The Top 50 Hotels Near Marché Moderne
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A Tuscan village transplanted to the Newport coast, this resort wraps guests in Italian-inspired comfort while Tom Fazio's 36 holes command views of the Pacific and manicured grounds. The circular Coliseum pool ranks among the world's largest; Pelican Grill serves elevated coastal fare while lesser venues peddle pizza and pasta to the fairway crowd.
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A tower above Fashion Island's shopping center, the Pendry trades the OC's strip-mall vernacular for art deco glamour and a resort atmosphere that feels borrowed from somewhere distant. The steakhouse leans California; the pool bar serves Baja-inflected drinks; the whole operation assumes that luxury in Orange County means escape.
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Perched on a bluff above Laguna Beach, this arts-and-crafts resort channels the romantic vision of the town's early twentieth-century artists' colony through stone architecture, curated galleries, and garden pathways that descend toward white sand. The lobby bar stages live music and sunset cocktails while fire pits glow across grounds designed as much for wandering as for staying still.
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Fifteen waterfront acres in Newport Beach host seasonal concerts and film screenings, while the concierge arranges vintage Mustang rentals and packed picnic baskets for drives down the Pacific Coast Highway. The resort trades in the fantasy of endless California sun, populated beaches, and the possibility of whales breaching offshore.
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A twenty-two-room hotel built on the garden-courtyard model of a Laguna Beach from decades past, Casa Laguna trades the boutique pretense of its neighbors for genuine smallness and a breakfast that arrives with its own modest legend. The rooms feel less like inventory and more like invitations to linger in what remains of the town's quieter era.
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Nestled in canyons above the Pacific Coast Highway, this restored golf-club-turned-hotel preserves Laguna Beach's artistic past while offering spa facilities and outdoor activities across eighty-seven acres. Deer graze the grounds and owls call at dusk—a nature retreat that feels removed from the resort world, even as it courts both relaxation and adventure.
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A two-story mid-century motel on the Coast Highway finds new life under Palisociety's stewardship, its bones dusted off and its rooms dressed in a hybrid sensibility that borrows equally from coastal California, Northeastern prep, and European restraint. The result feels neither retro pastiche nor generic refresh—instead, a place that knows what it is and commits to it without apology.
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Perched 150 feet above the Pacific, this recently renovated resort offers spa treatments inspired by coastal mist and rooms suffused with California light. Its clifftop setting and marine-centered activities draw everyone from staycationers to conference attendees seeking respite.
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Perched on Dana Point cliffs, this resort descends in terraced layers—from the lobby's ocean-mirrored palette through gardens and pools to a private beach club in a 1960s cottage. The restaurants and golf course justify never leaving, though the Pacific sprawls indifferently beyond.
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A beachfront hotel where the vintage VW van parked out front and surfboard art signal surrender to coastal living, Paséa sits steps from Huntington Beach Pier with rooms dressed in blues and sand tones. The rooftop bar and Balinese spa reinforce what the place keeps insisting: that the Pacific, not the room itself, is the real draw here.
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The Grand Californian wraps you in Craftsman aesthetics and theme-park proximity—its lobby practically opens onto California Adventure, and digital keys let you skip the desk entirely. When the crowds wear thin your nerves, the Tenaya Stone Spa pulls you into a nature-inspired sanctuary that remembers the hotel's architectural bones.
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The Shorebreak sits where Pacific Coast Highway meets legend, a Kimpton property planted directly across from the pier in a town that long ago claimed surfing as its identity. Floor-to-ceiling windows frame the pier and the Pacific beyond, anchoring what feels less like a resort and more like a finally adequate stage set for the place itself.
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The Richland salvages Orange's founding name and spirit in a restored Old Towne compound of vintage wood and citrus-patterned wallpaper, where a main house, cottage, and bar drift among olive trees. The place trades in California cool nostalgia—all exposed beams and craftsman furniture—without the self-consciousness that usually ruins such things.
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A sprawling resort anchored on the cliffs of Rancho Palos Verdes, where the old Marineland once drew crowds, Terranea commands views of the Pacific from its perch south of LAX. The location reads as both escape and convenience—thirty minutes from downtown Los Angeles, yet positioned on a peninsula that feels genuinely removed from the city's orbit.
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A seven-story oceanfront tower in revitalized Oceanside, Mission Pacific sits directly across from the historic pier, its rooms and common spaces wrapped in California cool minimalism and sea light. The rooftop bar and Valle, a restaurant devoted to Baja cooking, anchor a property that feels less like a resort than a minor city unto itself.
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A modern Hyatt property steps back from Oceanside's main beach to frame the Pacific and historic pier in its lounges and pool deck, salt air drifting through open doors as surfers pass through the bright lobby. The 226 rooms and understated coastal design activate what was once overlooked downtown real estate into a plausible rival for the North County resorts nearby.
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An 1888 brick structure—originally a hardware store—anchors Oceanside's quietly flourishing hotel scene with just ten rooms and an architectural particularity that feels almost defiant in coastal California. The Brick Hotel trades scale for presence, the kind of place where the building itself becomes the argument for staying.
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Shade Hotel occupies Redondo Beach's waterfront with the casual confidence of a place that knows its location needs no apology. A boutique property arriving where Victorian resorts once drew crowds, it channels contemporary ease rather than historical reverence.
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The 1926 Renaissance Revival building at 11th and Broadway has been restored into a 148-room luxury hotel where Kelly Wearstler's design sensibility meets downtown L.A.'s renewed vitality. What emerges is a hotel that honors its architectural bones while asserting a contemporary vision—the kind of place that makes you believe in urban renewal.
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Rank 20. Conrad Los Angeles
Hotels
Frank Gehry's first California hotel stands across from his Disney Concert Hall, its sculptural steel facade gleaming above a tenth-floor lobby that opens onto a rooftop terrace and infinity pool. The lobby bar, carved from 11,000-year-old lava, and a curated modern art collection signal a property where design ambition meets urban resort comfort.
- Forbes Travel Guide Forbes Four Star
- Michelin Guide Selected Hotels
- Time Out 2026 · The 17 best hotels in Los Angeles
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A Beaux-Arts palace anchoring seventeen manicured acres in Pasadena since 1906, The Langham Huntington unfolds as a self-contained world of gardens, cottages, and ballrooms designed by visionary architects for railroad wealth. The spa treatments, tennis courts, and poolside cocktails address a particular species of leisure—unhurried, territorial, built to last.
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A 1916 warehouse in downtown's Arts District houses this members' club, where creative types gather in a space designed to blur the line between workspace and refuge. The setting itself—exposed brick, industrial bones, the hum of the city just outside—becomes the main attraction, a backdrop for the kind of networking that thrives on proximity and atmosphere.
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A converted firehouse in the Arts District achieves an almost monastic calm through spare Japanese design, white-washed walls, and wood-beamed ceilings that recall the building's industrial past. The bathrooms—with their sculpted stone sinks—suggest a philosophy that even fixtures should whisper rather than shout.
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A glass tower housing the hotel's upper floors commands downtown L.A.'s skyline, its spare interiors designed to muffle the entertainment district's noise below. The spa and club lounge deliver the expected refinement, though the property reads less as a destination unto itself than as a polished perch above the action.
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A 1922 Art Deco tower in Downtown L.A. converted into a Mediterranean-inflected hotel, where the Giannini Building's banking-era grandeur meets contemporary Italian design. Rooms drift in cream and olive tones, and the rooftop captures the particular light and ease the city promises but rarely delivers.
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Shade occupies the glossy pivot of Manhattan Beach from surf town to seaside enclave, its interiors by Christopher Lowell pitched toward the Instagram-ready traveler rather than the wetsuit crowd. Three blocks from the beach, the hotel argues that luxury lives indoors.
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A 327-room resort sprawled across 250 acres of manicured gardens overlooking the Batiquitos Lagoon, with an 18-hole golf course and 15,000-square-foot spa anchoring its offerings. The interiors channel coastal California restraint—calm, spacious, appointed with the kind of understated refinement that doesn't announce itself.
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The hotel rises from Marina del Rey's sprawl of water and moored yachts, five miles from the airport but insulated by glass and silence. Its spa, poolside lounging, and waterfront dining compose a self-contained retreat where Los Angeles recedes entirely.
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A converted warehouse on Broadway houses the Hoxton's signature blend of salvaged wood, exposed brick, and design-forward minimalism, channeling the gritty-chic sensibility that defined its London original. The hotel reads as neither cynical pastiche nor oversized resort, but rather a credible expression of Downtown's ongoing reinvention.
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Downtown Los Angeles got its third Freehand outpost, a mini-chain expansion that signals the neighborhood's draw for boutique hotel operators. The arrival suggests the area has matured enough to compete with Miami and Chicago for the kind of travelers who choose style over standardization.
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A modernist resort perched on a bluff between San Diego and Orange County, Alila Marea marries minimalist California design with the kind of quiet luxury that doesn't need to announce itself. Chef Claudette Zepeda's VAGA serves San Diego cuisine to the sound of waves, while the spa and oceanfront pool frame the experience—coastal comfort stripped to its essentials.
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Rank 32. The LINE LA
Hotels
A renovated 1964 tower on Wilshire Boulevard housing 384 minimalist rooms with views of either the boulevard's traffic or the Hollywood Hills beyond. The LINE LA trades grandeur for design confidence and public spaces that hum with the particular energy of a hotel that knows its own aesthetic.
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A 1920s Mediterranean Revival mansion in Silver Lake that has cycled through silent-film stardom, religious orders, and interior design dreams now operates as a nine-room hotel of studied aesthetic precision. Hollister's hand is everywhere—in the courtyards, the salvaged details, the sense that you're sleeping inside a carefully composed photograph rather than a mere room.
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A redesigned tower anchoring Hollywood and Vine, W Hollywood balances moody mid-century aesthetics with the brand's signature vivacity, from weekly DJ sets in the lobby to the city's largest rooftop pool deck. The refresh—a rare return to the original design team—traded garish glam for emerald and goldenrod, trading on proximity to fame without surrendering the place's theatrical pulse.
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At the corner of Hollywood and Vine sits a members' club that doubles as a boutique hotel, its thirty-five suites balancing bohemian warmth with understated luxury. The Aster feels less like a destination than a refuge—a place where retro charm and genuine hospitality conspire to make you forget you're in the middle of the city.
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A West Hollywood boutique hotel that returns to the founding vision of its parent brand, the Palihouse presents itself as extended-stay lodging with daily refresh. The 95 rooms suggest a property built for the traveler who wants neither transience nor commitment, steeped in the particular strain of casual luxury that defines the neighborhood.
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Philippe Starck's playful maximalism defines this hotel's interiors, where opulence tilts toward theater rather than restraint. The rooftop pool and spa anchor a self-contained world designed less for refuge than for display.
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A 1927 Spanish Colonial landmark where the first Academy Awards ceremony unfolded, the Hollywood Roosevelt reclaims its golden-age swagger through meticulous restoration and recent reimagining by Yabu Pushelberg. The hotel's twelve stories of Art Deco detail command Hollywood Boulevard with the composure of something that has always known its own importance.
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A modernist mid-century shell near LAX reimagined as an affordable Proper Hotels sibling, trading airport convenience for proximity to Marina del Rey and Venice's casual beach culture. Welton Becket's architecture anchors the place; the vibe is West L.A. ease rather than transient efficiency.
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A 1980s motel stripped down and recalibrated into something spare and considered, Silver Lake Pool & Inn trades obviousness for a studied calm that feels earned rather than imposed. The Palisociety group has a gift for rescuing ordinary buildings; here they've made the quotidian architectural vernacular into something worth studying.
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Palihotel's Culver City outpost inhabits a 1920s building with art deco bones, fitting neatly into the neighborhood's unlikely transformation from studio backlot to dining and retail destination. The hotel's modern-classic sensibility—clean lines, period details left mostly alone—suggests that sometimes the best intervention is restraint.
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The vintage neon sign overhead—leftover from the building's past life as a bikini bar—sets the tone for a rock-and-roll hotel that wears its storied history without irony. Behind the Santa Monica Boulevard façade lies a place where rehearsal spaces and residential rooms occupy the same legendary corner, suggesting the ghosts of young musicians still linger.
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A mid-century courtyard motel between Los Feliz and Thai Town has been quietly transformed into something altogether more refined. Cara Hotel arrives as a stylish boutique property that suggests its parent brand understands restraint as a form of luxury.
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A former motor lodge reborn on Fairfax with checkered marble, skylights flooding California light, and a pool courtyard wrapped in living walls—the suites house Kenton Nelson paintings and Taschen libraries like small museums. Leo Grifka's redesign treats the place as a statement about Los Angeles itself, location made decor, and it sits where the Farmers Market and LACMA are steps away.
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The Hollywood Grande anchors Wilcox Avenue in a neighborhood that pulses with creative energy, a deliberate counterweight to the tourist crush nearby. It reads as luxury boutique hotel—design-forward, socially alive, yet private enough to feel like a residential refuge.
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The Kimpton Everly sits two blocks north of Hollywood Boulevard's crush, close enough to the Capitol Records building that you feel the neighborhood's pull without its noise. The hotel offers a quieter foothold in one of Los Angeles's most trafficked districts, where walking distance means something other than survival.
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A youthful sibling to the Thompson next door, Tommie stakes its claim in the thick of Hollywood between Sunset and the Boulevard, trading high-gloss luxury for something more stripped-down and approachable. The rooms split the difference between indulgence and restraint, a philosophy that extends through the hotel's deliberately informal corridors and common spaces.
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Cameo Beverly Hills wraps itself in a stylized noir elegance, all clean lines and classic restraint against the California sun. The former Tower's shell houses something that feels like a Parisian luxury hotel dreamed in black and white—a corrective to the cold minimalism that exhausted itself years ago.
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Rank 49. Hotel Covell
Hotels
Above Bar Covell on Hollywood Boulevard, Hotel Covell houses nine rooms outfitted with record players, clawfoot tubs, and locally stocked Smeg refrigerators, each one distinctly furnished for a different sensibility. The place feels less like a hotel than a collector's carefully edited vision of how a room might speak to you.
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