Collage by Nicole Lopez-Alvar
Audio By Carbonatix
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The Shops at Sunset Place was never just a mall. It was our first taste of freedom. When it opened in 1999, it quickly became a defining part of every Miami kid’s childhood and early adolescence.
From 2000 to 2010, it was the place to hang out. The mall your parents actually let you get dropped off at. The one where you suddenly had hours to fill on your own. Where you and your friends did endless “loser laps at Sunset,” circling the same floors before or after a movie at the AMC Sunset Place 24 theaters, pretending you had somewhere to be while secretly hoping to run into someone you knew. (Bonus points if you only knew that person over MySpace, AOL Instant Messenger/iChat, Blackberry BBM, or Facebook.)
Every Saturday, you knew exactly what time your middle school crush was being dropped off at, and you’d plan your entire outfit around it. (Which, of course, was from Abercrombie & Fitch, Hollister, Delia’s, Limited Too, PacSun, Wet Seal, Gap, Forever 21, or Urban Outfitters with accessories from Claire’s or Hot Topic.) You walked around all three levels of the mall, and even its notorious spiral staircase by the parking garage, just enough times to be noticed, but not enough to make it obvious. Then, you’d wait awkwardly in front of Z Gallerie to get picked up by your anxious parent.
Photo by Nicole Lopez-Alvar
Remembering Sunset Place in the 2000s
I remember a Sunset Place that was loud and alive. Grabbing fries and a strawberry milkshake at Johnny Rockets, sharing a crêpe (pizza, ham and cheese, or Caesar) at the CrêpeMaker, or ending up at the Barnes & Noble magazine section when you needed somewhere to awkwardly stand before calling your mom to pick you up. Listening to CDs with giant headphones connected to a CD player at the Virgin Records megastore felt like a different world entirely. Entering Sunset Place when its entrance was still lined with giant, faux Banyan trees.
And in between all of it, I loved hanging by the fountain near the FAO Schwarz escalators, right under those giant metal chameleon sculptures with bulging eyes, watching people come and go and feeling like I was at the most fun place in Miami.
I even remember one cold December in the mid-2000s, when my parents took me ice skating at a makeshift rink set up right in front of NikeTown, tucked beneath FAO Schwarz. It wasn’t quite real ice, but it didn’t matter. At that age, it felt magical. Plus, the giant orange sculpture on the nearby stage added to the wonder. Those little moments, random and fleeting, are the ones I recall fondly.
Photo by Nicole Lopez-Alvar
What Sunset Place Looks Like Now
Today, the behemoth of over 516,000 square feet of empty retail space is something else entirely. On April 7, LA Fitness, long considered the last real anchor, quietly closed its doors. Now, aside from the movie theater, Tea & Poets, and the still-beloved Color Me Mine, where birthday parties once felt like the event of the year, there’s almost nothing left.
Walking through the space on Wednesday, April 15, was eerie. The abandoned mall holds on to more memories than people. Some escalators are abandoned entirely, while the few that do function are completely unused, covered in dirt and dust. There are only a handful of people walking around the entire property at any hour of the day. And the most striking visual? The large, six-foot-tall “Directory” signs are all completely blank.
Photo by Nicole Lopez-Alvar
When Sunset Place opened in 1999, it tried to outdo every mall in the area — and the mall that came before it [Bakery Center] — with its 24-screen theater, IMAX, NikeTown, GameWorks, and over-the-top features like fake lightning, artificial trees, and cascading waterfalls.
Even during its peak in 2005, it always felt equal parts magical and excessive. Looking back, it’s kind of wild to realize the place that defined so many of our childhoods was built on layers of Miami history, each one trying, and failing, to get it right.
Photos by Nicole Lopez-Alvar
Reflecting on the End of an Era
With redevelopment officially underway and the clock ticking on what’s left of the structure, it’s clear that the Sunset Place as we once knew it has come to an end. Heck, it ended over a decade ago — and most would say it was doomed from the start. Although the future promises something new and something more connected to the city of South Miami, the building holds our youth. For those of us who grew up here, its pending demolition means saying goodbye to a place that raised us.
Before it disappears for good, it feels only right to look back at the restaurants and hangouts that made it what it was. The ones we circled back to, lingered in, and built entire days and nights around. The ones Miami still misses most.
Photo by Nicole Lopez-Alvar (left); CrêpeMaker photos (right)
CrêpeMaker – Opened 2008, Closed 2016
If you didn’t go to the CrêpeMaker at Sunset Place, at the Falls, or at your cousin’s first communion when her parents catered it for the after party, did you really grow up in Miami? The outdoor kiosk with a tiny built-in kitchen, complete with a circular griddle, always felt like the busiest place at Sunset. Located right outside the American Eagle store on the first floor, facing the giant staircase leading up to the AMC theater, those crêpes were seriously my favorite. I always ordered the ham and cheese, the “Pizza,” or went for a classic Nutella and strawberry. In the words of proud Miamian and local historian, Abel Sanchez, “The lady who made the crepes at CrêpeMaker made them so good. They were so fresh. We’d grab a crêpe and sit outside of AMC on one of those circular benches, you know, and knosh on that and then go in the theater. That’s if I wasn’t stuffing my face at the theater.” Fun fact: they’re still around today as a catering business.
Photos by Nicole Lopez-Alvar
Dan Marino’s Fine Food and Spirits – Opened in the early 2000s, Closed 2011
Dan Marino’s at Sunset Place was where you went when you wanted to feel grown up, or at least pretend you were. While the rest of the mall was chaos with teenagers doing “loser laps,” this was the dimly lit escape where parents posted up with a drink, waiting for us to finally call for a ride. Walking in felt like entering a fancy restaurant at the time, but looking back, it was more like an upscale Applebee’s with big ambitions. The lighting was so low you could barely read the menu, which honestly worked in its favor, and there was always a wait long enough to make it feel important. The food was hit or miss, but every now and then, something random, like a brownie drowning in vanilla rum butter sauce, would absolutely hit, and you’d think, wait… is this actually good? It was overpriced, a little dramatic, and took itself very seriously, which somehow made it even more iconic.
Photos by Nicole Lopez-Alvar
IT’SUGAR – Opened Late 2000s, Closed 2020
The IT’SUGAR at Sunset Place, which was formerly a Mayor’s jewelry store (you can tell by the gray marble exterior), was the joy of every tween and teen — long before the Swedish candy craze that has swept the U.S. now. I remember going to grab a bag of scoop-your-own candy that you’d pay by the pound for, but it was usually for younger millennials.
Photos in 2026 by Nicole Lopez-Alvar; Older photos by Johnny Rockets
Johnny Rockets – Opened Early 2000s, Closed 2020
I can still picture sitting on the second-floor patio of Johnny Rockets, under those red umbrella-topped tables, looking out over the mall like I had the best view of all of Miami. Inside, I fondly recall its retro-inspired 1950s diner aesthetic that somehow made everything feel more fun, with retro hats and a jukebox in the corner. I would always order the same thing: an old-fashioned strawberry milkshake with a cherry on top and a basket of loaded chili cheese fries that were basically my version of heaven. (The kind you had to eat with a fork, no matter what.) Sometimes I’d switch it up with a burger, but it was always about the chili. Messy, over-the-top, perfect. Even now, just looking at the red metal detailing on the pedestrian bridge is enough to send me right back there. Johnny Rockets was a Sunset Place staple. In the words of a proud Miamian and local historian, Abel Sanchez, “Sunset Place really begins and ends with Johnny Rockets.”
Collage by Nicole Lopez-Alvar; Martini Bar photos by Martini Bar
Martini Bar – Opened December 2005, Closed 2010
Martini Bar at Sunset Place might have been the first true “clubstaurant” in Miami before we even had a word for it. One minute you thought you were going to dinner, the next you were yelling over bass so loud it felt like you accidentally walked into a South Beach nightclub in the middle of a mall. The lights were low, the music was higher than the price of your cocktail, and somehow people were both eating tapas and fully dancing like it was 2 a.m. on Washington Avenue. You’d walk in asking, “Is this a restaurant?” and walk out two hours later, wondering how your quiet dinner turned into a full-blown night out. And even if it’s not exactly the spot we’d beg to bring back, it still lives on in those hilarious, questionable, and sometimes downright poignant memories. Or just in passing, walking by and catching a glimpse of the chaos inside, knowing something unhinged was definitely happening in there.
Photos to the left by Nicole Lopez-Alvar; Photos to the right by Splitsville
Splitsville – Opened October 2008, Closed in 2020
Splitsville at Sunset Place was where the night went when you weren’t ready to go home after the movie. Right there next to the box office on the second floor, it felt like the cool older sibling of everything else in the mall, a bowling alley that somehow doubled as a full-on restaurant and low-key nightlife spot. You’d walk in thinking you were just going to bowl, and suddenly you were ordering sliders, sushi, and fries like you were at an actual restaurant, not wearing rented shoes under black lights. It was one of the first places that made bowling feel like a whole experience, with giant TVs everywhere, loud music, and just enough chaos to make it fun. And inevitably, someone would decide to eat first and bowl after, which was always a terrible idea. Splitsville wasn’t just about knocking down pins; it was about stretching the night out as long as possible, one frame, one drink, and one overly ambitious food order at a time.
Collage by Nicole Lopez-Alvar using stills of a YouTube video by Juan Alvarez; Photos in 2026 by Nicole Lopez-Alvar
Wilderness Grill – Opened 1999, Closed March 2003
The restaurant designed to impress almost everyone who set foot in Sunset Place, Wilderness Grill, “Paradise Down Under,” was the true restaurant anchor of the mall when it first opened in 1999. The restaurant featured impressive faux Banyan trees outside, and its operators even had a “rolling thunder” sound effect on at all times. It was basically a knock-off of Rainforest Cafe, but it was ours. According to Miamians, there was even kangaroo and emu meat on the menu, along with a bunch of other Rainforest Cafe knockoffs. It was ridiculous, which is why it only lasted until 2003. Still, I’d kill to see it again. Also, it’s wild to think this would soon turn into a giant, white, and soulless Forever 21.
Bonus Spots:
Barnie’s Coffee, Sweet Donna’s, Scorpico video game lounge, Z Gallerie, the bar inside of GameWorks, and Zahbar’s.
Do you remember any of these spots? Or do you have any memories you’d like to share with New Times? Please let me know by emailing nicole.lopez-alvar@miaminewtimes.com with your photos, videos, or memories. You can also send me a direct message on Instagram @nicolelovar.
The Shops at Sunset Place. 5701 Sunset Dr., South Miami; 305-663-0482; shopsunsetplace.com. (Warning: the website or its phone number hasn’t been updated in about a decade.)
