 30-somethings, ‘Showa-esque’ might be more of a fantasy image than a reality,” he says. Guilty as charged. There’s a burgeoning interest in alternative retro design choices among younger generations. You may have seen married couple Margaret and Corey Bienert explore Americana-themed hotel rooms on the Pretty Cool Hotel Tour Instagram account, and use this research to design their own home. Merch Motel actively designs merchandise based on kitsch signage and retro architecture; their vintage-inspired clown embroidered cap recently featured in Rachel Sennott’s I Love LA. Both of these are American examples, but Japan was the true originator. “Retro-designed love hotels seem to be chosen more often by young people seeking Instagram-worthy rooms than by older patrons," says Tsuzuki.

Despite this renewed interest, these playful rooms are rapidly disappearing, with nearly 100 love hotels closing down each year. “It’s fair to say they face extinction,” Tsuzuki acknowledges. Rather than a preference for minimalist aesthetics, their decline has far more to do with legislation, as is the case with most sex-related industries. “The primary culprit is the enforcement of the New Adult Entertainment Business Law,” Tsuzuki.  Under this law, love hotels are classified as a form of adult entertainment, rather than hospitality, on the basis that lodging is not their primary purpose.

“Being classified as an adult entertainment business means they can only operate in designated zones permitted for such businesses,” Tsuzuki explains. Regrettably, this leaves some businesses with no choice but to change their name or entirely remodel into a generic city hotel. Perhaps the Gen Z sex recession is due to the declining rate of vibes. “Akin to tracking nearly extinct animals, I began photographing love hotels which still feature old-fashioned interiors,” he explains. Reiterating the importance of documenting these spaces, Tsuzuki convinced the owners to let him preserve their designs. “Every hotel responded more favourably than I could have imagined; the owners’ love for the interiors, and their sense of regret were extraordinary.” 

There are still around 5,000 love hotels in service, mostly in the Tokyo districts of Shinjuku, Shibuya, Ueno, and Kinshicho, or dotted around suburban highways generally only accessible via car. “Walking through the love hotel districts of major cities and choosing one based on the photo panels at the entrance remains the most convenient and enjoyable way to experience them,” Tsuzuki suggests.

Though many of the hotels featured in the book have already reached their demise or undergone a normie makeover, Hotel Fuki in Osaka largely remains the same. Tsuzuki recommends the SARA Group, which operates from various Tokyo locations, for a new style of love hotel where each room is designed with a different theme. Safe travels and happy love-making! 

Kyoichi Tsuzuki’s Love Hotels is published by Baron and is available to pre-order now.