Florida is changing. If you drive down A1A these days, you’re mostly looking at glass-and-steel monoliths that look like they were designed by an algorithm obsessed with minimalism. But then there's the Colony Hotel and Cabana Club. It stands on Atlantic Avenue like a defiant, yellow-stuccoed thumbing of the nose at modern architecture. This isn't just a place to sleep; it’s a time capsule that breathes.
You walk through those front doors and the first thing you notice isn't a digital check-in kiosk. It's the air. It smells like old wood, sea salt, and maybe a hint of history that dates back to 1926. The lobby is massive. It’s filled with wicker furniture that actually looks comfortable and those iconic skylights that let the Florida sun pour in without feeling clinical. Honestly, it’s a vibe that most boutique hotels try to manufacture with fake "vintage" posters, but here, it’s just the reality.
The Architecture of a Mediterranean Fantasy
The Colony Hotel and Cabana Club was the brainchild of Martin L. Hampton. If that name doesn't ring a bell, he was an associate of Addison Mizner, the man basically responsible for making Florida look like a Spanish Mediterranean fever dream. Hampton didn't want a skyscraper. He wanted something that felt like a grand residence.
He succeeded.
The twin domes of the hotel are landmarks in Delray Beach. They’ve survived hurricanes, economic busts, and the slow creep of gentrification. While other historic buildings were torn down to make room for luxury condos with "infinity pools" that are basically glorified bathtubs, the Colony stayed put. It’s been owned and operated by the same family—the Borthwicks—since 1935. Think about that for a second. In an era where Marriott or Hilton buys everything that isn't bolted down, three generations of one family have kept this place running. That kind of continuity is why the staff knows the names of people who have been coming here for forty years. It’s not "hospitality industry" talk. It’s just how they do things.
The Original Florida Experience
Most people today expect central AC that hums at a steady 68 degrees. The Colony is different. During the winter season, which is when the hotel truly shines, they often rely on the natural breeze. The rooms have those wonderful casement windows. You open them up, and you hear the life of Atlantic Avenue below—the distant music, the chatter, the sound of a town that actually has a heartbeat.
The furniture in the rooms is mostly original. We’re talking hand-painted pieces from the 1920s. Is it "luxury" in the way a Ritz-Carlton is luxury? No. There are no marble-topped iPads in the bathroom. But it’s authentic. It’s the difference between buying a mass-produced "distressed" table from a big-box store and owning a desk that your grandfather actually used to write letters.
The Cabana Club: A Private Slice of the Atlantic
The hotel itself is on the main drag, about a mile from the ocean. That might seem like a dealbreaker until you realize the second half of the name: the Cabana Club.
A private shuttle—often a quirky, open-air vehicle—takes you from the hotel lobby down to the shore. This is where the "Cabana Club" part of the Colony Hotel and Cabana Club comes alive. It’s a private beach club for guests. It has a saltwater pool that is heated naturally by the sun and cooled by the Atlantic breeze.
What's wild about the Cabana Club is the layout. It’s not just a row of chairs on the sand. It’s a sprawling complex with changing rooms, a dining area, and a sense of privacy that is almost impossible to find on public Florida beaches anymore. You can spend the whole day there, eating lunch with your feet practically in the sand, and then head back to the hotel for a cocktail in the lobby bar.
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Sustainability Before it Was a Marketing Term
People talk about "green" hotels now like it’s a new invention. The Borthwick family was doing this decades ago, mostly because it made sense. They use native plants. They don't over-air-condition. They’ve preserved the original structure rather than gutting it and filling it with plastic. The hotel is a member of the Florida Green Lodging Program, and they actually take it seriously. It’s about stewardship. If you own a piece of history, you don't just use it; you look after it for the people who haven't been born yet.
What Most People Get Wrong About "Historic" Hotels
There’s a common misconception that "old" means "decrepit." If you go into the Colony expecting the sterile perfection of a new-build Marriott, you might be surprised by the creak of a floorboard or the manual elevator. Yes, there is a manual elevator. It’s one of the last ones in the state. An operator actually turns a handle to level the car with the floor.
It’s slow.
It’s deliberate.
It’s wonderful.
In our world of instant gratification and 5G speeds, being forced to wait thirty seconds for an elevator while chatting with a friendly operator is a radical act. It slows your heart rate down. It reminds you that you’re on vacation.
The Social Scene at the Colony
The lobby bar is where the magic happens. It’s not a "club" with thumping bass. It’s a place for conversation. You’ll see locals who have lived in Delray for fifty years sitting next to a young couple from New York who stumbled upon the place on Instagram.
The music is usually live. Maybe a jazz pianist or a local singer-songwriter. It’s the kind of place where you can actually hear the person sitting across from you. The cocktails aren't overpriced "molecular gastronomy" experiments; they’re solid, classic drinks made by people who know how to pour a gin and tonic.
Why Delray Beach Needs the Colony
Delray has changed a lot. It went from a quiet village to a "Destination" with a capital D. Atlantic Avenue is now lined with high-end boutiques and restaurants that wouldn't look out of place in Beverly Hills.
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The Colony Hotel and Cabana Club acts as the town’s anchor. It prevents the Avenue from becoming a generic outdoor mall. Because the hotel is so central and so large, its aesthetic dictates the vibe of the whole block. It keeps things grounded. It reminds everyone that Delray was once a place of pineapple plantations and artists, not just a place for "see and be seen" nightlife.
Real Talk on the Room Situation
Let’s be honest: if you need a giant 70-inch 4K TV and a bathroom with fourteen different showerheads, you might want to look elsewhere. The rooms at the Colony are cozy. They reflect the era they were built in—a time when people spent their days at the beach or in the lobby, not staring at a screen in bed.
The bathrooms are often small. The closets aren't walk-ins. But the beds are comfortable, the linens are high-quality, and the view out the window of the Mediterranean rooftops and the swaying palms is better than any Netflix show.
Practical Advice for Your Visit
If you’re planning a stay, keep a few things in mind. The hotel is seasonal. While it stays open, the "peak" experience is definitely during the winter and spring months when the Cabana Club is in full swing and the weather allows for those open-window nights.
- Book the Shuttle: Don’t bother trying to park at the beach. It’s a nightmare. The hotel shuttle is part of the charm. Use it.
- Hit the Cabana Club for Lunch: Their gazpacho and club sandwiches are legendary. There’s something about eating a sandwich while watching the Atlantic waves that makes it taste better.
- Explore the Lobby: Spend at least one evening just sitting in the lobby. Don't look at your phone. Just watch the people. It’s some of the best people-watching in Florida.
- Walk Everywhere: You are in the heart of Delray. You don't need a car once you’re at the hotel. Everything—the galleries, the restaurants, the Old School Square—is within a ten-minute walk.
The Environmental Impact
The hotel’s commitment to the environment isn't just about towels. They’ve integrated bird-friendly glass and work closely with local conservation groups. Because the Cabana Club sits right on the beach, they are on the front lines of sea turtle nesting season. They manage their lighting to ensure hatchlings head toward the ocean, not toward the hotel lights.
The Cultural Significance of the Borthwick Legacy
It’s rare to find a business that hasn't sold its soul. The Borthwicks have had plenty of offers to sell. Developers would love to turn this property into a modern luxury tower. But they stay. They stay because they understand that the Colony is part of the identity of Delray Beach.
When you stay here, you’re supporting that choice. You’re voting with your wallet for "weird" over "corporate." You’re choosing a creaky elevator over a sleek one because the creaky one has a story to tell.
The Colony Hotel and Cabana Club isn't for everyone. It’s for people who want to feel like they’ve actually gone somewhere, rather than just moved to a different zip code. It’s for the travelers who value a hand-painted headboard over a smart-home interface.
It’s Florida, the way it used to be, and—if we’re lucky—the way it will stay for another hundred years.
Actionable Steps for the Modern Traveler
If you want to experience this without staying overnight, you can still visit.
- Visit for a Drink: Stop by the lobby bar on a Friday night. It’s the best way to soak in the atmosphere without committing to a room.
- Check the Event Calendar: They often host community events, art shows, and local gatherings.
- Walk the Property: Even from the sidewalk, the architecture is worth a look. Notice the detail in the stucco and the specific shade of yellow that has become synonymous with the hotel.
- Support Local: While you're there, visit the independent shops on the surrounding blocks. The Colony thrives when the local ecosystem thrives.
The real magic of the Colony isn't in a specific amenity. It's in the feeling you get when you realize you don't have to rush. The world outside is moving at a million miles an hour, but inside these yellow walls, the clocks seem to tick just a little bit slower. That’s not a bug; it’s the main feature.