There was a time – not so long ago, though it already feels sepia-tinted – when London was the sort of place that tourists arrived in with stars in their eyes and left with shopping bags cutting off circulation at the fingers.
Harrods bags, Selfridges bags, Mulberry bags, the bright yellow of Fortnum’s peeking out of a suitcase being sat on in a hotel lobby. Europe’s favourite grown-up playground; Manhattan’s chic transatlantic sibling; Tokyo’s idea of European swagger with better tailoring and more chaotic restaurants.
And somehow, somewhere between the end of the pandemic and the beginning of whatever this new national habit of self-sabotage is, we decided that this was all terribly inconvenient.
Because now, instead of rolling out the red carpet to high-spending visitors who fund vast swathes of our hospitality and retail industries, we appear determined to trip them up with a series of policy banana skins. A kind of bureaucratic Mario Kart, except instead of cartoon plumbers skidding off Rainbow Road, it’s Andrea Baldo at Mulberry watching millions evaporate from his London tills.
First came the abolition of tax-free shopping, what the press politely calls the “tourist tax”, but business leaders now refer to in much the same tone one reserves for a wasp nest in the loft. It was, in the gentle phrasing of one retail boss, a “massive global disadvantage”. He’s not wrong. France woos Chinese visitors with instant VAT refunds at Charles de Gaulle, Italy practically hands tourists a Prosecco as they process theirs. Meanwhile, we greet them with the fiscal equivalent of a traffic warden in a foul mood.
Retail chiefs have been patient – or at least, as patient as you can be when pointing out, month after month, that the maths simply does not work. Tourists want the thrill of a VAT-free splurge. If we don’t offer it, they simply go elsewhere. Hence the growing chorus from the likes of Mulberry’s Baldo, who has watched London sales tank while Paris boutiques hum along nicely. It doesn’t take a PwC report to see what’s happening: shoppers follow value, and value has emigrated.
You might think the lesson here is obvious. If you want tourists, the big-spending sort who treat a long weekend as an Olympic sport, then don’t whack them with a levy the moment they land. You’d imagine, perhaps naively, that the next step would be to reverse the damage, or at least stop adding new obstacles.
But no. This is London. And in London, when there’s an opportunity to make a bad idea worse, we seize it with both hands and a press release.
Step forward Sadiq Khan, announcing with great flourish the potential introduction of a second tourist tax – a nightly levy on hotel stays that would, we are told, “supercharge London’s economy”. Which is an interesting definition of “supercharge”, unless we’ve started using the word to mean “ask people for more money so they spend less of it elsewhere”.
This proposed hotel levy, trumpeted as bringing the capital in line with other global cities, is the second punch in a one-two assault that the hospitality sector absolutely did not ask for. Because let’s be clear: London is not Barcelona, drowning in stag dos stripping in fountains. Nor is it Amsterdam, declaring war on the Hen Party Industrial Complex. London’s issue is not too many tourists — it’s that we are making ourselves unattractive to the ones we need.
Which is why the hospitality sector is looking a bit like a boxer in the 11th round, wobbling slightly, blood in the eye, muttering “Really? Another one?”
Hotels have only just crawled out of the Covid crater. Staffing costs up. Energy bills up. Supply chain madness. Then a visitor economy still recovering from the years when the only people checking into hotels were essential workers and couples pretending they were “working from home”. Revenues are fragile. Margins are thin. And now a city-hall-branded surcharge?
The timing is astonishing. Just as business travellers, the holy grail of midweek occupancy, begin to return… just as American tourists rediscover the joys of London theatre and pubs with carpets… just as Asia resumes sending coachloads of shoppers armed with Amex and enthusiasm… we decide to hand them a bill for having turned up at all.
What message does this send? The same as the VAT-refund fiasco: London is becoming the most expensive city in Europe to visit, and the least rewarding.
It is fundamentally a failure of imagination. Instead of asking “How do we compete?”, policymakers seem content to ask, “How much can we get away with before someone books Berlin instead?”
The answer, increasingly, is: not much.
Because tourists talk. They compare. They calculate. And when your long-haul holiday already costs thousands, and the pound is weak, and hotels are pricier than ever, that extra nightly charge isn’t symbolic – it’s irritating. Add in the lack of VAT refunds and suddenly a weekend that once felt like a treat becomes an exercise in fiscal masochism.
All this might be palatable if the revenue raised were earmarked for something dazzling — a transport revolution, a cultural renaissance, a hospitality uplift so extraordinary that visitors would queue to pay. But the rhetoric is vague, the benefits theoretical, and the impact on the ground immediate.
The truth is brutally simple: London thrives when it is welcoming, frictionless, rewarding and – crucially – competitive. What we have instead is a creeping perception that our leaders view tourists not as valued guests, but as walking wallets from which to extract just a bit more because, well, they can.
The hospitality and retail sectors don’t need another tax. They need policymakers who understand that the visitor economy is not a tap that can be turned on and off at whim. It is delicate, reactive, easily diverted.
Right now, we are steering it away.
London doesn’t need a second tourist tax. It needs a second thought.
Read more:
Is the government intent on killing London’s hospitality sector with a double-whammy tourist tax?
