Dear Las Vegas
Sommelier Kat Thomas' letter to the Las Vegas hospitality community
Illustration: Rachel Krohn
To My Fellow Hospitality Humans of Las Vegas,
Las Vegas is still wet cement. Not marble. Not a manicured lawn with decades of footprints already pressed into place. Wet cement that is hot, imperfect, setting in real time under the hot desert sun. Which means we are not just participating in this industry, we are shaping it.
When I first moved here to open the Bellagio, it felt like stepping into a hospitality fairytale. The scale was grand, yes, but what struck me most was the reverence. Hospitality was treated as something sacred. It was about the team, the guests, the craft. It wasn’t driven by quarterly panic or shareholder optics. It was about excellence, about standards, and about creating an experience so seamless that guests felt transported simply by walking through the door. Hospitality was everything. That foundation shaped how I see this city and this industry.
Over the years, Las Vegas has changed. We’ve seen consolidation, tighter margins, and the constant tension between artistry and profitability. As corporate ownership has expanded, there are moments when the balance between financial performance and true guest care feels misaligned. We’ve also seen a rise in restaurants that command high price points but don’t always deliver on the fundamentals they promise: thoughtful service, consistency, genuine warmth. Alongside that, some of the standards that once defined this city—pride in craft, attention to detail, and deep responsibility to both team and guest—have softened in certain spaces.
And yet, I don’t see a decline. I see a turning point. We are no longer simply building big. We are building thoughtfully. Sommeliers are telling stories instead of selling labels. Chefs collaborate more than they compete. Operators are prioritizing culture over chaos. Bartenders give the same respect to a zero-proof cocktail as they do to a rare allocation.
Perhaps most importantly, we are asking better questions. How do we care for our teams? How do we build something sustainable? How do we leave this industry better than we found it?
The pandemic forced those questions into the open. It exposed burnout, broken systems, and the myth that adrenaline alone could sustain a career in hospitality. Some people left the industry, some folks rebuilt, and others reimagined what hospitality might look like if it were rooted in values instead of velocity.
What has emerged is a Las Vegas hospitality community that feels more connected, more self-aware, and more courageous. Outsiders often see only the neon and spectacle. But we see something else entirely: farmers, purveyors, cellar teams, dishwashers, line cooks, servers, hosts—an entire ecosystem of people creating moments that matter. We are no longer trying to prove we belong on someone else’s stage. We are pouring our own foundation.
Las Vegas hospitality is still forming. Still setting. Still becoming. The imprint we leave right now will shape the culture that follows. Leadership matters. Mentorship matters. Standards matter. The way we treat our teams when the dining room is full and the tickets won’t stop printing—that matters. Protect your standards, but evolve your systems. Train your teams not just in technique, but in confidence. Teach them why the farm matters, why the winemaker matters, why the guest matters, and remind them that their well-being matters just as much.
Hospitality cannot thrive on adrenaline alone. There is room in this city for ambition and generosity at the same table, and most importantly, there’s room for joy. Joy is the clink of glasses after a long shift. The regular who trusts you implicitly. The moment a guest tastes something new and their eyes light up. The team that stays late to polish and reset, yet still laughs walking out into the desert night.
Las Vegas hospitality is entering a new era—one that still knows how to shine, but now leads with discernment, diversity, and depth.
The cement is still soft. Let’s build something worthy of the pour.
So step boldly. Be kind. Be present.
To your health, your wealth, and your prosperity,
—Kat Thomas, Ada’s | Sommelier (Wine Goddess)
