Hotel of the Week: This Resort Is a Hidden Gem in One of the Caribbean’s Most Underrated Destinations

From the air, it registers less like a resort and more like a civic plan: low-slung buildings arrayed across 50 acres of tropical terrain, pinned between volcanic bluffs and a black-sand bay in the Eastern Caribbean’s lesser-known archipelago. On the ground, the new Sandals Saint Vincent and the Grenadines—the brand’s 18th property, opened March 2024 after a $50 million transformation of the former Buccament Bay Resort—doesn’t rely on floral theatrics or a dramatic, overproduced welcome ritual. Instead, guests encounter just a long axis, 300 feet of water dead ahead, cutting a deliberate line from the lobby to the Caribbean Sea, signaling the property’s newfound architectural ambitions from the first moment. 

This is the first clue that something has shifted for the 43-year-old hospitality brand. Where previous Sandals properties leaned into stagecraft and signaling, Saint Vincent pursues a more disciplined approach: architecture that holds its own against the weight of a volcano and the constancy of salt air. The layout tells you everything you need to know. Structures stay low and hug the terrain. Nothing breaks the tree line. Rooflines slip under the canopy, and volumes fracture to echo the scale of local buildings. Even the landscaping resists the manicured default. Drainage patterns are left alone. Native flora buffer the hardscape. 

Materiality leads the way here. Volcanic stone forms retaining walls and outdoor pavilions with the same logic that local houses employ. FSC-certified timber shows up in slatted headboards and built-ins that ventilate naturally, without mechanical intervention. In the public areas, the design team went heavy on matte finishes—charred wood, blackened metal, textured plaster—but avoided the “tropical Brutalism” label by keeping things human-scaled. 

The resort’s 301 rooms span 15 categories, but all share a material discipline rare in Caribbean hospitality. Interiors lean into a subdued mix of boucle, rattan, and woven cane—many custom-fabricated by island artisans. Even standard rooms clock in at nearly 600 square feet and feature those signature “Tranquility Soaking Tubs” (a Sandals trademark that survived the redesign), now recontextualized as sculptural objects. 

Nowhere is this approach clearer than in the Vincy Overwater Villas. Unlike their glass-bottomed cousins in the Maldives or French Polynesia, these 10 duplex structures are built for the Caribbean, both climatically and culturally. Natural ventilation, rooftop decks, and exteriors that will fade into a salt-silver finish. Even the spa holds the line. Built along the Buccament River, treatment rooms borrow real water sounds instead of manufacturing fake ones. The boundaries between indoors and out are mostly ignored—as they should be. 

Dining, too, resists the usual buffet bloat. Buccan, the standout restaurant, centers around open-fire cooking—using local cedar and coconut husks to grill lamb, fish, and produce in ways that recall pre-colonial methods without slipping into reenactment. The room is made of matte stone, with no branding, no vibe lighting. It’s designed for what it is, not what it wants you to post. 

Butch’s Island Chop House dials up the formality with its graphic stone flooring, charcoal upholstery, tropical deco wallpaper and sculptural brass lighting, crafting a space that reads more Mad Men Havana than standard-issue resort steakhouse. Meanwhile, Three Jewels Rum Bar channels Saint Vincent’s island identity through design and drink alike. Anchored by a sculptural driftwood ceiling installation and cane-wrapped textures, the space feels both grounded and intentional—more atelier than tiki. The cocktail menu pays tribute to the archipelago’s 32 islands and cays with an edited list of local rums, each pour served against a backdrop of handwoven pendants, matte finishes, and just enough shadow to keep it cool. 

What’s happened here is a redirect, for sure, from the Sandals formula. Volume, comfort, and couples haven’t been abandoned. Rather, these tenets have been reframed through design that suggests a company rethinking its relationship with place—trusting its context and rewarding people who notice. That may be the most radical move in luxury hospitality: trusting guests to recognize quality without leaning hard on tropes. And it may just mark the beginning of a Caribbean resort vernacular that actually lasts.