Four Seasons Hotel George V, Paris vs Four Seasons Surf Club

The George V costs what a palace hotel in the eighth costs, and for that money most people who actually check in get exactly what they came for: a newly renovated room with a Dyson dryer and blackout shades good enough to fix your jet lag, flower arrangements that turn up in almost every account without being asked about, and a restaurant floor (Le Cinq, L'Orangerie, the bar) that people describe as a destination rather than something you wander into because you're already staying there. The renovated rooms are the headline right now: guests who'd stayed before the refit say the difference is real, not cosmetic.

The staff stories from actual guests are specific in a way that's hard to manufacture: a family with young jet-lagged kids got handed a spare room before they had to ask, a full breakfast room got solved by opening L'Orangerie instead of making people wait, a regular has a standing hairdresser she won't see anyone else. That's the level this hotel is operating at for people who are checked in. Where it gets complicated is anyone treating the George V as a drop-in for tea or a restaurant booking without a room key – there's a real thread of visitors, not just one, describing a cold or condescending welcome at the door, and a separate, messier story about a guest whose negative review of that experience got pulled from a review site after the hotel disputed it. Neither of those things describes what happens once you're actually a guest, but they're worth knowing before you book a table rather than a room.

If you're staying, book it for the location and the renovated rooms, and go into dinner at Le Cinq expecting it to earn its reputation rather than coast on it.

No other hotel in Miami has this building: a restored 1930 prohibition-era beach club with coffered ceilings and arched corridors, a hotel and two residential towers grafted onto it by an owner who'd already had to buy the Palm Beach property because he wasn't allowed to build a rival next to his own club there. Under 80 rooms keeps the pools and beach genuinely uncrowded, and it's the detail travelers mention most, alongside staff who remember faces on a second visit: a front-desk regular named Patch, a pool bartender named Agustin who wished one guest a happy anniversary unasked. Thomas Keller's Surf Club restaurant is the other reason people book: guests call it a top-three Miami dining room.

Now the part worth pricing in properly. There's a real pattern of staff or security entering occupied rooms without warning, including a 2026 account of security walking into a guest's locked, dark room at night while they slept. Management's response was slow: a resort-credit offer, then a promised one-night refund that took over a month to arrive. Breakfast and brunch pricing draws steady frustration too: a $125 Sunday brunch that charges extra for coffee is a fair complaint, and a few recent guests found the food merely fine for what a Four Seasons should deliver. The Keller restaurant runs independently of the hotel, so no room charge, no guaranteed table, and bar service that's hit-or-miss. Surfside sits well north of South Beach, closer to Bal Harbour than the strip: restful if that's what you want, inconvenient if you came to eat around the city.

Book it for the building, the quiet, and the restaurant if you want the most old-world week Miami money buys and can live with an unresolved privacy lapse. Travelers chasing a livelier scene tend to land at Faena instead. For a calm, historic stretch of sand, nothing else in Miami is close.