He crafts notoriously private—and relentlessly buzzy—members-only clubs. His latest, San Vicente, is the hospitality visionary's first outpost on the East Coast.

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Jeff Klein of San Vicente
Photography by Aaron Stern

Jeff Klein rode the ’90s wave of boutique hotels through to the boom of private clubs, a riposte to social media’s guarantee of a glimpse into every room. The hotelier and restaurateur’s lodestar may be LA’s Sunset Tower Hotel, but his buzziest offspring is the East Coast expansion of his San Vicente social club.

What keeps you up at night?

Responsibility. I feel accountable to my members, my team, my investors—and to the standard I’ve set. Once you build something meaningful, you don’t get to coast.

What’s one work of art that got you through an important moment in your life?

Architecture has carried me through the most pivotal moments of my life. When I walk into a distressed property, I don’t see what it is; I see what it could become. Transformation has always grounded me. Turning a neglected space into somewhere people gather, create, and feel at home is deeply personal to me. The most important turning points in my life have sharpened that instinct rather than shaken it.

What do you think is your biggest contribution to culture?

Creating protected spaces for artists and thinkers to coexist—writers, actors, painters, musicians—without intrusion. Culture needs environments where people feel safe enough to take creative risks. I’m proud of building those rooms.

What do you want to see more of in your industry? Less of?

More conviction. More places that build from their own DNA instead of chasing trends. Less imitation. There’s too much copying and not enough soul.

What would you be doing if you weren’t working in your field?

Honestly, I can’t imagine doing anything else. I would still be building, just in a different form. Maybe chic senior living facilities?

Where do you feel most at home?

At one of my properties, late afternoon, martini in hand, fries on the table, and a make-your-own sundae for dessert. That ritual feels like completion.

What are you looking forward to this year?

I genuinely look forward to the daily ritual of creating—spaces, experiences, menus, etc. I don’t take that for granted. But personally, I’m especially excited for a birthday trip to Morocco with my husband. We’re going to Tangier, which feels romantic and cinematic in a way I love.

What’s something people get wrong about you?

People assume I’m simply “nice.” I’m warm, but I’m also exacting. Standards matter to me—and I enforce them.

Name an influence of yours that might surprise people.

My mother. She has impeccable taste and an unerring eye for quality. She taught me that discernment is a muscle. You either train it or you don’t.

When’s the last time you laughed hysterically?

Today. If you’re not laughing every day, you’re taking life too seriously.

What is your biggest vice? Your greatest virtue?

My vice is that I want people to feel happy and taken care of, sometimes to a fault. My greatest virtue is taste. I know when something is right, and I won’t compromise on it.

What would you like the headline of your obituary to be?

“He Built Rooms Where Shit Happened.”

What would you wear to meet your greatest enemy?

Something impeccably tailored. Probably my new Thom Sweeney suit with a simple T-shirt. Understated, sharp, controlled.

What’s been the hardest part of your career so far?

Raising capital for a vision that only exists in my head at first. Convincing others to see what doesn’t yet exist requires stamina.

What grounds you, and what invigorates you?

My husband and routine ground me. My domestic life is steady and secure. Genius invigorates me, in any field. When I encounter real originality or authenticity, it energizes me immediately.

To read more from the 2026 CULT100 honorees, see the full list here.

Keke Palmer

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