Here's a recent video from The Wall Street Journal talking about the "secrets behind hotel design." It's interesting in that it gets into some of the ways in which designers are shrinking hotel rooms and then making up for it with amenities. This is a strategy you'll find in many other real estate asset classes ranging from multi-family housing to co-living.
But if you scroll through the comments, you'll see that the responses are overwhelmingly negative. In fact, I was hard pressed to find any positive ones. Most people simply don't like the idea of hotel rooms shrinking and of not having the same amenities. This is not surprising. The comments are similar to what you'll hear people say about shrinking condominium suites.
At the end of the day, though, the strategy outlined in this video is designed to cater to a very specific market: young travelers (roughly 25 to 40 years old) who want to stay somewhere fun and social — and at a reasonable price. Room size is the lever that helps bring rates down. But it's not for everyone, and that's why hotel companies have so many different brands in their portfolio. It's so they can precisely target different customers and types of travel.
Speaking from personal experience, I can tell you that my wife and I have stayed in numerous hotels where the entire room was basically just the bed. Here's Tokyo from this past winter. And in one particular hotel in Paris, there wasn't even enough space for me to fully open my carry-on suitcase. If I wanted to open and close the window beside our bed, I had to first close my suitcase.
I'd happily stay there again. The place was well-designed, clean, had good bathroom products, was in a great location, and the pricing was reasonable, especially for Paris. As a hotel customer, I consistently value design and experience over square footage. And the market suggests that I'm not alone. Cool and reasonably priced is often a winning strategy no matter what industry you're in.

A branded residence is, as the name suggests, a residential building with a known branded attached to it. Historically, these have tended to be hotel brands. But it really just needs to be any brand that people know, care about, and will pay a premium for. So it could also be a fashion brand, a car brand, or whatever else.
This is a growing segment of the residential market. According to UK-based Savills, there were only 15 or so of these "schemes" in the 1990s (the UK uses scheme in lieu of project, which always sounds conniving to me), but by the end of this decade they expect the pipeline of branded residences to exceed over 1,200.
I would also argue that projects designed by celebrated architects and/or designers are a form of branded residence. And this is not being captured in Savills' number above.
Whatever your definition, today, the branded residence capital of the world seems to be Dubai, which feels right. And the biggest brands, by what appears to be a long shot, are Four Seasons and Ritz-Carlton (hotel side), and YOO and Trump (non-hotel side). Here are the full rankings from Savills:


This is an interesting part of the real estate business for a few reasons. One, it makes sense. A New Balance shoe that gets co-branded with Aimé Leon Dore unlocks additional value for both sides. ALD has a brand that certain people care about. So, of course the same would be true of real estate paired with the right brand.
Two, it's a growing market, and I think this is aided by the fact that development is an intensely local business -- so it can be hard to grow a globally-significant brand on your own. Sometimes you just need to borrow someone else's.
And three, it's usually a less risky approach to getting your name on buildings. Branded residences typically operate on a licensing model, which means developers pay for the right to use the brand. The brand may also capture some of the upside in the form of a percentage of sales. That's less risky than putting up your own money.

The prevailing view on short-term rentals right now seems to be this:

That is, it's viewed as a zero-sum game between residents and tourists. There are only so many homes within a city, and so if any of them are to turn into short-term rentals, then it is a direct reduction in the supply of available long-term homes. This can also happen very quickly given the asset-light nature of Airbnb and the fact that these spaces aren't usually purpose-built.
It is for this reason that many cities have enacted strict short-term rental laws that basically only allow you to rent out your principal residence when you're not around or if you happen to have extra space. In the case of New York, you have to be physically present when the dwelling is being rented, and so the use case is exclusively "I have extra space for you."
Either way, the basic idea is to stop people from removing homes from the long-term market. I do, however, find it curious that reductions in housing supply seem to be generally viewed as bad, but that increases in housing supply are often met with skepticism. Doesn't housing supply work in both directions? Why aren't more people clamouring for new homes to be built?
Where my head is at on this issue is that I don't see it as a zero-sum game. I believe that there should be rules and regulations around short-term rentals, but that they shouldn't stamp out all use cases other than "here's an air mattress in my living room." At the same time, I think we should be viewing this as an opportunity. Clearly we need more homes, more hotels, and more short-term rentals.
It's only zero-sum if we make it that way.