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As someone with a soft spot for old-school hotels, I knew I’d love the Marbella Club. Opened in 1954 by Madrid-born playboy Prince Alfonso von Hohenlohe, the seafront resort put Spain’s Costa del Sol on the jet set’s party circuit, drawing the likes of Audrey Hepburn, Sean Connery, and the Duke of Windsor (to name a few). Photos by Slim Aarons and other high-society shutterbugs offer glimpses into the resort’s rollicking heyday: poolside backgammon tournaments, black-tie balls, and more than one instance of a guest pulling up to a costume party on camelback.
Fast forward 70 years, and the Golden Age glamor lives on. My first night there, I dined at the hotel’s legendary Grill restaurant under a canopy of pines and the soft glow of candlelight. Waiters donning white jackets and bow ties darted around with trays of champagne while a band played hits by Julio Iglesias and Perry Como. Just as I was polishing off my chocolate mousse—one of the restaurant’s signature dishes, whose recipe dates back decades—a distinguished-looking gentleman at a nearby table pulled a crimson jewelry box out of his jacket pocket and surprised his date with a necklace dripping in precious stones, its glint lighting up the sky like a swarm of fireflies.
“Welcome to the Marbella Club, Mrs. Reid,” said my waiter as he swooped by my table to top off my champagne, giving me a wink as if to say, “Cariña, this happens all the time.”
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If it’s a crime to lean too heavily into nostalgia, the Marbella Club would be among the industry’s worst offenders. Like other mythical Mediterranean boltholes—Hôtel du Cap-Eden-Roc, Carlton Cannes, Le Sirenuse—the property can’t resist telling stories about its glittering past. But after checking in last month, I discovered that the current owners, London-based sibling duo Daniel Shamoon and Jennica Arazi, are just as concerned with steering the resort towards a bright, sustainable future.
Earlier this year, to coincide with the hotel’s 70th-anniversary celebrations, the Marbella Club unveiled its ambitious new extension, Finca Ana María: an adjacent 50,000-square meter “garden of sustainability,” which will gradually come to life over the next five years, doubling the property’s existing footprint. The finca occupies the former estate of the German countess Gunilla von Bismarck, the great-granddaughter of German chancellor Otto von Bismarck and a prominent figure in Marbella’s jet-set scene.
Any other hotel would’ve used the occasion as an excuse to stroll down memory lane, ringing in its anniversary by, say, christening a new hotel wing with rooms named after the influential von Bismarck family. Instead, the Shamoon siblings have imagined Finca Ana María as a vast green oasis, home to more than 300 species of plants and wedged between the sparkling waters of the Mediterranean and the iconic La Concha mountain. Not only is this green expansion—which is partly already open to the public—attracting a more diverse mix of travelers, for whom luxury isn’t just about thread count and designer beach pop-ups. It’s also setting a powerful example of responsible tourism in a region whose natural beauty has all too often been eclipsed by over-development.
To be sure, there are “built” aspects to the finca project. The von Bismarcks’ white-washed, Andalusian-style home has already been converted into a glamorous poolside restaurant, mere steps from a just-opened outdoor padel court. (In 1974, Prince Alfonso von Hohenlohe brought the sport to Spain, building two courts inspired by the ones he’d seen in Acapulco, Mexico.) There’s also a new hacienda-style structure, home to a “cabinet of curiosities” by French taxidermy establishment Deyrolle. There, guests can attend culinary and educational events and learn about the responsible documentation of rare insect species and coral fragments.
But Finca Ana María’s built environment is dwarfed by the property’s expanse of virgin, untamable nature. Walking around on a sunny morning, I could have been fooled into thinking I was in a nature preserve: there were no beach club beats or the clinking of Champagne coupes—just the chirping of birds, the crunch of the earth underfoot, and a salty sea breeze. Acclaimed French gardener Louis Albert de Broglie, aka Le Prince Jardinier, owner of Deyrolle, is working closely with the hotel’s director of sustainability and in-house landscaper to design 10 different natural areas, including a kitchen garden planted with more than 100 heritage tomato varieties, a natural maze of acacia trees, and a “storytelling tree” where younger guests can learn about biodiversity.
Wellness is also a focus. This summer, the finca hosted its second-annual San Juan Wellbeing Festival, with a lineup of guest-focused eco-activities such as a walking meditation through the garden and a vegetable table décor workshop with Loewe, which recently debuted a permanent storefront adjacent to Marbella Club’s entrance. The finca also encompasses an outdoor yoga platform, a wood-clad sauna with sea views, and a soon-to-open lookout tower for star-gazing and bird-watching.
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Elsewhere around Marbella, there’s plenty new to lure first-time and repeat visitors. I spent an afternoon popping into new and reborn hotels like La Fonda Heritage, METT Hotel Beach Resort, and La Zambra, which, in its previous incarnation as the Byblos Hotel, was supposedly Princess Diana’s favorite place to stay on the Costa del Sol. After, I scooted over to Marbella Club’s sister hotel Puente Romano Beach Resort, which recently unveiled summer pop-ups by Fendi, Valentino, and Tiffany Co. The property also has a new multi-brand concept shop stocking brands like Zimmermann and Guerlain.
After a long day of discovery, I was glad to return to the Marbella Club, where a band was setting up and the waiters were lighting the candles and setting the tables for evening service. I was due for dinner 30 minutes later, but I couldn’t resist stealing one last glance at Finca Ana María first.
Passing through the gates and into the estate, I could feel my pulse slow. Starlings were circling the pink-streaked sky, and the buzz of cicadas filled the humid summer air. I took a seat on the seafront yoga platform and promptly lost track of time, missing my dinner reservation. No matter: who needed Champagne and chocolate mousse when you could have Marbella exactly as it was 70 years ago—rugged, wild, unspoiled—on a silver platter?