But as of this week, the building has been painted over in a fitting shade of black, as if the club were mourning its own death. The flashing neon sign of dancing ladies and the eponymous pink pussycat are gone, too.
"I'm so sad to see it go, especially since it was such an iconic piece of our landscape," says local artist Jessy Nite, whose Instagram page Signagetour catalogs distinctive signs she finds throughout her travels. "It checked all the boxes: It was very colorful, had huge bright neon colors, and the sexy girls, and of course the pink."
Constructed in 1925, the building that would one day house Club Pink Pussycat was originally occupied by a popular family restaurant called Bahama Steak House, according to Miami Herald coverage from the 1960s. In 1978, the restaurant closed down and a disco lounge called Lord Mitty's took its place. Lord Mitty's help-wanted ads in the Herald called for "TRIM counter girls" between 18 and 35 to apply in person and ask for "Micky."
Lord Mitty's reign was short-lived, and by the early 1980s Club Pink Pussycat had opened in its place. The new club made headlines as one of South Florida's first strip clubs to offer full nudity.
Amid the heyday of Miami's cocaine cowboys, Club Pink Pussycat quickly gained a reputation as a den of sex, drugs, and other illicit activity. According to the Herald, the club was linked to Colombo mafia family and Alberto San Pedro, the infamous drug trafficker who earned the nickname "Great Corrupter."
In September 1985, Metro-Dade police (now Miami-Dade Police) raided the club following a five-week sting operation and issued 26 warrants on 162 separate offenses, including prostitution. Following the raid, Hialeah police officers were barred from accepting off-duty shifts at bars and nightclubs because members of the department were found to have worked security while illegal activity was going on. Rumor had it that San Pedro slapped then-Miami-Dade County Mayor Steven Clark after the raid, though the mayor denied it.
By the early aughts, William "Bill" Seidle, the famed Miami car dealer, bought the property where the club resides, along with other airport-adjacent lots near NW 36th Street.
In 2003, the Miami-Dade Expressway Authority (MDX) had plans to purchase the property and surrounding area to construct an expressway expansion that would've linked the Dolphin and Airport expressways, but that deal never went through. (MDX does own some neighboring land across NW North River Drive, according to Miami-Dade Property Appraiser records.)
After Seidle's death in 2008, the property passed to his wife, Betty. But the club fell on hard times and shuttered the following year. Seidle's son, Michael Seidle, took over the property through his company 3890 NW 36TH STREET LLC.
Though for a while it seemed Club Pink Pussycat was gone for good, it reopened in late 2019 after a decade of closure.
But the pandemic dealt another blow to the all-nude strip joint. As clientele dwindled, the Pussycat fell further into disrepair. At some point in 2020 it was rebranded as Take 1 Lounge, but the name change wasn't enough. Slowly the neon sign began to go dark one letter and limb at a time.
Over the years, the building became a colorful symbol of home to locals commuting on NW 36th Street or on their way to the airport. As Hialeah artist Nathalie Moreno wrote in Waterproof: Evidence of a Miami Worth Remembering: "I don't remember the first time I saw that enormous pink block of a building, but I do remember sitting in the backseat of my mother's Maxima, watching it go by, thinking it was the most beautiful sight I'd ever seen."
Club Pink Pussycat will soon become "Krave Miami," an artistic club experience that promises to be a "sexy circus of naughtiness and insanity."
Photo courtesy of Krave Miami
According to Alexis Donatacci, a spokesperson for the venue, the club will relaunch later this year as a performance-art nightclub called Krave Miami. Donatacci describes it as a "sexy circus of naughtiness and insanity." She says she will work as a greeter, spanking patrons' butts as they enter.
As for the neon sign, Donatacci tells New Times it was preserved and given to Michael Seidle, who will eventually display it as an art installation.
"For the people who saw it as an iconic experience, I can say we are absolutely embracing the past," Donatacci says. "But we're taking it to a much more inclusive, creative place where everybody is welcome."
