Where the World’s Hottest Beach Clubs Are Hiding This Summer

The beach club used to be an afterthought—a row of loungers trailing off from the hotel pool, maybe a tiki hut or cabana for water sports. That model faded somewhere between Tulum’s first mezcal bar and Mykonos’s millionth DJ residency. What’s taken its place feels less like hospitality and more like cultural programming: bamboo cathedrals in Bali, Missoni zigzags stretched across Sicilian shorelines, Michelin-grade kitchens tucked behind weathered boat shacks in Formentera.

Evidently, the entire formula has matured. Start with climate-conscious architecture that works with the landscape instead of leveling it. Add a chef who may have trained under Ferran Adrià but knows when to skip the foam. Mix in just enough fashion-world credibility to register taste without broadcasting wealth. The result hits that elusive mark between accessibility and aspiration, where a zinc bar might serve natural wine to surfers at noon and investment bankers by sunset. The beach is still the draw—but the setting and savoir-faire have caught up. This is the new global circuit of world’s best beach clubs. Here’s where to go.

1. Butler’s Beach Club | Batroun, Lebanon

On a stretch of Lebanese coast where the Mediterranean still feels local, Butler’s Beach Club gives Batroun something new with its neo-Riviera vibe. With its concrete planes and cactus gardens, Capo, the low-rise hotel by Carl Gerges Architects, reads more sculptural landform than resort. The setting borrows from the Roman amphitheater playbook, and while other coastal outposts chase maximalism, Butler’s is confident enough to pare back. The raw bar spotlights the bright and the briny (think: yellowtail carpaccio slicked in truffle yuzu), and plates like turmeric-saffron risotto with scallops or Ponzu-laced baby chicken feel globally literate without overreaching. What anchors it all is the daily flow: sunrise swims, mid-afternoon repose, then golden-hour drinks under an architectural pergola that cinematically frames the sea. 

2. Nobu Barbuda | Princess Diana Beach, Barbuda, Antigua and Barbuda

Getting to Barbuda requires commitment: a flight to Antigua, then either a helicopter or speedboat across 30 miles of Caribbean blue. The island itself—population 1,500, one traffic light, more frigate birds than people—feels like somewhere that fell off the map and preferred it that way. Nobu’s outpost on Princess Diana Beach (yes, she visited once) strips the brand down to its bones. No black-clad hostesses, no scene to navigate. Just 400 acres of pink sand, mangroves, and a kitchen that delivers the hits like yellowtail jalapeño, black cod miso, crispy rice tuna in a simply spectacular setting. Champagne comes in coolers guests drag to their daybed. Lunch might stretch past sunset. The full resort opens in 2026 with De Niro-sanctioned villas starting at $12 million, but right now it’s simply the world’s most inaccessible Nobu, which might also be its best.

3. Missoni Resort Club | Verdura Resort, Sicily, Italy

Sicily has always been Italy’s wildcard, more baroque than bourgeois. But Verdura, the Rocco Forte hideaway on the island’s southern coast, tempers that free-spirit with discipline: 570 acres of terraced vineyards, seafront fairways, and sprawling spa infrastructure designed for the design-literate traveler. This year, the Missoni Resort Club took over, wrapping loungers, umbrellas, and cabanas in house zigzags—turquoise, lime, seafoam—like a Mediterranean optical illusion. It’s not fashion-as-decoration, but a full hospitality overlay, complete with resortwear drops and Sicilian citrus cocktails matched to the palette. 

4. La Réserve à la Plage | Pampelonne Beach, Ramatuelle, France

When Ramatuelle municipality ordered Pampelonne’s beach clubs dismantled in 2019—something about coastal regulations and illegal structures—most operators panicked. Michel Reybier saw an opening. The La Réserve founder brought in Philippe Starck, who delivered something that feels both temporary and eternal: weathered wood that will silver with age, rattan in seven different weaves, awnings striped like Berber textiles. Two-Michelin-starred chef Eric Canino runs the kitchen with the same anti-precious approach—courgette flowers arrive simply stuffed, fish tartare tastes like the boat just docked, and the tarte tropézienne skips the shortcuts that plague most beach club versions. This summer, Loro Piana dressed the entire operation in shades of sand and salt, down to cashmere throw pillows that denote this is certainly more posh than palapa.

5. Paralia Beach Bar | Kamares Beach, Sifnos, Greece

This Cycladic island, famous mostly for its pottery and the fact that it’s not Mykonos, attracts Greeks who summer like their grandparents did—same taverna every night, same beach chair every morning. Paralia, built in a converted ceramics workshop on Kamares Beach, understands the assignment. Here, orders are placed at the counter, names shouted when it’s ready, and guests eat chickpea fritters and grilled octopus from terra cotta plates with their toes buried in the sand. Chef Nikos Thomas, who also runs the more serious Bostani up the hill, keeps the menu tight and seasonal—whatever the boats brought in, plus enough vegetarian options that enshrine local bounty. Drinks taste like summer, and by 4 p.m., every table has migrated closer to the water, chairs at increasingly optimistic angles, the whole scene looking like a Slim Aarons photograph (if Aarons had preferred ouzo to martinis).

6. Scorpios Bodrum | Kızılburun Bay, Bodrum, Turkey

When Scorpios arrived in 2024, it brought its Mykonos-perfected formula to Turkey’s Turquoise Coast. The setting helps: a protected bay on the peninsula’s north side, far enough from Bodrum proper to feel like a discovery. Maxx Royal, the Turkish hospitality giant behind it, threw serious weight behind the project: Mahmut Anlar architecture, a Bernar Venet sculpture at the entrance, and staff uniforms by the in-house design team at Turkish department store Beymen. The brand’s second act plays out with more architectural ambition and less theatrical gloss. Unlike the original, this outpost includes accommodations: twelve stone-built, low-slung bungalows arranged around private infinity pools and open-air bathtubs with views of the Aegean. Visitors could stay tucked away, but most drift to the beach club by noon for mezze, natural wine, and a soundtrack by international DJs.

7. Mari Beach Club | Batu Belig Beach, Seminyak, Bali, Indonesia

In a coastal stretch wedged between Seminyak’s polished chaos and Canggu’s creative sprawl, Mari Beach Club rises from the sand like a bamboo cathedral. Designed by IBUKU—the Bali-based studio known for pushing vernacular architecture into the future—the space channels Mount Agung in its sweeping dome, while terraced stairs nod to rice paddy geometry. But it’s not just for design pilgrims. The club draws a rotating cast of expats, Jakarta fashion kids, and in-the-know travelers with its twin turquoise pools, fire-lit festivals, and open-air stages tuned to Afro house by sundown. The menu blends Indonesian staples with Mediterranean detours—grilled octopus, lamb kebabs, and seafood towers served beneath thatched canopies. Whether jetsetters land here here for a DJ set, a bonfire, or a bamboo swing moment at golden hour, Mari walks the line between local texture and high-production tropical spectacle.

8. Gitano Beach | Parque Nacional, Tulum, Mexico

Tulum’s Playa ruins may lure the daytrippers, but Gitano Beach, tucked inside Parque Nacional, draws a different crowd—less raw food, more raw edge. Opened in 2020, the setup reads like a mirage for the wellness-weary: a sweep of protected white sand, shallow jade surf, and a constellation of black-and-white tipis pitched for lounging. Padraig Confrey (ex-Pujol) engineered a zero-waste cocktail program behind the palapa with dishes like pineapple husks, burnt citrus, and the kind of mezcal rigor that now passes for Tulum’s terroir. Alexandros Gkoutsi, who now helms Gardner’s Greek concept Meze up the road, shaped a menu where the Med meets the Caribbean: line-caught fish tacos laced with lime and cabbage, feta-watermelon salad with none of the usual clichés. The vibe sits somewhere between seasoned festival veteran and L.A. stylist on sabbatical.

9. Krabo | Zoska Bay, Athens Riviera, Greece

Vouliagmeni has long been Athens’s sun-polished secret: pine-fringed coves, a yacht club with more Range Rovers than sails, and the kind of glitz that wears linen. Once a modest taverna, the site was refashioned by architect Giagkos Agiostratitis and his brother Theo into a design-forward escape with enough edge to avoid the soft luxury trap. There’s Aperol spritz spiked with watermelon syrup, grilled artichokes over mizithra cream, and amberjack sashimi topped with yuzu kosho and roasted pistachios—a few of chef Panagiotis Giakalis’s sharpest plays. The setting, shielded by cliffs and under 30 minutes from central Athens, feels improbably remote, adding to the draw of the Riviera’s renaissance.

10. Maçakizi | Türkbükü, Bodrum, Turkey

Türkbükü sold its soul one branded beach club at a time, but Maçakizi still operates like it’s 1977. That’s when Ayla Emiroğlu opened the original, back when the Bodrum Peninsula was for artists rather than oligarchs. Her son Sahir inherited more than real estate—he got the waiters who remember everyone’s drink, the boat captains who know which slip you prefer, the particular alchemy that makes 72 rooms feel like someone’s exceptionally chic house. Most guests never check in anyway. They anchor offshore for lunch and stay through dinner, or arrive by Land Rover for what was supposed to be a quick drink. The Michelin star that arrived this year surprised nobody, and things are getting even tastier with Aret Sahakyan’s new 18-seat venture, Ayla.

11. Raes on Wategos | Wategos Beach, Byron Bay, Australia

True to Australia’s open-beach ethos where no stretch of sand is ever private, Raes channels a more discreet take on beach club culture, one that helped script Byron Bay’s barefoot-luxury playbook. Long before the town became shorthand for influencer bohemia, this seven-suite hideaway set the tone: glamour without noise, exclusivity without signage. The original structure—a Spanish-styled relic turned low-slung icon—holds the DNA. It’s not a beach club in the traditional sense, but a beachfront retreat for surf, seafood, and staying put. The newer Raes Guesthouses, tucked discreetly behind the main house, amplify the appeal. Designed by Tamsin Johnson, the interiors make clever use of contrast: Indo-Portuguese antiques offset by Memphis lighting, bamboo-framed beds next to lacquered tables—all built for visual appeal and coastal durability.

12. Alemagou | Ftelia Beach, Mykonos, Greece

Tucked into a wind-brushed cove past Ftelia, this Mykonos mainstay eschews the island’s over-the-top instincts for sun-bleached timber, straw canopies, and sand-tinted concrete. The design splits the difference between Cycladic vernacular and desert camp—gourd-shaped pendants cast shadows like sundials, raw canvas curtains breathe with the wind, and every surface seems calibrated to patina rather than impress. The al fresco restaurant’s menu matches in edible form. Raw zucchini arrives paper-thin with torn mint and shaved graviera, octopus carpaccio glistens under smoked eggplant puree, and the deconstructed moussaka—built on beef cheek that falls apart at first touch—manages to honor tradition while ignoring it completely.

13. Casa Jondal | Cala Jondal, Ibiza, Spain

Seville-born chef Rafa Zafra—best known for his tenure at El Bullí and as co-founder of Barcelona’s seafood shrine Estimar—has carved out something singular at Casa Jondal. Set on Ibiza’s Cala Jondal, the restaurant steers toward intentional simplicity: Sabina trees rigged with cotton canvas, denim-clad servers, and no background music (the sound license never cleared, and Zafra liked it that way). The menu’s brilliance lies in its restraint. Oysters arrive undressed or nearly so—ponzu with roasted tomato, or pickled vegetable juice with olive oil. Langoustines are whole, priced by the kilo, or sautéed “ajillo”-style with brandy onions. Scorpion fish is deep-fried and meant to be torn apart into DIY tacos. Even anchovies get only two options: marinated or fried, with lemony mayo on the side.

14. CocoMaya | Valley Trunk Bay, Virgin Gorda, British Virgin Islands

On an island where most beach bars resemble driftwood shacks strung together with rum and optimism, CocoMaya arrives fully formed. Polished stone and dark timber set the tone, with reflective surfaces and clean sightlines framing uninterrupted views of Scrub, Dog, and Camanoe islands. The menu leans bright and coastal—coriander-seared tuna, ceviche, and tacos—with enough range to work as a daytime bolthole or a sunset dinner spot year-round. But its apex, just outside the holiday crush, hits in mid-December when the Little Dix Bay Tennis Cup brings names like Sloane Stephens and Genie Bouchard to the courts at the Rosewood one bay over. Between rallies, expect spectators to drift back to CocoMaya for lychee-ginger Champagne cocktails that cut the heat and keep the pace.

15. UXUA Praia | Quadrado Coast, Trancoso, Brazil

Trancoso attracted Brazil’s artists and architects back when the only way in was a dirt road through the jungle. UXUA Praia, an extension of Wilbert Das’s cultish UXUA Casa Hotel, keeps that spirit alive even as private jets crowd the nearby airstrip. The beach club—though calling it that feels wrong—occupies a mangrove-fringed stretch where river meets ocean. Das, who spent a decade at Diesel before trading Milan for Bahia, designed it like a local would if that local had unlimited funds and perfect taste: fishing boats repurposed as bars, tables made from doors, a kitchen that moves between moqueca and molecular without irony. The crowd reflects Trancoso’s evolution—São Paulo gallerists, European photographers “researching a project,” families who’ve been coming since before the roads were paved. 

16. Beso Beach | Playa de Ses Illetes, Formentera, Spain

The driftwood-and-dreams aesthetic at Beso Beach—weathered planks, sand floors, the kind of carefully disheveled look that costs a fortune—hides serious ambition. Carles Abellán, the El Bullí alum who transformed Barcelona dining at Comerç 24, treats this Formentera outpost like a laboratory for beach food that matters. Spiny lobster arrives in bite-sized portions, crowned with soft egg and available truffle supplements. Mussels swim in fino sherry, eggplant gets the harissa treatment, and the house hot dog—Catalan llonganissa dressed like it’s heading to a food truck convention—somehow transcends its format. By day, it’s all leisurely lunches and rosé-fueled debates about nothing important. After dark, tables become dance floors, napkins wave like white flags, and the DJ pushes just hard enough to keep everyone vertical.

17. Fontelina Beach Club | Faraglioni, Capri, Italy

Reaching Fontelina requires either a boat or a cliff descent that separates tourists from believers—200-plus stone steps carved into Capri’s flank, each one a small commitment to lunch. The payoff: blue-and-white umbrellas arranged with geometric precision, the Faraglioni rocks posing in the background, and a menu that hasn’t changed because it doesn’t need to. Two families have run the place since 1949, which in Capri terms makes it practically prehistoric. Lobster linguine arrives gleaming with olive oil and not much else. Vongole get the white wine treatment. The wine itself—Falanghina or Greco di Tufo—sweats in metal buckets while waiters in white polos navigate tables unchanged, likely since the ’60s.