Best Of Miami® 2004 Winners
Bars & Clubs
A Mediterranean restaurant by day is transformed by night, becoming party central for the Young Turks among Miami's people from Turkey, who, for those keeping tabs, are giving the Russians a run for their rubles as the area's most exotic party animals from the Old World. An eclectic mix of dance beats, including the increasingly popular Arab house music, keeps the floor teeming with recent arrivals not only from Turkey but most of Eastern Europe looking for a club of their own on the edge of a strip mall, away from South Beach. The café-cum-nightclub also draws more commonplace minglers from Spain, France, and South America. They dance and dream of apprenticeships with Donald Trump, whose new luxury high-rise project looms right across the avenue, casting the shadow of raw American capitalism across the entire affair.
A Mediterranean restaurant by day is transformed by night, becoming party central for the Young Turks among Miami's people from Turkey, who, for those keeping tabs, are giving the Russians a run for their rubles as the area's most exotic party animals from the Old World. An eclectic mix of dance beats, including the increasingly popular Arab house music, keeps the floor teeming with recent arrivals not only from Turkey but most of Eastern Europe looking for a club of their own on the edge of a strip mall, away from South Beach. The café-cum-nightclub also draws more commonplace minglers from Spain, France, and South America. They dance and dream of apprenticeships with Donald Trump, whose new luxury high-rise project looms right across the avenue, casting the shadow of raw American capitalism across the entire affair.
Favela Chic, which we might quite liberally translate as "ghetto fabulous," takes its name from a Brazilian nightlife trend in which the hip, educated, and employed plunge into Rio shantytowns, where the downtrodden, streetwise, and dirt poor know how to party away woes. If you're looking for a quiet, candle-lighted ambiance, slip into this place before 11:00 p.m., especially on Fridays and Saturdays. After that the restaurant/lounge tends to start imitating the high-spirited, caipirinha-fueled, arm-waving, butt-wiggling displays of revelry that lured the well-heeled across the tracks and into the fabled favelas to find a girl from Ipanema, at least figuratively. There is no charge to enter this elegant North Beach shanty either, but those inside will have an easy time taking five of your (date's) hard-earned dollars for a beer or eight bucks for a caipirinha (a lime-flavored cocktail made in Brazil with cachaça, in North Beach with vodka). Owner and DJ Roberto Costa, who has rocked dance floors from Saint-Tropez on the Mediterranean to Jimmy'z on Arthur Godfrey Drive, provides musical mixes of house, samba, salsa, and Arabic. Yes, Arabic.
Favela Chic, which we might quite liberally translate as "ghetto fabulous," takes its name from a Brazilian nightlife trend in which the hip, educated, and employed plunge into Rio shantytowns, where the downtrodden, streetwise, and dirt poor know how to party away woes. If you're looking for a quiet, candle-lighted ambiance, slip into this place before 11:00 p.m., especially on Fridays and Saturdays. After that the restaurant/lounge tends to start imitating the high-spirited, caipirinha-fueled, arm-waving, butt-wiggling displays of revelry that lured the well-heeled across the tracks and into the fabled favelas to find a girl from Ipanema, at least figuratively. There is no charge to enter this elegant North Beach shanty either, but those inside will have an easy time taking five of your (date's) hard-earned dollars for a beer or eight bucks for a caipirinha (a lime-flavored cocktail made in Brazil with cachaça, in North Beach with vodka). Owner and DJ Roberto Costa, who has rocked dance floors from Saint-Tropez on the Mediterranean to Jimmy'z on Arthur Godfrey Drive, provides musical mixes of house, samba, salsa, and Arabic. Yes, Arabic.
A decade ago Miami was the reggae gateway to the United States. On any given weekend major acts like Third World, Inner Circle, or the Kinsey Report could be found playing in a park or at a club. Even Africa-based reggae stars (e.g. Alpha Blondy) came to play at the old Cameo on South Beach. Today there is not one club in Miami devoted to staging high-grade (or even mediocre) reggae acts. The spiritual, danceable, durable genre is dead to this town. Fortunately, right at the county line the Empire recently conducted a sort of three-beat charrette (with the Caribbean Association and reps from local universities) to improve and expand its already established mix of reggae and hip-hop weekends (mostly featuring DJs, though some bands have played the 400-capacity club). After the meeting, and following policy (any promoters are welcome to offer their product to the club, and many are accepted), the Empire plans to book more and more live reggae. Besides the joy that news brings to many hearts and minds (and ears), it should make the owners rich considering the sickening lack of competition. Robert Nesta must be spinning as he looks down on the city where he died and sees (or hears, really) -- not much.
A decade ago Miami was the reggae gateway to the United States. On any given weekend major acts like Third World, Inner Circle, or the Kinsey Report could be found playing in a park or at a club. Even Africa-based reggae stars (e.g. Alpha Blondy) came to play at the old Cameo on South Beach. Today there is not one club in Miami devoted to staging high-grade (or even mediocre) reggae acts. The spiritual, danceable, durable genre is dead to this town. Fortunately, right at the county line the Empire recently conducted a sort of three-beat charrette (with the Caribbean Association and reps from local universities) to improve and expand its already established mix of reggae and hip-hop weekends (mostly featuring DJs, though some bands have played the 400-capacity club). After the meeting, and following policy (any promoters are welcome to offer their product to the club, and many are accepted), the Empire plans to book more and more live reggae. Besides the joy that news brings to many hearts and minds (and ears), it should make the owners rich considering the sickening lack of competition. Robert Nesta must be spinning as he looks down on the city where he died and sees (or hears, really) -- not much.
The best neighborhood bar is the one closest to home, but Bougainvillea's, a snug "old Florida Tavern" near Sunset Place, makes a bit of travel pay off. Built inside a Forties-era cottage and open about four years, it's a fine place to sip wine and contemplate humanity, or down a beer and contemplate your navel. Actually, just drink and contemplate if you choose. The lights are generally dim, there's a fireplace, and some tables are set up outside (got a light?). And it's one of the few neighborhood bars to feature three or four nights per week of live jazz or blues music.
The best neighborhood bar is the one closest to home, but Bougainvillea's, a snug "old Florida Tavern" near Sunset Place, makes a bit of travel pay off. Built inside a Forties-era cottage and open about four years, it's a fine place to sip wine and contemplate humanity, or down a beer and contemplate your navel. Actually, just drink and contemplate if you choose. The lights are generally dim, there's a fireplace, and some tables are set up outside (got a light?). And it's one of the few neighborhood bars to feature three or four nights per week of live jazz or blues music.
This two-story, suburban drinkery is one of North Miami's most happening joints. It's an off-the-beaten-path destination situated next to a supermarket, but it's mostly round-the-way peeps who ride out there anyway, so the surroundings ain't no thing. Hip-hop and R&B reign here, and WMIB-FM (103.5) the Beat's DJ JS1 keeps it bumping for the young neighborhood "jits" until 5:00 a.m., occasionally extending those hours if the crowd calls for extra party time. A definite break from South Beach and Coconut Grove, though the unwelcome apple martini drinker might find it too far from the glitz and glam for comfort. All the better for the locals.
This two-story, suburban drinkery is one of North Miami's most happening joints. It's an off-the-beaten-path destination situated next to a supermarket, but it's mostly round-the-way peeps who ride out there anyway, so the surroundings ain't no thing. Hip-hop and R&B reign here, and WMIB-FM (103.5) the Beat's DJ JS1 keeps it bumping for the young neighborhood "jits" until 5:00 a.m., occasionally extending those hours if the crowd calls for extra party time. A definite break from South Beach and Coconut Grove, though the unwelcome apple martini drinker might find it too far from the glitz and glam for comfort. All the better for the locals.
There's an old rule for judging restaurants when you're outside the hood. If the parking lot is full, eat there. If the food sucked, there wouldn't be a crowd (and vice versa, of course). This place packs 'em in without giving up its Cheers-like friendliness. The clients might lean toward the corporate side, but the staff at this watering hole possesses an uncanny talent for pushing just the right buttons. Is this place all about the number of TV sets and that "modern sports bar" feel? Hell, no. Just ask and, with a merry smile and cheery tongue-wipe to remove the foam from his or her upper lip, a regular will dial you in: "Five beers for five bucks." Ka-ching -- we got a winner.
There's an old rule for judging restaurants when you're outside the hood. If the parking lot is full, eat there. If the food sucked, there wouldn't be a crowd (and vice versa, of course). This place packs 'em in without giving up its Cheers-like friendliness. The clients might lean toward the corporate side, but the staff at this watering hole possesses an uncanny talent for pushing just the right buttons. Is this place all about the number of TV sets and that "modern sports bar" feel? Hell, no. Just ask and, with a merry smile and cheery tongue-wipe to remove the foam from his or her upper lip, a regular will dial you in: "Five beers for five bucks." Ka-ching -- we got a winner.
The Chamber Lounge provides an oasis to escape the Miami Beach nightclub scene. Though it's close to the clubs, it's not a club at all. Not even close. "Nightclub" implies loud music, flashing lights, obnoxious door guards, and clientele worried about making the scene in the oh-so-proper attire. At the Chamber, you're there to have a drink and perhaps engage in light conversation with friends and strangers. Mostly you're there to have a drink. The friendly bartenders act like real bartenders, doling out stiff drinks and sound advice to help you alleviate the day's tribulations. The atmosphere could be Anybar in Anywhere, U.S.A., but the décor looks like the remnants of the cocktail heyday during the Sixties and Seventies. The patrons themselves run the gamut: Middle-age barflies to hipsters, all are welcome and the informed come.
The Chamber Lounge provides an oasis to escape the Miami Beach nightclub scene. Though it's close to the clubs, it's not a club at all. Not even close. "Nightclub" implies loud music, flashing lights, obnoxious door guards, and clientele worried about making the scene in the oh-so-proper attire. At the Chamber, you're there to have a drink and perhaps engage in light conversation with friends and strangers. Mostly you're there to have a drink. The friendly bartenders act like real bartenders, doling out stiff drinks and sound advice to help you alleviate the day's tribulations. The atmosphere could be Anybar in Anywhere, U.S.A., but the décor looks like the remnants of the cocktail heyday during the Sixties and Seventies. The patrons themselves run the gamut: Middle-age barflies to hipsters, all are welcome and the informed come.
Though there's a spacious interior dining room and restaurant cuisine served on the Commodore Plaza side of the walkway, the real scene for veteran Grovites -- as well as others who come from all around to rubberneck and be seen -- is the Greenstreet bar. This is a real bar-bar, with stools lined up and facing a bank of sports-oriented TV screens, plus a few high tables and cozy settees at which to settle, enjoy one of Greenstreet's many wine selections or a generously poured cocktail. Folks with dogs, neighborhood pickup soccer teams, singles reading books and nibbling calamari as well as muscular bikers are all equally prevalent -- and welcome at this oasis on the corner of Main and Commodore. It doesn't take long to become a regular, and before you know it, Greenstreet, under canopy of banyans, blocks in geography but miles in psychology away from nearby CocoWalk, is your local.
Though there's a spacious interior dining room and restaurant cuisine served on the Commodore Plaza side of the walkway, the real scene for veteran Grovites -- as well as others who come from all around to rubberneck and be seen -- is the Greenstreet bar. This is a real bar-bar, with stools lined up and facing a bank of sports-oriented TV screens, plus a few high tables and cozy settees at which to settle, enjoy one of Greenstreet's many wine selections or a generously poured cocktail. Folks with dogs, neighborhood pickup soccer teams, singles reading books and nibbling calamari as well as muscular bikers are all equally prevalent -- and welcome at this oasis on the corner of Main and Commodore. It doesn't take long to become a regular, and before you know it, Greenstreet, under canopy of banyans, blocks in geography but miles in psychology away from nearby CocoWalk, is your local.
There's something surreal about the light reflected off Biscayne Bay and into the thatch-roof shade of Scotty's. Maybe it's a combination of the sea air and the proximity to another vortex of surreality, Miami's city hall. It can be accessed only from the water, or by threading one's way through the edge of a boat yard. Hiding behind the marina, this place has managed to largely escape the gentrification of Coconut Grove, and thus remains a haven of fringe characters (and that's not only the commissioners who come over from next door). Each afternoon and evening, denizens of the floating world at Miami's eastern edge trickle in to slump on barstools and share increasingly unlikely stories about their adventures. Shrimpers and boat mechanics, ship captains and hired hands, refugees from the anchorage, weekend sailors, and the occasional Coastie tired of the South Beach scene convene for the casual atmosphere, primo food, and booze galore. As long as the breeze blows, the drinks flow, and the light shimmers in the heat, this is the place salts go to let the wind out of their sails.
There's something surreal about the light reflected off Biscayne Bay and into the thatch-roof shade of Scotty's. Maybe it's a combination of the sea air and the proximity to another vortex of surreality, Miami's city hall. It can be accessed only from the water, or by threading one's way through the edge of a boat yard. Hiding behind the marina, this place has managed to largely escape the gentrification of Coconut Grove, and thus remains a haven of fringe characters (and that's not only the commissioners who come over from next door). Each afternoon and evening, denizens of the floating world at Miami's eastern edge trickle in to slump on barstools and share increasingly unlikely stories about their adventures. Shrimpers and boat mechanics, ship captains and hired hands, refugees from the anchorage, weekend sailors, and the occasional Coastie tired of the South Beach scene convene for the casual atmosphere, primo food, and booze galore. As long as the breeze blows, the drinks flow, and the light shimmers in the heat, this is the place salts go to let the wind out of their sails.
There is something about the spirit in this little club on Calle Ocho that will not die. Change owners, change the name, change the musical attraction: no matter. Two years of the wild success of the now-defunct weekly Fuácata party allowed the club to expand, with more spacious seating in the front and an intimate lounge in the back. The club has played host to many a marooned talent, from Albita to Carlos Averhoff to Malena Burke, insufficiently appreciated in other quarters. Regular parties come and go with a pleasant ebb and flow: Conjunto Progreso stirred up Sunday evenings for a time; Palo currently sizzles on Thursdays. Every other Wednesday celebrates the talents of local songwriters. Intriguing visitors are always welcome, from adventurous belly dancers to itinerant groove meisters like this year's favorite, Siete Rayo. There's no way to know exactly what awaits when you push past Hoy Como Ayer's heavy wooden door. Patrons can be sure only that they will be happy they came.
There is something about the spirit in this little club on Calle Ocho that will not die. Change owners, change the name, change the musical attraction: no matter. Two years of the wild success of the now-defunct weekly Fuácata party allowed the club to expand, with more spacious seating in the front and an intimate lounge in the back. The club has played host to many a marooned talent, from Albita to Carlos Averhoff to Malena Burke, insufficiently appreciated in other quarters. Regular parties come and go with a pleasant ebb and flow: Conjunto Progreso stirred up Sunday evenings for a time; Palo currently sizzles on Thursdays. Every other Wednesday celebrates the talents of local songwriters. Intriguing visitors are always welcome, from adventurous belly dancers to itinerant groove meisters like this year's favorite, Siete Rayo. There's no way to know exactly what awaits when you push past Hoy Como Ayer's heavy wooden door. Patrons can be sure only that they will be happy they came.
If it were up to South Pointe residents, there would be no wild nights at Opium Garden or its upstairs VIP playpen, called Prive. The venue's open-air structure doesn't exactly qualify as soundproof, so it's not only the party people inside who are staying up all night listening to loud music. Every weekend herds of nocturnal creatures crowd the entrances of the club, with the hope that one of the snooty French doormen will grant entry. So what is it about this place, besides platinum bodies and plush décor, that attracts so many A-listers and wannabes? Lots of celebrities. Of all SoBe institutions, this is where your spastic movements are most likely to lead into a rub with some star or another. As you trip the light fantastic, you may stumble upon Paris Hilton (getting down with Ingrid Casares), Anika Kournikova (tending bar while wearing just enough fabric to cover her personal parts), or Kid Rock (throwing down an impromptu performance from the DJ booth). It's like 1975 all over again, so dance, dance, dance.
If it were up to South Pointe residents, there would be no wild nights at Opium Garden or its upstairs VIP playpen, called Prive. The venue's open-air structure doesn't exactly qualify as soundproof, so it's not only the party people inside who are staying up all night listening to loud music. Every weekend herds of nocturnal creatures crowd the entrances of the club, with the hope that one of the snooty French doormen will grant entry. So what is it about this place, besides platinum bodies and plush décor, that attracts so many A-listers and wannabes? Lots of celebrities. Of all SoBe institutions, this is where your spastic movements are most likely to lead into a rub with some star or another. As you trip the light fantastic, you may stumble upon Paris Hilton (getting down with Ingrid Casares), Anika Kournikova (tending bar while wearing just enough fabric to cover her personal parts), or Kid Rock (throwing down an impromptu performance from the DJ booth). It's like 1975 all over again, so dance, dance, dance.
Playing frustrated author and original club kid James St. James in 2003's Party Monster, Seth Green proved to be a consummate method actor with range far beyond sassing his dad about the Alan Parsons Project as Scott Evil in the Austin Powers franchise. With skin so milky and translucent that his veins show, Titian-toned hair, and golden irises offset by fans of marigold eyelashes, Seth is ethereal eye candy -- and a mec formidable, too. Mr. Green tore up the slopes and the clubs in Park City at the Party Monster debut during the Sundance Film Festival. It would be cool to hang out with Seth in Miami, but where to take the apricot-hued sex god? Not to a Heat game, but someplace hot. Ah! An excursion to Jakmel, where Jude "Papaloko" Thegenus opens his art exhibitions with a blessing ceremony in his gallery's colorful, vodou-inspired back yard. Dancing, along with consumption of large amounts of Barbancourt, follows. Now, don't go collapsing onto the pixie-size thespian. Keep a respectful forearm's length between each other, sway along with the palm fronds, then become trapped in those pools of amber. Shall you shag now, or later? Be careful, or you'll get cross-mojo-lation, and heads will explode.
Playing frustrated author and original club kid James St. James in 2003's Party Monster, Seth Green proved to be a consummate method actor with range far beyond sassing his dad about the Alan Parsons Project as Scott Evil in the Austin Powers franchise. With skin so milky and translucent that his veins show, Titian-toned hair, and golden irises offset by fans of marigold eyelashes, Seth is ethereal eye candy -- and a mec formidable, too. Mr. Green tore up the slopes and the clubs in Park City at the Party Monster debut during the Sundance Film Festival. It would be cool to hang out with Seth in Miami, but where to take the apricot-hued sex god? Not to a Heat game, but someplace hot. Ah! An excursion to Jakmel, where Jude "Papaloko" Thegenus opens his art exhibitions with a blessing ceremony in his gallery's colorful, vodou-inspired back yard. Dancing, along with consumption of large amounts of Barbancourt, follows. Now, don't go collapsing onto the pixie-size thespian. Keep a respectful forearm's length between each other, sway along with the palm fronds, then become trapped in those pools of amber. Shall you shag now, or later? Be careful, or you'll get cross-mojo-lation, and heads will explode.
Incorporating everything from the frightening to the fabulous, Twist roars on. In July the late-night watering hole completes eleven years as South Beach's reigning queer party place. In that time it's endured failed competition from countless gay bars that sprouted up, then withered. That puts Twist into the sphere of the old reliable, a regular lounge for fun and more fun. (The "more" is up to you, but please use protection.) Recently the smaller hip-hop space on the second floor has been the most festive of Twist's seven rooms, with drag shows and young boys and girls partying the night into day. The main room still trudges along with its mix of house music, jungle beats, and a dimly lighted dance floor perfect for groping. Still the back bungalow bar -- where underwear-clad muscle boys rub up against you for a dollar -- remains the top investment of time here. Whichever room you choose, know that Twist keeps rocking until 5:00 a.m. and the later it gets, the better.
Incorporating everything from the frightening to the fabulous, Twist roars on. In July the late-night watering hole completes eleven years as South Beach's reigning queer party place. In that time it's endured failed competition from countless gay bars that sprouted up, then withered. That puts Twist into the sphere of the old reliable, a regular lounge for fun and more fun. (The "more" is up to you, but please use protection.) Recently the smaller hip-hop space on the second floor has been the most festive of Twist's seven rooms, with drag shows and young boys and girls partying the night into day. The main room still trudges along with its mix of house music, jungle beats, and a dimly lighted dance floor perfect for groping. Still the back bungalow bar -- where underwear-clad muscle boys rub up against you for a dollar -- remains the top investment of time here. Whichever room you choose, know that Twist keeps rocking until 5:00 a.m. and the later it gets, the better.
The categorical appellation may call up visions of tony saloons where moneyed patrons drink top-shelf scotch, shoot straight pool on a full-size table with clean green felt stretching veldtlike bumper-to-bumper. Or maybe the old neighborhood watering hole, where the regulars gather nightly to cheer and weep for the home team before stumbling out as brothers in arms (literally). Forget those. Hooligan's maintains a chain-franchise feel, and, even more shocking, the South Dade location is in (gasp!) a strip mall. But the paradox on the highway satisfies more-important requisites, those of proles: a spacious tavern (caveat: beware drunk-ass karaoke near the Raw Bar) perfect for sitting with a shot of rail bourbon and a sweating bottle of Bud. Relaxation increases with the sounds of clientele: Pinecrest locals and rambling bikers next to backward-ball-cap-wearing UM jocks, everyone cursing Wannstedt or Fiedler. Later, visit distractions for short attention spans, including video games, less-than-perfect pool tables, a kickin' jukebox, and television sets aplenty.
The categorical appellation may call up visions of tony saloons where moneyed patrons drink top-shelf scotch, shoot straight pool on a full-size table with clean green felt stretching veldtlike bumper-to-bumper. Or maybe the old neighborhood watering hole, where the regulars gather nightly to cheer and weep for the home team before stumbling out as brothers in arms (literally). Forget those. Hooligan's maintains a chain-franchise feel, and, even more shocking, the South Dade location is in (gasp!) a strip mall. But the paradox on the highway satisfies more-important requisites, those of proles: a spacious tavern (caveat: beware drunk-ass karaoke near the Raw Bar) perfect for sitting with a shot of rail bourbon and a sweating bottle of Bud. Relaxation increases with the sounds of clientele: Pinecrest locals and rambling bikers next to backward-ball-cap-wearing UM jocks, everyone cursing Wannstedt or Fiedler. Later, visit distractions for short attention spans, including video games, less-than-perfect pool tables, a kickin' jukebox, and television sets aplenty.
Segafredo is a place for cocktails, period. It's not the bar of some hotel or restaurant, which are, in effect, expensive waiting rooms where diners are damn near forced to buy drinks as the clock ticks on. Segafredo is not some club masquerading as a "lounge," devoid of people until it's late enough and the music's loud enough. Segafredo is no smoky, rowdy, low-rent gin joint. No, gentle elbow benders, Segafredo has no other intent than to allow you to imbibe a cocktail at your leisure while you behave yourself in a peaceful and elegant setting. This is a place for adults to relax while watching the crowd move by on Lincoln Road. Drinks are well made (try the Negroni -- gin, Campari, and sweet vermouth), and, for the Beach, decently priced at $7.50. Because of its specificity of purpose, you don't feel pressured to order food (although they do offer tasteful appetizers). Owners Graziano Sbroggio and Mark Soyka, and general manager Luca Voltarel, have kept the place humming for four years now, even as the building the bar is attached to is being demolished.
Segafredo is a place for cocktails, period. It's not the bar of some hotel or restaurant, which are, in effect, expensive waiting rooms where diners are damn near forced to buy drinks as the clock ticks on. Segafredo is not some club masquerading as a "lounge," devoid of people until it's late enough and the music's loud enough. Segafredo is no smoky, rowdy, low-rent gin joint. No, gentle elbow benders, Segafredo has no other intent than to allow you to imbibe a cocktail at your leisure while you behave yourself in a peaceful and elegant setting. This is a place for adults to relax while watching the crowd move by on Lincoln Road. Drinks are well made (try the Negroni -- gin, Campari, and sweet vermouth), and, for the Beach, decently priced at $7.50. Because of its specificity of purpose, you don't feel pressured to order food (although they do offer tasteful appetizers). Owners Graziano Sbroggio and Mark Soyka, and general manager Luca Voltarel, have kept the place humming for four years now, even as the building the bar is attached to is being demolished.
What makes a VIP room very important is not what kind of champagne is served, or how much room one has to boogie in, or even how much privacy is afforded the club druggies. No, what really matters is how long a wait people will put up with to get in. The hep cats at Mynt have made an art out of handling the door in this rude manner, creating an entire club that feels like one big VIP room. That first velvet rope -- illegally placed on public property or not -- is a bitch to get past, but inside celebs are a dime a dozen and everyone else, um, well, got past the door monkeys out front. Money, fame, and charm are the minimum requirements to get in. Patrons will quickly learn that beauty is the ultimate currency to grease the palms of the guardians of the entrance. That's the way it goes when an entire club is a VIP room. Unless you go someplace else.
What makes a VIP room very important is not what kind of champagne is served, or how much room one has to boogie in, or even how much privacy is afforded the club druggies. No, what really matters is how long a wait people will put up with to get in. The hep cats at Mynt have made an art out of handling the door in this rude manner, creating an entire club that feels like one big VIP room. That first velvet rope -- illegally placed on public property or not -- is a bitch to get past, but inside celebs are a dime a dozen and everyone else, um, well, got past the door monkeys out front. Money, fame, and charm are the minimum requirements to get in. Patrons will quickly learn that beauty is the ultimate currency to grease the palms of the guardians of the entrance. That's the way it goes when an entire club is a VIP room. Unless you go someplace else.
Eclectic. That's the adjective to describe the type of people who frequent Starlite Diner, and to describe the perfect crowd for this fad that will not die. There's "Roxy," age fifteen. Hidden inside the Kendall Village Plaza, under the mask of night, she and some of her fellow Narcotics Anonymous group members are huddled, pounding cheap drinks and perusing the long list of songs. On the stage, four gay frat boys eat it up as the large audience goes crazy over their performance. (Suggested name for this group should it seek stardom: The Four Gay Frat Boys.) In the bathroom -- beyond the Fifties-style décor that reminds one of a more innocent time -- a waiter from the restaurant across the way is being arrested (bench warrant). He was holed up in a stall with two girls snorting coke. An angry boyfriend of one of the girls has called the cops, and in a few moments they're taking Powder Nose away in cuffs -- just as Karaoke Ben, the emcee, is calling for the jailbird to perform a rendition of Vanilla Ice's "Ice Ice Baby." Now that's karaoke.
Eclectic. That's the adjective to describe the type of people who frequent Starlite Diner, and to describe the perfect crowd for this fad that will not die. There's "Roxy," age fifteen. Hidden inside the Kendall Village Plaza, under the mask of night, she and some of her fellow Narcotics Anonymous group members are huddled, pounding cheap drinks and perusing the long list of songs. On the stage, four gay frat boys eat it up as the large audience goes crazy over their performance. (Suggested name for this group should it seek stardom: The Four Gay Frat Boys.) In the bathroom -- beyond the Fifties-style décor that reminds one of a more innocent time -- a waiter from the restaurant across the way is being arrested (bench warrant). He was holed up in a stall with two girls snorting coke. An angry boyfriend of one of the girls has called the cops, and in a few moments they're taking Powder Nose away in cuffs -- just as Karaoke Ben, the emcee, is calling for the jailbird to perform a rendition of Vanilla Ice's "Ice Ice Baby." Now that's karaoke.
Brooklyn transplant DJ LS One has spun for numerous rap stars over the past decade, including Onyx and DMX. These days, however, he merely takes the good people who pack the Bermuda Bar every Friday night on an adventure, cutting up the wax with a dexterity that leaves them breathless, even as they try to match his paces on the dance floor. If hearing him live on the ones and twos isn't enough for you, check him out on the Beat (WMIB-FM 103.5) every weekday from 9:00-10:00 p.m.
Brooklyn transplant DJ LS One has spun for numerous rap stars over the past decade, including Onyx and DMX. These days, however, he merely takes the good people who pack the Bermuda Bar every Friday night on an adventure, cutting up the wax with a dexterity that leaves them breathless, even as they try to match his paces on the dance floor. If hearing him live on the ones and twos isn't enough for you, check him out on the Beat (WMIB-FM 103.5) every weekday from 9:00-10:00 p.m.
Perhaps it's a byproduct of the demographic trend of Haitians moving north of Miami-Dade, but there is a dearth of spaces dedicated to Haitian music in this county. Finding live compas in this town has become as difficult as finding reggae. Heading north is the right idea, though. Marabou, just over the county line, is picking up the slack quite well, thank you. Restaurant by day, at about 10:00 several nights per week it becomes a venue for live music. Notable Haitian performer Sweet Micky plays each Thursday, and Top Vice takes the stage every Friday. Others, like Konpa Kreyol, have jammed on the club's stage as well. Recently, when armed violence was shaking the island nation, Marabou was a haven for musicians who couldn't (or didn't want to) return home for Carnaval. And this place also serves excellent lambi (conch) and griot (pork stew). Weekend nights have been a mix of DJs spinning a mix of Caribbean sounds. The club usually stays open until 4:00 a.m.
Perhaps it's a byproduct of the demographic trend of Haitians moving north of Miami-Dade, but there is a dearth of spaces dedicated to Haitian music in this county. Finding live compas in this town has become as difficult as finding reggae. Heading north is the right idea, though. Marabou, just over the county line, is picking up the slack quite well, thank you. Restaurant by day, at about 10:00 several nights per week it becomes a venue for live music. Notable Haitian performer Sweet Micky plays each Thursday, and Top Vice takes the stage every Friday. Others, like Konpa Kreyol, have jammed on the club's stage as well. Recently, when armed violence was shaking the island nation, Marabou was a haven for musicians who couldn't (or didn't want to) return home for Carnaval. And this place also serves excellent lambi (conch) and griot (pork stew). Weekend nights have been a mix of DJs spinning a mix of Caribbean sounds. The club usually stays open until 4:00 a.m.
More country than rock, Redlands Tavern sports a totally relaxed atmosphere and abundant "Bikers Welcome" signage. Dread not ye Toyota drivers, the earthy elbow benders here are of the cowboy hats and "howdy ma'am" school rather than the tattoo-painted, swastika-emblazoned, leather-jacket gang. Nonetheless you'll see motorcycles parked next to the hitching post labeled "horse parking." (On the subject of tradition: The South Dade area is officially known as the Redland, but anyone who grew up in Miami, or even lived here a decade or two, calls it the Redlands.) Inside you'll find the mandatory pool tables, decent bar food, and a rare emphasis on the "South" in "South Florida." If you're looking for some brawlin', look elsewhere. But if you're looking for a place that welcomes everybody, whether they run a chopper or ride a horse, or even drive a sedan, Redlands Tavern will provide you a mess of drinking buddies.
More country than rock, Redlands Tavern sports a totally relaxed atmosphere and abundant "Bikers Welcome" signage. Dread not ye Toyota drivers, the earthy elbow benders here are of the cowboy hats and "howdy ma'am" school rather than the tattoo-painted, swastika-emblazoned, leather-jacket gang. Nonetheless you'll see motorcycles parked next to the hitching post labeled "horse parking." (On the subject of tradition: The South Dade area is officially known as the Redland, but anyone who grew up in Miami, or even lived here a decade or two, calls it the Redlands.) Inside you'll find the mandatory pool tables, decent bar food, and a rare emphasis on the "South" in "South Florida." If you're looking for some brawlin', look elsewhere. But if you're looking for a place that welcomes everybody, whether they run a chopper or ride a horse, or even drive a sedan, Redlands Tavern will provide you a mess of drinking buddies.
Only God knows how this little shithole manages to stay in business. It is truly beyond human cognition. The entrance is an unmarked door hidden between a liquor store and a pawnshop. Misty Blue -- if that is its real name -- has been the target of drug busts and late-night debauchery for years. It's dirty in more ways than one. And if you're drinking here, you most likely have succumbed to the trials and denials that beat down the average person just trying to live a decent life. Down and out, maybe for the count, you might find some poor, sauced-out drunkard standing outside panhandling for money to cop dope. Or are you looking in a mirror? The cops -- hmmm, maybe that's why it's so hard to find the phone number for this dive. Be on the lookout for the countless number of panties that drape over the fat, slovenly bartender even as you glance around for potentially dangerous barflies. As for the panties, be warned of a Blue tradition: Every woman must give up her panties the first time she orders something from the bar. Yeah, hot babes are lined up four deep. Panties uncovered as a cover: Now that's classy.
Only God knows how this little shithole manages to stay in business. It is truly beyond human cognition. The entrance is an unmarked door hidden between a liquor store and a pawnshop. Misty Blue -- if that is its real name -- has been the target of drug busts and late-night debauchery for years. It's dirty in more ways than one. And if you're drinking here, you most likely have succumbed to the trials and denials that beat down the average person just trying to live a decent life. Down and out, maybe for the count, you might find some poor, sauced-out drunkard standing outside panhandling for money to cop dope. Or are you looking in a mirror? The cops -- hmmm, maybe that's why it's so hard to find the phone number for this dive. Be on the lookout for the countless number of panties that drape over the fat, slovenly bartender even as you glance around for potentially dangerous barflies. As for the panties, be warned of a Blue tradition: Every woman must give up her panties the first time she orders something from the bar. Yeah, hot babes are lined up four deep. Panties uncovered as a cover: Now that's classy.
BEST NIGHTCLUB DISGUISED AS A HOTEL
The Ritz-Carlton's DiLido Beach Club
The Ritz-Carlton at the intersection of Collins and Lincoln is part of a highly regarded hotel brand that has received rave reviews for its newly designed plush décor. But it's really the DiLido Beach Club out back that has people talking, and partying. Every Sunday afternoon, the DiLido transforms the ocean-view deck into a bustling, St. Tropezian affair that practically spills over with top-shelf models, A-list locals, and celebrities. In other words, it's what Sundays at Nikki Beach used to be. Though the outdoor setting is smaller than Nikki Beach, it features cabanas and couches on full, lush grass (as opposed to beds on the sand). To be fair, the Raleigh Hotel and its accomplished promoters, Tommy Pooch and Ingrid Casares, also have a neat little Sunday thang, but forget competition. There are plenty of big spenders to go around.
BEST NIGHTCLUB DISGUISED AS A HOTEL
The Ritz-Carlton's DiLido Beach Club
The Ritz-Carlton at the intersection of Collins and Lincoln is part of a highly regarded hotel brand that has received rave reviews for its newly designed plush décor. But it's really the DiLido Beach Club out back that has people talking, and partying. Every Sunday afternoon, the DiLido transforms the ocean-view deck into a bustling, St. Tropezian affair that practically spills over with top-shelf models, A-list locals, and celebrities. In other words, it's what Sundays at Nikki Beach used to be. Though the outdoor setting is smaller than Nikki Beach, it features cabanas and couches on full, lush grass (as opposed to beds on the sand). To be fair, the Raleigh Hotel and its accomplished promoters, Tommy Pooch and Ingrid Casares, also have a neat little Sunday thang, but forget competition. There are plenty of big spenders to go around.
Longevity for music clubs in this city is akin to "dog years." A decade run equals a lifetime anywhere else. Which means the biweekly open-mike night at Luna Star Café, now in its eighth year, has grown long in the tooth. But you'd never notice by the exuberance of the participants, a roster of volunteer songsters who begin signing up about 8:00 p.m. for a night that runs into the wee hours. Young guns getting their first taste of the spotlight and old folkies reliving their glory days take to the stage with guitars, keyboards, even an occasional banjo or bongo. And it's not just one and done. Players can settle in and show their stuff with a set of three or four tunes. Neither is the night relegated to a slow Tuesday, like so many such affairs. Luna's jam takes place on Saturdays. Bring your six-string and work those vocals for the faithful, then relax with a few cold ones in Luna Star's friendly, casual, and arty atmosphere.
Longevity for music clubs in this city is akin to "dog years." A decade run equals a lifetime anywhere else. Which means the biweekly open-mike night at Luna Star Café, now in its eighth year, has grown long in the tooth. But you'd never notice by the exuberance of the participants, a roster of volunteer songsters who begin signing up about 8:00 p.m. for a night that runs into the wee hours. Young guns getting their first taste of the spotlight and old folkies reliving their glory days take to the stage with guitars, keyboards, even an occasional banjo or bongo. And it's not just one and done. Players can settle in and show their stuff with a set of three or four tunes. Neither is the night relegated to a slow Tuesday, like so many such affairs. Luna's jam takes place on Saturdays. Bring your six-string and work those vocals for the faithful, then relax with a few cold ones in Luna Star's friendly, casual, and arty atmosphere.
Siren, once monthly, grew so popular with its audience that the event now makes each Saturday a girls' night out. Miami's most metrosexual hangout does the women-who-like-women thing well -- clubs do not give up a Saturday night easily. That means more women in the upstairs lounge grooving to house music, salsa, and all things jiggy. Though Jade is not exclusively for women, Siren is, and it clearly makes the distaff crowd happy, merry, joyful, gay even. Like the women who have popularized Jade Saturdays, the club itself is hardly trashy, so closet the flannels and break out the lipstick, ladies.
Siren, once monthly, grew so popular with its audience that the event now makes each Saturday a girls' night out. Miami's most metrosexual hangout does the women-who-like-women thing well -- clubs do not give up a Saturday night easily. That means more women in the upstairs lounge grooving to house music, salsa, and all things jiggy. Though Jade is not exclusively for women, Siren is, and it clearly makes the distaff crowd happy, merry, joyful, gay even. Like the women who have popularized Jade Saturdays, the club itself is hardly trashy, so closet the flannels and break out the lipstick, ladies.
The mechanical makeup of the jukebox at the Sandbar is nothing extraordinary. It's a typical CD changer writ large but lacking fancy functions or a connection to the Internet. This particular box contains winner music from every pop genre of the past 40 years. Sadly that includes concessions to the loser music of today (Avril Lavigne, Pink ...). You'll still need a roll or two of quarters for the killer: The Clash, Bowie, Oingo Boingo, the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, James Brown, Al Green, Patti Smith, B.B. King, the Pretenders, the Cure, Ludacris, and like that. This joint may not be fancy, but you can accompany your boozing with a soundtrack that's nothing short of intoxicating.
The mechanical makeup of the jukebox at the Sandbar is nothing extraordinary. It's a typical CD changer writ large but lacking fancy functions or a connection to the Internet. This particular box contains winner music from every pop genre of the past 40 years. Sadly that includes concessions to the loser music of today (Avril Lavigne, Pink ...). You'll still need a roll or two of quarters for the killer: The Clash, Bowie, Oingo Boingo, the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, James Brown, Al Green, Patti Smith, B.B. King, the Pretenders, the Cure, Ludacris, and like that. This joint may not be fancy, but you can accompany your boozing with a soundtrack that's nothing short of intoxicating.
How do they do it? After three years of busting out their slinky Afro-Cuban-steeped funk, the Spam Allstars are still at it, week after week, holding court every Thursday evening for Fuácata, which is the party around here. Even Miami's too-cool-for-school hipsters find themselves hitting the dance floor and making with the mashed potato. And thanks to Fuácata's spacious new digs at I/O (after its run at old Little Havana roost Hoy Como Ayer), there's room to get your groove on without simultaneously getting your limbs caught up in someone else's groove thang. Rather than taking their enduring popularity as a license to play it safe, the Spamsters have managed to expand their wild DJ-with-band sound, jamming with the legendary salsa master Larry Harlow, collaborating with Phish keyboardist Paige McConnell, or simply following their guitarist Adam Zimmon into uncharted rhythmic territory, which he explores like a musical Magellan. Fuácata's lack of pretension is leavened by the right dash of neighborhood grit seeping in from downtown streets. This weekly shindig's welcoming vibe and multiethnic crowd represents what so many out-of-towners assume rules this metropolis eight days a week. Locals know better, but on Thursdays we can still pretend.
How do they do it? After three years of busting out their slinky Afro-Cuban-steeped funk, the Spam Allstars are still at it, week after week, holding court every Thursday evening for Fuácata, which is the party around here. Even Miami's too-cool-for-school hipsters find themselves hitting the dance floor and making with the mashed potato. And thanks to Fuácata's spacious new digs at I/O (after its run at old Little Havana roost Hoy Como Ayer), there's room to get your groove on without simultaneously getting your limbs caught up in someone else's groove thang. Rather than taking their enduring popularity as a license to play it safe, the Spamsters have managed to expand their wild DJ-with-band sound, jamming with the legendary salsa master Larry Harlow, collaborating with Phish keyboardist Paige McConnell, or simply following their guitarist Adam Zimmon into uncharted rhythmic territory, which he explores like a musical Magellan. Fuácata's lack of pretension is leavened by the right dash of neighborhood grit seeping in from downtown streets. This weekly shindig's welcoming vibe and multiethnic crowd represents what so many out-of-towners assume rules this metropolis eight days a week. Locals know better, but on Thursdays we can still pretend.
A conversation with Michael Capponi never lasts too long or goes too deep. It's not that the man behind nationally acclaimed nights at Prive, B.E.D., Mansion, and the DiLido Beach Club is inattentive or shallow; it's because the lifestyle of this perpetual host leaves little time for schmoozing. Capponi, whose elegant Belgian demeanor mixes with surfer-boy charm, is often seen posing for photos with celebri-friends such as Ashton Kutcher, P. Diddy, and Madonna. Since re-emerging from a two-year pilgrimage to Guadeloupe and Europe (partly to cleanse his partied-out body and soul), Capponi has ascended to the top of the party heap: sought out by magazines, developers, sporting-event promoters, and charity organizers whenever they want to put together a badass bash.
A conversation with Michael Capponi never lasts too long or goes too deep. It's not that the man behind nationally acclaimed nights at Prive, B.E.D., Mansion, and the DiLido Beach Club is inattentive or shallow; it's because the lifestyle of this perpetual host leaves little time for schmoozing. Capponi, whose elegant Belgian demeanor mixes with surfer-boy charm, is often seen posing for photos with celebri-friends such as Ashton Kutcher, P. Diddy, and Madonna. Since re-emerging from a two-year pilgrimage to Guadeloupe and Europe (partly to cleanse his partied-out body and soul), Capponi has ascended to the top of the party heap: sought out by magazines, developers, sporting-event promoters, and charity organizers whenever they want to put together a badass bash.
A seemingly incongruous setting for the consummate cocktail, the Marlin's bar actually serves a splendid version of the original, with your choice of top-shelf gin and vermouth as well as the newfangled blends involving apple schnapps or whatever. For atmosphere, the curving bar is long enough to accommodate your whole posse and low-key enough for sitting alone; comfortable sofas and seats are scattered around the open room. Experimental films, world music, and reggae provide accompaniments to your olive-or-not, shaken-or-stirred, gin or vodka reason to be here. As is typical with Miami Beach bars, drinks are pricey and door people sometimes less than extroverted, but the martini in your hand and the dizzying stimuli make the Marlin Bar a keeper, an absolute must for year-round residents to get to know.
A seemingly incongruous setting for the consummate cocktail, the Marlin's bar actually serves a splendid version of the original, with your choice of top-shelf gin and vermouth as well as the newfangled blends involving apple schnapps or whatever. For atmosphere, the curving bar is long enough to accommodate your whole posse and low-key enough for sitting alone; comfortable sofas and seats are scattered around the open room. Experimental films, world music, and reggae provide accompaniments to your olive-or-not, shaken-or-stirred, gin or vodka reason to be here. As is typical with Miami Beach bars, drinks are pricey and door people sometimes less than extroverted, but the martini in your hand and the dizzying stimuli make the Marlin Bar a keeper, an absolute must for year-round residents to get to know.
After too many years of snooty dress codes, most clubs, even the chichi hot spots, have loosened up and opened their hallowed doors to patrons wearing jeans. Good old denim, the fabric that changed America, conquers another frontier. It used to be that admittance to a high-end joint began with expensive slacks for men and short skirts for women, but these nights it's all about looking cool, not elegant, so "proper attire required" is an instruction better left to galas. Not that regal clothes are evil. Linen pants are classy, but denim is classic, and a pair of well-worn Levis with a white button-down shirt and leather boots is as dressed up as anybody needs be to consume alcohol, endure pounding music, and maybe get laid. Besides, jeans look better with another nightlife fashion trend: pink shirts. Further, it should be noted that nothing clashes with earplugs.
After too many years of snooty dress codes, most clubs, even the chichi hot spots, have loosened up and opened their hallowed doors to patrons wearing jeans. Good old denim, the fabric that changed America, conquers another frontier. It used to be that admittance to a high-end joint began with expensive slacks for men and short skirts for women, but these nights it's all about looking cool, not elegant, so "proper attire required" is an instruction better left to galas. Not that regal clothes are evil. Linen pants are classy, but denim is classic, and a pair of well-worn Levis with a white button-down shirt and leather boots is as dressed up as anybody needs be to consume alcohol, endure pounding music, and maybe get laid. Besides, jeans look better with another nightlife fashion trend: pink shirts. Further, it should be noted that nothing clashes with earplugs.
Admittedly there are wittier and more attractive crowds than the corporate types gathered at Gordon Biersch during its festive happy hour, which kicks off every day (except the already popular Friday) at 5:00 p.m. But fun's the point (it's called "happy" for a reason), and there's great fun to be had sipping a cold brew after the paycheck grind as a horde of suits romp around a Brickell Avenue, oak-paneled brewery/restaurant with the carelessness and glee of unsupervised children. Accountants, lawyers, and other executive types tend to have the social skills of your average turtle -- which increases the entertainment value in watching the action at the bar, where the need for another drink and the guzzling of entire mugs of beer result in a kinetic energy and loosening of ties. For these people the ability to relate to other human beings (especially those of the opposite sex) in an engaging way requires copious amounts of alcohol. And with a sweeping selection of beer and skilled bartenders able to whip up any cocktail ever invented, Gordon Biersch is the perfect place for them to get sauced. And for you to enjoy the show.
Admittedly there are wittier and more attractive crowds than the corporate types gathered at Gordon Biersch during its festive happy hour, which kicks off every day (except the already popular Friday) at 5:00 p.m. But fun's the point (it's called "happy" for a reason), and there's great fun to be had sipping a cold brew after the paycheck grind as a horde of suits romp around a Brickell Avenue, oak-paneled brewery/restaurant with the carelessness and glee of unsupervised children. Accountants, lawyers, and other executive types tend to have the social skills of your average turtle -- which increases the entertainment value in watching the action at the bar, where the need for another drink and the guzzling of entire mugs of beer result in a kinetic energy and loosening of ties. For these people the ability to relate to other human beings (especially those of the opposite sex) in an engaging way requires copious amounts of alcohol. And with a sweeping selection of beer and skilled bartenders able to whip up any cocktail ever invented, Gordon Biersch is the perfect place for them to get sauced. And for you to enjoy the show.
Located in one of the oldest booze buildings in South Beach (the old Diamond Bar spot), Felt has moved forward to become a favorite hang for cats far too cool to tangle with the trendoid mobs of posers filling neonland. Ten eight-and-a-half-foot blue felt tables crowd the joint while a DJ spins an eclectic mix of Eighties rock, hip-hop, and, on rare occasions, some dance. Felt's top shark, Fritz Romeus, also happens to be behind those sordid SKIN parties, which explains the gammy, fake-boob babes cavorting about in what is an otherwise laid-back joint. The only annoyance is a minor one: Patrons into serious pool endure tight spacing between tables. This often causes a shooter to bump butt with someone at another table. On the bright side, butt-bumping's a great way to meet people.
Located in one of the oldest booze buildings in South Beach (the old Diamond Bar spot), Felt has moved forward to become a favorite hang for cats far too cool to tangle with the trendoid mobs of posers filling neonland. Ten eight-and-a-half-foot blue felt tables crowd the joint while a DJ spins an eclectic mix of Eighties rock, hip-hop, and, on rare occasions, some dance. Felt's top shark, Fritz Romeus, also happens to be behind those sordid SKIN parties, which explains the gammy, fake-boob babes cavorting about in what is an otherwise laid-back joint. The only annoyance is a minor one: Patrons into serious pool endure tight spacing between tables. This often causes a shooter to bump butt with someone at another table. On the bright side, butt-bumping's a great way to meet people.
For all its chic international appeal, the poolside bar scene at the Delano remains refreshingly accessible. No velvet ropes, no beefy bouncers, no clipboard-wielding door divas. As a nonguest, you should be polite and use some stealth: stroll nonchalantly through the sumptuous lobby into the carefully manicured rear area. Meander past the rows of private bungalows to the back bar, then plunk yourself on a stool providing a perfect view of South Beach's lotus eaters in full glory. The music's not too loud (lounging without migraines: what a concept), and the drinks, while hardly a bargain (this is South Beach), are lower-priced than the jewelry and designer swimsuits you'll spy on guests lazily drifting about the pool's brightly dappled water. After a few cocktails you may find yourself transfixed by the pool itself: Its "virtual edges" are now de rigueur for fine hotels around the nation. And should you spot a hot celeb tanning on a deck chair, keep your camera tucked away. The security staff is cool, and quick to toss paparazzi staking out Hollywood dreams. In all ways, discretion is the better part of having a blast, or just getting blasted, at the Delano.
For all its chic international appeal, the poolside bar scene at the Delano remains refreshingly accessible. No velvet ropes, no beefy bouncers, no clipboard-wielding door divas. As a nonguest, you should be polite and use some stealth: stroll nonchalantly through the sumptuous lobby into the carefully manicured rear area. Meander past the rows of private bungalows to the back bar, then plunk yourself on a stool providing a perfect view of South Beach's lotus eaters in full glory. The music's not too loud (lounging without migraines: what a concept), and the drinks, while hardly a bargain (this is South Beach), are lower-priced than the jewelry and designer swimsuits you'll spy on guests lazily drifting about the pool's brightly dappled water. After a few cocktails you may find yourself transfixed by the pool itself: Its "virtual edges" are now de rigueur for fine hotels around the nation. And should you spot a hot celeb tanning on a deck chair, keep your camera tucked away. The security staff is cool, and quick to toss paparazzi staking out Hollywood dreams. In all ways, discretion is the better part of having a blast, or just getting blasted, at the Delano.
This Mediterranean-style bar and outdoor restaurant with a view of Fisher Island sits elegantly on a sandy bank at South Pointe, beneath the towering Murano Grande at Portofino, and bills itself "the South of France at the South of Fifth." (While some think South Beach ends at Fifth Street, those with taste know that's where the good stuff begins.) This posh hangout features amenities for oh-so-fabulous, R&R-seeking VIPeople: cabanas, massage tables (with masseur), a saltwater pool, and plenty of gorgeous models practicing catwalk struts. It's a private club -- you have to be a resident of the Murano or pay for a pricey membership -- but nonmembers can gain access with nothing more than a VIP demeanor and the name of a member they claim to be meeting. With an elite crowd that's heavy on nightlife- and fashion-industry honchos, you can expect a fair share of tall European lovelies shaking what they got. Many men who pass through La Piaggia are celebrities with a lust for ladies, among them R. Kelly, Tommy Lee, and none other than former President Bill "Mr. Hillary" Clinton. That's because they are well aware that this place is ground zero for hot models.
This Mediterranean-style bar and outdoor restaurant with a view of Fisher Island sits elegantly on a sandy bank at South Pointe, beneath the towering Murano Grande at Portofino, and bills itself "the South of France at the South of Fifth." (While some think South Beach ends at Fifth Street, those with taste know that's where the good stuff begins.) This posh hangout features amenities for oh-so-fabulous, R&R-seeking VIPeople: cabanas, massage tables (with masseur), a saltwater pool, and plenty of gorgeous models practicing catwalk struts. It's a private club -- you have to be a resident of the Murano or pay for a pricey membership -- but nonmembers can gain access with nothing more than a VIP demeanor and the name of a member they claim to be meeting. With an elite crowd that's heavy on nightlife- and fashion-industry honchos, you can expect a fair share of tall European lovelies shaking what they got. Many men who pass through La Piaggia are celebrities with a lust for ladies, among them R. Kelly, Tommy Lee, and none other than former President Bill "Mr. Hillary" Clinton. That's because they are well aware that this place is ground zero for hot models.
All the mixers at Automatic Slim's deserve an award, so the nod goes to senior server (she's been there longest, she doesn't just serve elderly people) Mara Degenhardt. The Washington Avenue bar that claims to be the place "where the beautiful come to get ugly" was the first to play up the Coyote Ugly mien by allowing the gorgeous female bartenders to prop themselves up on the bar, perform a hot number to the sounds of Eighties pop metal, and pour free shots to rowdy patrons. Mara gets top billing not just for seniority: the stunning six-foot-tall, Amazonian blonde won Gillette's Best Legs in America contest last year, and she whips up a mean margarita. She's also the self-appointed "mother" of the staff. The bartender babes at Slim's definitely need one: All are wild and love to party along with the crowd, but if you go too far -- say, reach across the bar and grab one of their parts -- Mara will flat kick your ass.
All the mixers at Automatic Slim's deserve an award, so the nod goes to senior server (she's been there longest, she doesn't just serve elderly people) Mara Degenhardt. The Washington Avenue bar that claims to be the place "where the beautiful come to get ugly" was the first to play up the Coyote Ugly mien by allowing the gorgeous female bartenders to prop themselves up on the bar, perform a hot number to the sounds of Eighties pop metal, and pour free shots to rowdy patrons. Mara gets top billing not just for seniority: the stunning six-foot-tall, Amazonian blonde won Gillette's Best Legs in America contest last year, and she whips up a mean margarita. She's also the self-appointed "mother" of the staff. The bartender babes at Slim's definitely need one: All are wild and love to party along with the crowd, but if you go too far -- say, reach across the bar and grab one of their parts -- Mara will flat kick your ass.
The cool new dueling jukeboxes (one local tracks, the other national; they switch back and forth when both are being played). New edifice. Tile flooring. Redesigned patio and outside bar. The improvements made during the past couple of years are fine, but to change the essence of the only club that could be considered the pinnacle of rock staging for boozing, partying audiences would be sacrilege. "The Church" would remain real-rock heaven if they painted the place pink, poured mud on the floors, and sold only two types of brew instead of four dozen. Sound system, music, roof and walls, business licenses -- and that ephemeral "essence" -- along with the management skills of Dave Daniels and his main man Mike Toms are enough. Churchill's is so much more.
The cool new dueling jukeboxes (one local tracks, the other national; they switch back and forth when both are being played). New edifice. Tile flooring. Redesigned patio and outside bar. The improvements made during the past couple of years are fine, but to change the essence of the only club that could be considered the pinnacle of rock staging for boozing, partying audiences would be sacrilege. "The Church" would remain real-rock heaven if they painted the place pink, poured mud on the floors, and sold only two types of brew instead of four dozen. Sound system, music, roof and walls, business licenses -- and that ephemeral "essence" -- along with the management skills of Dave Daniels and his main man Mike Toms are enough. Churchill's is so much more.
Mitchell Kaplan, a lifelong Miami-Dade County resident, founded Books & Books in 1982. Kaplan's personality, love of writers, and belief in the written word have inflamed and driven the Miami Book Fair International, a festival that is to publishing as Art Basel is to art. Books & Books, with outlets in Coral Gables and in Miami Beach, offers, well, books and books, but also periodicals for the shorter-attention-spanned. Writers -- up-and-coming and established, poets and novelists, left- and right-wingers -- stop by the store to give readings, and Miami's book lovers, nurtured by Kaplan, come out to meet them. Kaplan, a gentle, kind, and thoughtfully spoken man, would be surprised that so many people are grateful to him. But we are, and we should be.
Best local landmark
The Roney Plaza Hotel
I'm from Miami Beach originally. I grew up down here, so my best local landmark is one that doesn't exist anymore: the Roney Plaza Hotel. It lives now only in postcards. It was built around the same time as the Freedom Tower. It's the hallmark of my growing up. This was a magnificent hotel. It had a saltwater pool and freshwater pool, a casino, and a boardwalk. Imagine the Biltmore right there on the beach, and that's it. Unfortunately it was torn down in the Seventies. It would have been the crown jewel of Miami Beach. The fact that it doesn't stand anymore is an important point from a preservationist point of view.
Best sanctuary from the fast track
Sailing
When things get a little hectic it's great to be out on Biscayne Bay on a sailboat.
Best month
November
The month that I always point toward as being the pinnacle of the year is November, because that's when the Miami Book Fair International takes place.
Best not-so-cheap thrill
Stone crabs, preferably the jumbos at Joe's.
Best cheap thrill
It's not a classic cheap thrill, but I'm thinking of what is now called the Gardens of Pinecrest. It's the old Parrot Jungle. This is a space that is lush and beautiful and it still hasn't been completely discovered.
Best reason to live in Miami
The best reason to live in Miami -- and the best time to live in Miami -- is right now, because we have a remarkable, burgeoning literary community. Not only do we have some of the most talented writers on Earth here, not only do we have some of the most talented writers around, but we have incredibly generous writers as well. Generous with each other as well as generous with their talents and their readers.
Mitchell Kaplan, a lifelong Miami-Dade County resident, founded Books & Books in 1982. Kaplan's personality, love of writers, and belief in the written word have inflamed and driven the Miami Book Fair International, a festival that is to publishing as Art Basel is to art. Books & Books, with outlets in Coral Gables and in Miami Beach, offers, well, books and books, but also periodicals for the shorter-attention-spanned. Writers -- up-and-coming and established, poets and novelists, left- and right-wingers -- stop by the store to give readings, and Miami's book lovers, nurtured by Kaplan, come out to meet them. Kaplan, a gentle, kind, and thoughtfully spoken man, would be surprised that so many people are grateful to him. But we are, and we should be.
Best local landmark
The Roney Plaza Hotel
I'm from Miami Beach originally. I grew up down here, so my best local landmark is one that doesn't exist anymore: the Roney Plaza Hotel. It lives now only in postcards. It was built around the same time as the Freedom Tower. It's the hallmark of my growing up. This was a magnificent hotel. It had a saltwater pool and freshwater pool, a casino, and a boardwalk. Imagine the Biltmore right there on the beach, and that's it. Unfortunately it was torn down in the Seventies. It would have been the crown jewel of Miami Beach. The fact that it doesn't stand anymore is an important point from a preservationist point of view.
Best sanctuary from the fast track
Sailing
When things get a little hectic it's great to be out on Biscayne Bay on a sailboat.
Best month
November
The month that I always point toward as being the pinnacle of the year is November, because that's when the Miami Book Fair International takes place.
Best not-so-cheap thrill
Stone crabs, preferably the jumbos at Joe's.
Best cheap thrill
It's not a classic cheap thrill, but I'm thinking of what is now called the Gardens of Pinecrest. It's the old Parrot Jungle. This is a space that is lush and beautiful and it still hasn't been completely discovered.
Best reason to live in Miami
The best reason to live in Miami -- and the best time to live in Miami -- is right now, because we have a remarkable, burgeoning literary community. Not only do we have some of the most talented writers on Earth here, not only do we have some of the most talented writers around, but we have incredibly generous writers as well. Generous with each other as well as generous with their talents and their readers.
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