Four Seasons at the Surf Club

Vogue

03-06-2025

Welcome to the second iteration of Vogue's global spa guide, an index of the 100 best spas in the world, built from the expertise of our global editors and trusted contributors. There is a lot to choose from in the world of wellness, and no matter how far you're planning to travel—from a subway ride to a trans-Atlantic flight—we want to make sure it's worth the journey. Whatever your path, let us be your guide.
Why go here?
Arriving in Miami is always a bit of a shock to the system. There's the humidity, the precipitous proximity to the water (don't they know about rising seas?), the quality of the light, which seems to bore directly into your retinas at the same time that it casts a diffuse and flattering glow. Who could be down in the dumps when such supercharged doses of vitamin D abound and everyone's whizzing along on rollerblades? Something about Miami just makes the body unclench.
So who needs to relax in such a city? And, doesn't one go to Miami to see and be seen, not hide away in a taupe-toned bolthole, dressed in a terry cloth robe? Perhaps. But if you're looking for an elevated way to wind down, a few miles removed from the effervescent extremes of South Beach, you can't do much better than the Four Seasons at the Surf Club, a storied hotel that has been reinvented in recent decades to assume a place among the most delightful and elegant hotels in Miami. Though the structure is imposing, there are just 77 rooms and 25 suites that are part of the hotel, so a friendly and intimate warmth pervades the place as well.
Photo: Courtesy of Four Seasons Hotel at The Surf Club
What's the vibe?
The entrance to the Four Seasons at The Surf Club lies behind an unassuming stretch of Collins Avenue, past strip malls with nail salons and burger joints, and low-profile beachsite hotels painted the chalky pastel shades of a roll of Sweet Tarts. Off the main road—with its flip-flopping pedestrians in tank tops—the Surf Club's lobby is a grand, high-ceilinged affair, with stretches of sand-colored stone, rattan settees, and potted palms so tall their fronds tickle the ceiling. It is a bit like stepping back in time, and with good reason: The building is actually an amalgam of the original structure, built in the 1930s in the Mediterranean revival style, and a more recent renovation that married the original structure with the glass towers that now encase it.
As in all high-end hotels in Miami, but perhaps especially here, you're likely to see several head-to-toe, label-blaring ensembles before you even exit the lobby. On a recent visit, a woman sauntered into the spa locker room in floor-length silk, only to immediately stash her gown in her locker. But for the most part, the spa is a step or two less intense, with a crisp and clean aesthetic, fitting its beachside location: white walls, black and white Moroccan tiled floors, notes of blue in the upholstery. The carrels where you rest pre- and post-treatment resemble the beachside cabanas below, and are smartly situated so that you have no choice but to stare directly at the crashing waves. During my treatments, the standard Enya-lite soundtrack had been replaced by piped-in sounds of the ocean—they know the gifts they're working with.
What's the history?
The Surf Club was dreamed up in the 1930s by tire tycoon Harvey Firestone and constructed by Miami architect Russell Pancoast. It might have been founded at the height of the Depression and in the middle of Prohibition, but that didn't stop its founders from inculcating a sense of indulgence from the very beginning: A mural devoted to Bacchus on one wall faced a copy of the rules prohibiting alcohol. The hotel quickly became a beloved destination, drawing a colorful and varied crowd. Tennessee Williams came, so did the Duke and Duchess of Windsor, and Frank Sinatra and his Brat Pack. The resort was beloved by Noel Coward, and it was where Winston Churchill partly recuperated after World War II; in one photo, the ex-PM is painting pictures of the sea, dressed in a mackintosh, lips clamped around a cigar. (You can take the man out of London…) A cocktail and the poolside restaurant are named after him. Today, that spirit of glamour lives on, reinvented by architect Richard Meier and interior designer Joseph Dirand.
Photo: Courtesy of Four Seasons Hotel at The Surf Club
What should you try?
As I was kindly informed by assistant spa manager Marbella Abascal, relaxation starts from the ground up, and so I started my treatment with a CBD foot soak. I then proceeded to the Surf Club Signature Massage, which took place—slightly strangely—on top of a crystal-embedded red-light mat that looked a bit like something that was going to beam me up to the mothership. But once the mat was covered with a sheet, transcendence of another kind took place as the skilled masseuse prised my shoulder blades from their clamped down position on my upper back to address the stubborn kinks underneath. Before my massage, I had been asked to identify which of three images (water, forest, sky) spoke to me, and that spa-version of a Rorschach test determined which scents and oils would be deployed. I was, indeed, floating when I left the room.