The Top 45 Hotels Near The Ray Hotel Delray Beach
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A Tropical Modernist boutique tucked into Delray Beach's increasingly vital corridor, The Ray strips away the Art Deco theatrics of Miami proper for clean lines and unhurried elegance. The rooftop lounge and Akira Back's Japanese restaurant anchor a property that feels less like a resort than a carefully composed argument for why this town deserves its moment.
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An adults-only all-suite sanctuary overlooking Lake Boca, redesigned with a 50,000-square-foot wellness center and four-acre pool club. Guests access The Boca Raton's sprawling 200-acre grounds: private beach, golf course, marina, and courts, all wrapped in Addison Mizner's 1926 Spanish Colonial architecture.
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The Beach Club commands a half-mile of private Atlantic shoreline with cabana rooms and three pools that blur the boundary between leisure and escape. Marisol restaurant anchors the compound, though the real draw may be simply staying put: the spa, golf course, marina, and tennis courts conspire to make leaving almost inconceivable.
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The Tower rises from a sprawling mid-century resort that channels old-money Florida through a contemporary lens, its 2022 redesign by Rockwell Group trading dated grandeur for clean modernism without losing a sense of place. Rooms, spa, beach access, and a roster of upscale restaurants and bars make it less a hotel than a self-contained world for those who want luxury without leaving the property.
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The Four Seasons Resort Palm Beach trades Miami's frenzy for unhurried elegance, its renovated rooms and tranquil pools positioned on pristine sand above the noise of Worth Avenue. Mauro Colagreco's restaurant Florie's translates his Italian and Argentine sensibilities through South Florida's seasonal produce, while the beachfront Seaway serves local seafood beneath native seagrape trees.
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A Mediterranean resort on its own stretch of private beach, Eau Palm Beach wraps guests in Jonathan Adler's maximalist interiors—bold colors and mid-century modern furnishings that feel more collected than designed. Complimentary champagne awaits in the chandelier-lit lobby, setting a tone of unforced luxury that the Gold Coast has come to expect.
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A restored oceanfront landmark in Palm Beach, now reimagined as a 79-room luxury hotel, trades decades of vacancy for mid-century modern rooms and a fanciful bar crowned with pink Murano glass. The Palm House Dining Room serves Japanese-Peruvian cuisine, while the pool deck and Worth Avenue proximity anchor what feels less like a hotel than a very expensive, very beautiful private club.
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A century-old Mediterranean Revival hotel of just 32 rooms sits in Palm Beach's walkable historic center, its courtyard poolside and contemporary interiors a studied counterpoint to the original architecture. Lola 41, the restaurant, imports its Nantucket formula—reliable, unpretentious cooking—to a room that feels less like hotel dining than neighborhood fixture.
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The Brazilian Court distills Palm Beach's old-world reserve into a quietly confident refuge, all Art Deco lines and unhurried service far from South Beach's glare. What emerges is not fashion but permanence, the kind of place that doesn't need to announce itself.
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A restored estate hotel honoring an early-20th-century conservationist, The Ben pairs tropical-inflected rooms with rooftop Mediterranean dining and a ground-floor American bistro. The waterfront setting channels old Florida's wildness through texture and local ingredients rather than theme-park nostalgia.
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A modernist tower on a serene stretch of beach, the Four Seasons offers the chain's familiar comforts alongside dining led by Chef Ryan Ratino, whose track record includes Michelin-starred establishments in Washington. The Intracoastal views and proximity to the area's retail and cultural draw make it a polished alternative to the busier oceanfront corridor.
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The oceanfront rooms settle into muted tones and mahogany, their balconies framing the Atlantic; the spa sprawls across eight thousand square feet of treatments. Burlock Coast, the dining room, anchors the property with refined seafood and a wine room where the sommelier moves through the list with unhurried purpose.
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A 24-story oceanfront tower rising above Fort Lauderdale's North Beach, all suites with views of the Atlantic and easy reach of Las Olas. The Conrad's nautical design and beachfront positioning make it a polished arrival for travelers who want the Gold Coast without leaving their lobby.
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A 1949 beachfront relic remade for the boutique era, the Shorebreak carries its history lightly—that pioneering pool still anchors the grounds. Kimpton's restrained touch lets the bones show, prioritizing competent execution over conceptual reinvention.
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The mid-century tower presides over its own marina like a restored monument to aquatic leisure, its retro interiors now paired with contemporary amenities. Overlooking Fort Lauderdale's inland waterways, it positions guests equidistant from both the beaches and the city's center.
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A sprawling resort built on the premise that serious golfers deserve serious amenities, PGA National sprawls across six championship courses, a spa, and multiple dining venues in Palm Beach Gardens. The place takes its hospitality infrastructure as seriously as its fairways, which is to say: very.
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A Mediterranean-villa resort on Sunny Isles Beach trades South Beach's frenzy for quieter oceanfront serenity, its terraces overlooking the Atlantic and Intracoastal waterways. Generous suites with separate sitting rooms and soaking tubs appeal to families seeking space and comfort without the crush.
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A 32-story tower rises above Sunny Isles' white sand with the spare luxury of a glass-and-steel monument, its rooms outfitted for the self-sufficient traveler with wet bars and water-sport access below. Azzurro, the signature restaurant, frames the Intracoastal in modern Italian, though it is the spa's eight thousand square feet of steam and stone that feels most like the actual reason to stay.
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A sprawling resort across 300 acres in Aventura that pivoted from golf retreat to full leisure destination with its 2019 expansion, adding towers, a water park, and multiple dining venues. The scale feels grand yet the grounds maintain pockets of intimacy, making it less a single hotel than a self-contained world.
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The original Surf Club, a 1930s Jazz Age landmark in Surfside, now anchors a Four Seasons complex where beachside luxury functions as quiet retreat rather than spectacle. Lido and Thomas Keller's Surf Club Restaurant operate as separate destinations, each exerting its own pull within the compound.
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A fifteen-minute escape north of South Beach's relentless pulse, this Ritz-Carlton trades glamour for the deliberate quiet of a manicured refuge. Its remove is precisely the point—proximity enough to the capital of American luxury travel, distance enough to breathe.
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A zigzag waterfront tower in Bal Harbour where Yabu Pushelberg's spare interiors and a 14,000-square-foot spa compete for your attention with the beach itself. The staff's insistence on handwritten notes and macarons at turndown suggests a hotel that mistakes attentiveness for theater, though the ocean views and white sand are genuine.
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Alan Faena has imported his Buenos Aires ethos of theatrical glamour and architectural ambition to Collins Avenue, where the hotel functions less as a refuge than as a neighborhood unto itself. The Faena doesn't whisper; it commands the block with the confidence of someone who has already remade a city once before.
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The Setai operates at a pitch of luxury so extreme that even Miami Beach's glittering excess seems restrained by comparison. Three pools, three restaurants, and a design vocabulary borrowed from Asian temples suggest a property less interested in subtlety than in the sheer accumulation of beauty.
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A hotel where reclaimed wood and recycled materials replace the usual Miami excess, 1 South Beach courts a new breed of traveler who equates restraint with luxury. The eco-conscious design reads less like penance than permission to indulge without guilt.
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Ian Schrager's Miami Beach EDITION brings the nightclub-inflected sensibility that defined Studio 54 to a new resort hotel, where the lobby functions as social theater and the poolside hums with the energy of a carefully curated scene. The design speaks to Schrager's three-decade track record of collapsing boundaries between hotel, gallery, and club.
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A Morris Lapidus landmark restored to gleaming form, mixing Art Deco whispers with crisp contemporary geometry on Lincoln Road. The Ritz-Carlton achieves what few Miami Beach hotels manage: genuine tranquility amid the surrounding commotion.
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Fontainebleau's 1,500 rooms and sprawling spa anchor a self-contained resort where conventioneers mingle with nightlife seekers at LIV and poolside lounges. The contemporary design and abundance of bars make it a see-and-be-seen affair, though Collins Avenue's quieter surroundings feel disconnected from the city.
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A 1921 neoclassical furniture showroom reconceived as a thirteen-room design hotel where plaster, curved wood, and rattan compose each suite like a considered interior. Downstairs, a Zaha Hadid installation presides over galleries and concept dining in a building that treats hospitality as deliberate aesthetic statement.
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The 1930s Art Deco shell of this Collins Avenue landmark has been gutted and remade as a sanctuary of cream tones and living plants, its hushed lobby a deliberate reprieve from South Beach's frenzy. What emerges is a contemporary boutique hotel that honors its architectural bones while refusing any nostalgia for the thing itself.
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An Art Deco boutique hotel where Fernando Santangelo's restoration marries vintage furnishings with Miami Beach's glossy visual grammar—all checkered tiles, coral lounges, and a cheeky indoor tiki bar anchoring the courtyard. The poolside cabanas and freestanding tubs suggest a place more interested in conjuring a mood than chasing trends.
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The National Hotel sits among South Beach's architectural heavyweights, a 1939 Art Deco structure that recently emerged from a twelve-million-dollar refresh. Its centerpiece is the longest infinity pool on the strip, a statement of competitive grandeur that anchors the lobby's restored glamour.
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A midcentury motel on Biscayne Boulevard that traded its postwar roadside anonymity for a second life as a boutique hotel, the Vagabond retains the architectural bones of its Sinatra-era past while shedding the neon kitsch. What emerges is a place that honors its vintage DNA without genuflecting to it, offering a cooler, more considered take on Miami's forgotten north side.
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A private members' club on Collins Avenue that treats its hotel rooms as an afterthought to the real draw—access to a world calibrated for those who belong nowhere but everywhere. The service and design hum with the confidence of a place that doesn't need to convince you of anything.
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A 287-room waterfront resort in South Beach's quieter reaches, anchored by a restored 1940s Art Deco tower and three connected buildings that eschew the minimalist playbook for mid-century warmth. The lobby reads like a period room—all brass fixtures and vintage furnishings—but the bones are thoroughly contemporary, making it feel neither retro pastiche nor corporate luxury.
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A Spanish colonial structure from 1930 anchors Casa Faena, where art deco geometry and tango-era glamour resist the chrome-and-velvet excess that defines Miami Beach. The place trades nostalgia for authenticity, offering respite in a landscape that has largely surrendered to spectacle.
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The W South Beach arrived on Collins Avenue with the fanfare of a place that somehow felt inevitable to Miami, its scale and swagger so aligned with the neighborhood's temperament that absence now seems impossible. A monument to the city's appetite for reinvention, it announces itself as less a hotel than a statement about what South Beach has become.
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A midcentury Collins Avenue landmark where Art Deco glamour meets the restrained modernism of Morris Lapidus, now revived under its latest name. The hotel's long arc of renovation suggests a place perpetually renewing itself while remaining tethered to old Hollywood's ghost.
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An Art Deco structure on Collins Avenue that resists the false choice between grandeur and intimacy, the Surfcomber marries vintage Miami charm with contemporary comfort in a way that feels earned rather than manufactured. The result is a hotel that lets you inhabit the place's actual history instead of performing it.
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The Gale sits on Collins Avenue as an Art Deco envelope holding retro glamour, a cocktail bar with real ambition, and a rooftop pool where the beautiful arrange themselves like a living still life. It doesn't reinvent South Beach hospitality so much as execute the formula without apology or excess.
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The Kimpton Hotel Palomar sits quietly on Collins Canal in Sunset Harbour, its restrained design refusing the usual South Beach swagger. Like other properties in the chain, it prioritizes ease over ostentation, letting the waterfront location and understated interiors speak for themselves.
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The Arlo chain plants its third Florida location in Wynwood with the same design-forward minimalism and youthful energy that defined its Manhattan and Miami Beach siblings, here inflected by the neighborhood's street-art vitality. Spare rooms and a stripped-down lobby suggest the hotel views itself as a backdrop to the district's own creative ferment rather than a destination unto itself.
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A Morris Lapidus masterwork where mid-century modern architecture frames oceanfront repose rather than nightlife spectacle, Eden Roc stages its guests against vintage Hollywood backdrop and contemporary ease. Frozen cocktails from shaded daybeds and a sprawling spa suffuse the place with the air of refinement Miami Beach once promised and mostly abandoned.
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A European hostel brand claims its first American foothold in this restored Art Deco building on Collins Avenue, offering bunks and private rooms with spartan, functional design. The stripped-down aesthetic—numbered beds, minimal decoration, shared facilities—caters to travelers who prefer affordability and social proximity over solitude.
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Rank 45. Freehand Miami
Hotels
A former South Beach hotel reclaimed as a budget hostel, Freehand Miami anchors itself around Broken Shaker, a patio bar that traffics in inventive cocktails and draws locals who'd otherwise avoid the neighborhood. The place trades exclusivity for accessibility, offering travelers affordable beds and a social atmosphere that feels genuinely rooted rather than designed.