Top 3 Luxury Hotels in Malibu for an Unforgettable California Getaway

Malibu has long inspired artists and beckoned the rich and famous. Now three low-key hotels are offering visitors a slice of the southern California dream.

Hotel June

It was beginning to feel familiar, a sense memory rising from deep within my hippocampus. That sharp curve of road — it was in the chase scene from that movie, right? The Creamsicle sunset, just as mesmerizing as the song promised. That perfume — was it star jasmine or eucalyptus, Ms. Didion? (Actually, it was both.)

I drove west. Los Angeles was at my back, the Santa Monica Mountains to my right, and billions of dollars of oceanfront real estate (paid for by even greater billions in box-office sales) to my left. Ahead, the jagged rocks and darkening sky became unreliable bearings. With cell service in Malibu notoriously spotty, I pulled into a gas station to ask for directions.

“Point Dume is where God would build a house,” the man behind bulletproof glass shouted, “if he was rich enough!” He howled with laughter, a frayed Netflix cap falling from his sunburned forehead. “Welcome to the good part, man. Keep heading west, and keep the water on your left.”

October had arrived, and I’d driven from Los Angeles to escape a heat wave. After a series of predictable traffic jams — where the 10 intersects with the 405 and where the Pacific Coast Highway hits Rustic Canyon — I was somewhere deep in the enclave’s spiritual center, “the most Malibu of Malibu.”

Eighteen miles into the 21-mile strip that comprises the seaside city, I was long past the pier and the paddleboarders, past Cher’s house (currently listed at $85 million), Dr. Dre’s mansion on Carbon Beach (a.k.a. Billionaire’s Beach), and the Malibu Country Mart, with its mother-daughter duos in matching Teressa Foglia straw hats carrying matching chicken Caesars from Rande Gerber’s Café Habana. This was the Malibu of Neil Young circa his 1975 album “Zuma”; of desolate beaches like Point Dume Reserve, which in 1968 served as a location for the original Planet of the Apes. The Malibu of the 10-foot-high privacy hedge. The Malibu where Bob Dylan still lives in the home he bought for $100,000 in 1979.

But there’s always been just one hotel: the Riviera. Built in 1949; in 1974, Dylan wrote “Blood on the Tracks” there. About six years ago, its 13 rooms underwent a rejuvenation and were renamed the Native. In 2021, it took on a new modern flavor — fewer Airstream trailers and pink walls, yet retaining the same amount of Aesop products, while adding handmade hammocks and baguette sandwiches from cult deli Gjusta — transforming it into Hotel June Malibu, part of the Proper Hospitality group (known for its swank boutique Proper hotels). If you squint at the sign at the head of the driveway, you can see the hotel’s three names layered on top of each other.

I checked into Room 13, located all the way at the end — across from the new heated pool and sofa-like deck chairs. It used to be Dylan’s. Despite the addition of tempting patio hammocks, the modern rooms aren’t designed for lounging — they’re nice but minimalistic, featuring concrete floors and redwood beams. Instead, you’re meant to get out. Surf. Swim. Eat $40 barramundi tacos!

Overnight, it rained. The next morning, low clouds and gray skies accompanied my Gjusta croissant, which I picked up from the front desk. An even denser top note of that Malibu eau de parfum rode in on the fog, right through my half-open Dutch door. The fragrance grew stronger an hour later when I found myself riding shotgun in a Subaru station wagon with Sam Shendow, one of the co-owners of Hotel June, and her colleague Travis Collings. We climbed down toward Zuma Beach, into the neighborhoods of Point Dume. “This is the Malibu of locals,” Collings mentioned. Having grown up here, his first job was tending bar at the legendary Duke’s. “The Nobu and all that is… a different place.”

Shendow and Collings mentioned the 2018 Woolsey Fire, which claimed three lives and burned nearly 100,000 acres of land. As we drove by celebrity-owned mansions and small family homes that were passed down through generations, they pointed out which houses, streets, and backyards had been damaged or destroyed. “The fire changed the land here; it changed the vegetation we’re allowed to plant,” Shendow said. “It changed us.” The home of Rick Rubin — the mega-producer behind albums from Adele, Johnny Cash, and the Beastie Boys — burned down, but his studio was saved by the native plants surrounding the building, which acted as a natural flame retardant.

The combination of the fire and the pandemic irrevocably altered Malibu, Shendow and Collings continued. The fire initiated a building boom, and then the pandemic — during which some weekend homes became full-time residences — helped transform the area from a somewhat seasonal destination into a genuine year-round community. New hotspots like Broad Street Oyster Co. and the recently opened Malibu Brewing Co. emerged, along with timeless spots like the Sunset Restaurant on Westward Beach, where every table overlooking the beach is now occupied most nights at dusk. “Now you have the Andrew Garfields,” Collings noted. “You have, like, every WB network actor from the nineties here in Point Dume. It’s as if everyone you’ve ever seen your whole life just decided this is the spot to be.”

Later that afternoon, as I drove east listening to Dylan, I donned my sunglasses while rain pummeled my car from a sun-shower.

We pulled over near Johnny Carson’s old cliff-top mansion to say hi to a supermodel and a pro surfer out walking their dogs. A key fob granted us access to one of three private trails down to Little Dume Beach, which is only reachable from adjacent public beaches during low tide. Someone had engraved the 30-some sand-covered steps down to the water with a series of hand-drawn manifestations: Joy, Gratitude, Present, Honesty, Peace, and, curiously, Daddy.

We eventually reached the ocean, and a surfer emerged from the water, just as the tide began to rise. His wet suit open to his waist, he resembled a centaur. A key fob — which some locals claim can add $10 million to a property’s listing price — jangled from his bicep.

Nobu Ryokan Malibu

There’s a stretch of the Pacific Coast Highway — about a mile between the paragliding school and the pier — where all of our Champagne wishes and caviar dreams seem to reside. The Maseratis, the paparazzi, and the pristine beaches; the flip-flops and the Patek Philippes; and some of the priciest real estate in the country. (It’s comforting to know that surfers, stoners, and vagabonds living in camper vans along the PCH are enjoying the same view as the CEOs on Carbon Beach.)

In these areas, Nobu Malibu serves as the town square. There’s Scott Disick jumping into a spiffy valet. Hey, it’s Will Smith and Jada Pinkett Smith stepping back into public life. Happy 50th, Cameron Diaz! Happy Tuesday, Selena Gomez. When I entered the restaurant for lunch, I nearly bumped into Rosie O’Donnell, who moved to town during the pandemic. “What a terrible day in Malibu!” she exclaimed while heading to valet, her face illuminated by a cloudless sky.

A waterfront table at Nobu is the toughest reservation to secure in southern California. Staying just two doors down at the 16-room Nobu Ryokan Malibu significantly aids this endeavor. The hotel opened in 2017 as a joint venture between Nobu Matsuhisa, Robert De Niro, and Larry Ellison. The rooms (which start around $2,000 a night, with a two-night minimum) can be ocean-facing, beachfront, or garden-adjacent.

As I entered Asahi, my limestone-walled sanctuary, the porter handed me an iPad to order from the restaurant (everything but the omakase is available for room service) and then opened the sliding glass doors. A chorus of crashing surf, like the scenes from The Perfect Storm, filled the room in Dolby surround sound. “The waves do keep some people awake,” the porter confessed. Looking out, I spotted a hoverboard surfer gliding across the horizon, seemingly unfazed by the waves.

For over 4,000 years, this area belonged to the Chumash, a Native American group. They named it Humaliwo, which translates to “the surf sounds loudly.” It was transliterated to “Malibu” by Spanish colonizers in the early 1800s. It wasn’t until Gidget surfed into the American consciousness (first portrayed by Sandra Dee, then Sally Field) that the Malibu we recognize today was born. Every cinematographer’s shot began with the Pacific Ocean.

Is this the part where I describe it? It’s green…no, blue…maybe even purple at times. At sunset, for just a split second, it’s tangerine. Then, it’s ink black. The water temperature generally hovers around 60 degrees — perfect for a shoeless late-afternoon walk along the shore. (But tie a hoodie around your waist; the minute the sun dips, you’ll need it.)

Malibu boasts 27 public miles of sand, ranging from remote beaches (Lechuza Beach, off Broad Street, feels like a world away) to the bustling stretch in front of Nobu Ryokan. I kick off my shoes, don a swimsuit, grab a sweatshirt, and head out of my modest room, entering the beach via the gated staircase the hotel provides.

While almost all the beaches in Malibu are public, access can be highly contentious. Many faux-legal RIGHT TO PASS BY PERMISSION AND SUBJECT TO CONTROL OF OWNER signs are hung along the area’s beaches. I turned left and walked past an outpost of Soho House, then Nobu, both identical from shore, with patrons holding Aperol Spritzes and chopsticks, trying to get as close to the water as possible. I continued, the water teasing my ankles and slowly making my way closer to Carbon Beach and its celebrity occupants, like David Geffen. I observed two people in wetsuits wading into the water, diving in and swimming toward the horizon, chasing the retreating sun. The hoverboarder I’d seen earlier from my hotel room was back, zipping effortlessly across the waves.

The tide began to rise. There was less beach to walk on. Unable to find a public gate to return to the street, I turned back toward the Ryokan, just as the water crashed up to my knees, nearly toppling me over. My sweatshirt slipped from my grasp and fell into the water. As I struggled to retrieve it from the undertow, an Academy Award winner strolled by, nonchalantly smoking a joint.

“You need a wet suit instead of a hoodie, bro,” he said with a chuckle, as he continued on his way.

The Surfrider Malibu

There is one rooftop restaurant in Malibu, located at the Surfrider Hotel Malibu. However, much to the chagrin of the locals, it is only accessible to hotel guests. Originally opened in the 1950s, the hotel was named for Surfrider Beach across the street and its surfers. It underwent a complete transformation and reopened in 2017 under its current co-owners: architect Matthew Goodwin, his interior-designer wife Emma Crowther Goodwin, and their business partner Alessandro Zampedri. The atmosphere feels less like a hotel and more like a stylish television set, where within hours, you’ve made connections, crafted plans to surf, and gathered gossip to share over sardines on toast during happy hour.

Surely, the Surfrider is the only place in Los Angeles County where you can get a tarot card reading over ceviche, cocktails, and homemade peanut butter cookies. “Just breathe — that’s what the cards are telling you,” said the hotel’s brand manager Brittany Walsh, who moonlights as a tarot reader. Spreading four cards across the table, she told me, “You have everything you want. You just have to see it.”

Frederick Rindge conveyed similar sentiments to his wife May when he brought her to Malibu in 1892. The wealthy businessman had a vision to cultivate a ranch among the area’s canyons, yet the love they discovered for its natural resources surprised them. They continued to acquire more property, nurturing a dream that Malibu could one day rival the French Riviera. Their lives were dedicated (and fortune spent) battling fires, the Southern Pacific Railroad, Frederick’s health, and legal battles, all to protect the area’s natural beauty.

As I paddled into the Pacific, breathing deeply and reflecting on the air’s origins, the aroma of star jasmine filled the air. I navigated beneath the Pier, where Malibu Farm Café serves the best breakfast and offers stunning views. Above, the Property Brothers were filming an episode. “Welcome to paradise!” one of the twins shouted. But ahead of me, on the unseasonably warm waters, was the Surfrider’s Derek Savoie, who manages dual responsibilities as both a front-desk clerk and surf instructor.

Three dolphins leaped gracefully out of the water. Moments later, the water around my board began to swirl. Soon we found ourselves enveloped in a sardine “bait ball,” a phenomenon in which fish gather closely to evade predators. For 20 feet all around me, the water shimmered, reaching a boiling intensity. And then… calm.

“You gotta take a dunk,” Savoie insisted, breaking the tranquil silence. We plunged into the water; the coldness made me envy his wet suit. We floated on our boards as he advised, “Take it all in. We rarely appreciate this side of the street.” He referred to the right side — the mountains, canyons, and rocks. You genuinely need to be out on the water to admire the land’s beauty.

We observed the surfers. We gazed up at the hills adorned with trees, camper vans, and G-Wagons — which, from this viewpoint, were almost indistinguishable. “When I’m out here, I have to consciously remind myself to look back and look up,” he commented. “And breathe in what Malibu has to offer.”

Get into the Malibu State of Mind

Where to Stay

Hotel June Malibu: This boutique property enhances its 1950s-motel roots with a subtle Midcentury Modern aesthetic — complete with comforts like a heated pool.

Nobu Ryokan Malibu: An elite waterfront retreat that captures the essence of a traditional Japanese inn, featuring teak soaking tubs, custom linen yukata robes, and a tranquil interior courtyard. Perks include in-room dining from the eponymous restaurant and direct access to a pristine stretch of Carbon Beach.

The Surfrider Malibu: This modern beach house encapsulates California cool, showcasing all-neutral decor and a lively rooftop bar with breathtaking ocean views.

Where to Eat

Broad Street Oyster Co.: Locals head here to savor fresh seafood — including sought-after Santa Barbara sea urchins and an iconic lobster roll. While the patio buzzes with activity, many patrons prefer to use the drive-through and enjoy their meals at one of the nearby beaches.

Café Habana Malibu: Although the grilled corn and fish tacos are widely loved at this Mexican-Cuban eatery, the tequila cocktails are definitely the main attraction, making it a fitting spot owned by Casamigos co-founder Rande Gerber.

Malibu Brewing Co.: The upscale enclave’s first brewery features a taproom at Trancas Country Market where beer enthusiasts can sample classic selections (blonde ales, IPAs) and unique offerings like a Hatch green chile lager.

Malibu Farm Pier Café: This breezy restaurant at the end of the Malibu Pier is as famous for its ocean views as it is for its nutritious crowd-pleasers like cauliflower-crust pizza.

Where to Shop

Malibu Country Mart: There’s a high probability of celebrity sightings while strolling through the mart’s six acres, accentuated with boutiques from high-end brands like Vuori, Bleusalt, and Paige.