The Purple Peril: When a Hotelier Took Gothic a Step Too Far

Ah, the start of summer in Ireland! A time when the hotels dust off the cobwebs (literal and figurative), polish the brass, and get ready for a fresh season of eager guests. This is a legendary story of one such hotelier, inspired by a sudden wave of gothic trends sweeping the design world, decided his establishment needed a bit of drama. And what better way to add a touch of mystery and sophistication than with a bold, regal purple?

It started innocently enough—one wall in the hall, a striking feature to make an impression. But sure, once you start, where do you stop? Before long, the grand transformation was in full swing. Purple paint crept from the lobby to the dining room, up the stairs, and into the very bedrooms themselves. Cushions and throw blankets soon followed suit, ensuring that no corner of the hotel was safe from his creative enthusiasm. But it was the towels that sealed his place in hospitality history.

Now, a proper renovation calls for fresh towels, but why go to the expense of replacing them when you can simply dye the existing ones to match the new look? Genius, right? Except, well, perhaps a test run would have been wise.

Enter the first guests of the season—a lively group from Australia, fresh off a long-haul flight, who were only too delighted to check in and freshen up before hitting the sights. They disappeared to their rooms, enjoyed a warm shower, and toweled off, none the wiser to the horror that awaited them.

An hour later, as they gathered in the lobby, the sight that met the staff was something that would be talked about for years to come. Half the group, glowing a majestic shade of purple, looked as though they’d been attacked by a rogue paintbrush in their sleep. The towels, rather than simply drying, had imparted their gothic hue onto the unsuspecting guests, leaving them resembling a squad of misplaced Oompa Loompas.

The laughter rang through the halls, and the apologies were as profuse as the pigment. But the damage was done, and word quickly spread. The Australians, being good sports, took it in their stride and embraced their new status as the Purple Pilgrims of Ireland.

Rumour has it they toured the country in their unexpected glow, baffling locals and leaving an indelible (and quite literal) mark on their Irish adventure. And as for the hotelier? Well, let’s just say he never touched a paintbrush again. Only a few know if fact ends and if fiction took over but one thing is for sure, 'only in Ireland' could one spot a group of Australian accented Oompa Loompas travelling on jaunting carts, snapping pictures as they tour through the Gap of Dunloe.