A 40-minute drive from Málaga on Spain’s southern coast, the Marbella Club has been a byword in glamour for the past 70 years. It’s still steeped in an evocative Slim Aarons vibe, recalling his photographs of men with teak George Hamilton tans and women in Pucci silks and Verdura chain necklaces.
I first stayed there 30 years ago, in a villa. It was set in lush gardens of oleander and bougainvillea, which climbed into the towering vegetation planted by founder Prince Alfonso de Hohenloe-Langenburg, a German-Spanish aristocrat who made Marbella a resort town.
