The Many Golf Cultures of the Hamptons

The U.S. Open has always sold a particular idea about golf. More than any other major championship, it presents itself as the democratic one. Thousands of players enter qualifying every year, where regular people with day jobs tee it up alongside former major champions. In theory, anyone can earn their place.

For the sixth time, that championship has returned to Shinnecock Hills. It’s an interesting pairing: the most open tournament in golf taking place at one of the country’s most exclusive clubs.

That tension isn’t unique to Shinnecock, nor is it necessarily a criticism. In many ways, it’s part of what makes the club so compelling. Few places carry more architectural significance or cultural weight within American golf. But whenever the U.S. Open comes to the Hamptons, the conversation inevitably expands beyond the property line. Shinnecock is not just a single golf course in isolation, it’s part of a region that has become shorthand for a particular version of American wealth, taste and aspiration.

“Ironically, some of the courses out there that are the cheapest are the hardest to get into.”—Nick Annacone

Mention the Hamptons and most people picture the same thing: old money, sprawling estates and private clubs hidden behind hedges. And there is no doubt some truth to that image. Shinnecock, National Golf Links of America and Maidstone remain some of the most revered institutions in the country, where history stretches back more than a century and memberships are often shaped as much by family lineage as they are by spending power. The problem is that the stereotype has become so dominant that it obscures everything else happening around it.

“When you think courses out there, people think Shinnecock, National, Maidstone,” says Nick Annacone, an East Hampton native and member at Southampton Golf Club. “But there’s more to it than just that.”

Spend enough time in the Hamptons and a more nuanced picture begins to emerge. The area has always attracted wealth, but the composition of that wealth has changed. Entrepreneurs, creatives, athletes and founders have joined families who have spent generations summering out east. The villages themselves increasingly resemble extensions of downtown Manhattan during the warmer months, populated by many of the same brands, restaurants and cultural touchpoints that define life in the city. Golf has also evolved alongside it.

The quality of the golf is obviously part of the appeal. But what makes the Hamptons particularly interesting is how many different versions of golf coexist within the same geography. Within a relatively small stretch of eastern Long Island, you can find some of the most exclusive clubs in the world, some of the newest expressions of luxury golf and some of New York’s most beloved public and local golf communities. Annacone recognizes all three.

“There are definitely people that have a ton of money and can go pay an exorbitant initiation fee at Sebonack or The Bridge,” he says. “Then there’s people that have had homes there or had a life there for 100 years that are members of National, Shinnecock, Maidstone. Then you have Southampton, which was made by locals, for locals.”

It’s a more useful framework than the old-money versus new-money conversation that tends to dominate discussions about the Hamptons. Both exist, certainly. But neither fully explains what’s happening.

Take The Bridge, for example. Built on the site of the former Bridgehampton Race Circuit, the club has become one of the clearest examples of a newer Hamptons sensibility where art, architecture and hospitality play a central role in the experience. The clubhouse more like an extension of contemporary design culture rather than a love letter to golf’s traditions. Sebonack occupies a similar space, attracting members who may not have decades-long family ties to the area but are no less invested in making the Hamptons part of their lives. The barriers to entry are different, too.

“The hurdle with those places is more monetary,” Annacone says. “Ironically, some of the courses out there that are the cheapest are the hardest to get into.”

In many ways, that distinction gets to the heart of Hamptons golf. At certain clubs, legacy and relationships remain the primary currency. At others, the financial hurdle is more obvious. But as Annacone points out, money alone rarely guarantees access. Yet focusing exclusively on private clubs misses another side of the story entirely.

From an outsider looking into these clubs, a lot of them have changed vibe over the last 20 years.—Adam Scott

One of the more surprising themes that emerged while speaking with locals was how often they pointed toward places that rarely appear in national conversations. Montauk Downs, a public course at the eastern edge of the island. Sag Harbor Golf Course, a nine-hole municipal track. Southampton Golf Club, a Seth Raynor design that borders Shinnecock and remains one of the area’s most underrated architectural gems nearly a century after its founding.

“You kind of have everything,” Annacone says. “Montauk Downs is one of the better and more underrated golf courses on Long Island. Then you have Sag Harbor, which is a little muni nine-hole course. You kind of get all aspects.” That variety, rather than one singular concept, may be the defining characteristic of Hamptons golf in 2026.

From the outside, it’s easy to see only exclusivity. The proliferation of golf creators and club content has made places like Shinnecock and National more visible than ever, even if the experience itself remains largely inaccessible. But visibility and understanding are not the same thing. “I don’t think you can do those courses justice by what you see on social media,” Annacone says. “You get a sense, but you don’t get the full experience until you’re actually there.”

Interestingly though, he doesn’t see that exclusivity as entirely negative. “I do kind of think it’s cool to have a little secrecy,” he says. “They’re so steeped in tradition that I think it adds to the appeal and the allure of the courses.”

Adam Scott arrived at a similar conclusion from the outside looking in. The former Masters champion compares the Hamptons to other globally significant golf regions, mentioning Melbourne’s Sandbelt as a comparison. What surprised him, however, wasn’t the quality of the courses but how different the atmosphere felt from the stereotype. “A lot of the clubs are more traditional,” Scott says. “But from an outsider looking into these clubs, a lot of them have changed vibe over the last 20 years. Way more family-friendly and a little less stuffy than most might imagine.”

That observation feels particularly relevant as the U.S. Open returns to Shinnecock. The championship brings a familiar wave of spectators, sponsors, media and traffic to a region already operating near capacity. Roads are busier, restaurants are harder to get into and locals once again find themselves sharing their corner of Long Island with the rest of the golf world.

That transformation extends beyond the golf itself, because the tournament itself is no longer the only attraction. By Wednesday, much of the conversation had already shifted toward hospitality houses, brand activations and the broader social calendar surrounding the championship. Dewar’s, the Official Scotch Whisky of the U.S. Open, has spent the last five years leaning into that intersection. Its Lemon Wedge cocktail has become a fixture of championship week, evolving into something akin to the Honey Deuce at the U.S. Open tennis championships: a tournament-specific ritual that exists as much on social media as it does on tournament grounds.

But the tournament also creates a rare opportunity to look beyond the leaderboard. For one week, the world’s attention turns toward a corner of Long Island that has become one of golf’s most culturally significant regions. Legacy institutions that have changed remarkably little, new clubs embracing a different expression of luxury and public courses and local clubs that continue to serve the communities around them. The U.S. Open may be the reason people arrive. But the more interesting story is everything they find once they’re there.