Branding and Boredom on Biscayne Bay

Miami, my favorite American city, contains multitudes. It's a city of both poverty and wealth, a cultural hub and, at times, a cultural void. It's a place of stark contrasts: ugly and beautiful, violent and peaceful. It's a Latin American city with a Southern sensibility. No single place contains such a confluence of contradictions.

Miami, I believe, serves as a compelling bellwether for broader national and global trends. Economic vulnerabilities often surface here first (and they are present now, be warned). The flow of money and its deployment are readily apparent. The city also reveals those seeking refuge from elsewhere. Miami is my chosen vantage point for observing the world.

My connection to this city spans roughly 30 years. It began with childhood trips to Florida Marlins games, followed by a hiatus before my return about 13 years ago.

As a child in the early 1990s, Miami was just beginning to recover from the turbulent drug wars of the 1970s and 1980s. Gianni Versace was alive, and the city buzzed with beautiful people reveling in the afterglow of the "Miami Vice" era. By the 2000s, that shine had dulled, and the Great Recession hit the city particularly hard.

It was against this backdrop that I returned.

The city was economically depressed, yet to me, it felt vibrantly alive. Miami Beach held hidden gems. One night, after drinks with industry acquaintances, they directed us to The Broken Shaker, a pop-up bar within a hostel. We were captivated by the cool, interesting crowd and the table tennis. Burlesque and drag shows thrived at Kill Yr. Idols. In the city, Sweat Records and Churchill’s Pub kept the city’s gritty punk history alive. Everywhere, the airwaves carried alternative Latin American music and underground house music from Europe. You could feel transported to various corners of the globe simultaneously.

I followed Miami's pulse through the Miami New Times and the blog Beached Miami. It seemed like South Florida, from West Palm Beach southward, was experiencing a resurgence after years of being the punchline of jokes.

Larger shifts were also underway. The Wynwood Walls began attracting international attention, as did Art Basel Miami Beach. Entertainers like Lil Wayne established residences. The Pérez Art Museum Miami provided a home for the city’s dynamic and global art scene. With each annual return, the city’s rapid gentrification outpaced that of other American urban centers. Concurrently, spring break grew increasingly chaotic, as did Ultra, the electronic music festival, and other events drawing young people nationwide.

The pandemic marked a tipping point. Miami reached a fever pitch just as people retreated indoors (or at least did so briefly). The city became whiter, more conservative, and increasingly driven by finance and technology professionals. Miami has always embraced conspicuous consumption, but for a brief period in the 2010s, its focus seemed to be on creation. Notably, research indicates that Florida saw a significant influx of domestic migrants during the pandemic, particularly from high-cost-of-living states.

Things change.

The city I encountered last week felt worlds apart from the one I had grown to love, the one that felt like my own big city, offering context and insight into the direction we were heading. In its place was a Disney World of the most tedious variety: beautiful and expensive, yet ultimately uninspiring.

Perhaps I have changed, but my evolution tends to be slower than Miami’s rapid transformations, so I attribute the shift to the city itself.

While Miami still draws people from across the globe, English is now more commonly heard than it was a decade ago. The presence of cryptocurrency enthusiasts and people from Middle America has increased. I was surprised to find people in jeans on a Friday night in Miami Beach. Casual attire in Miami once signified relaxed, stylish clothing. Now, it often means the same ordinary clothes seen in any American city.

Exciting dining experiences still exist – Ariete lived up to expectations, and Tropezón was a pleasant discovery – but generally, the vibrant culinary and drinking establishments of a decade ago – Yardbird, Drunken Dragon, The Broken Shaker – have been franchised and commodified. Their original concepts have been picked clean and exploited as the Millennial era fades. These same offerings are now available in almost any American city, often at a lower cost. Credit cards continue to be swiped in Miami, but the city seems to have run out of original ideas.

While I never frequented Art Basel extensively, a New York Times article last year acknowledged the global art fair’s diminished luster and its reliance on gimmicks rather than genuine innovation. This aligns with observations that perceptions of Art Basel have shifted from a novel event to a major commercial marketplace, sometimes seen as prioritizing sales over artistic merit. This same energy permeates the city. Almost everywhere feels like one of those Ocean Drive tourist traps, with someone trying to lure you in for watered-down mojitos and subpar Cuban food. The city seems too focused on profiting from its image to deliver on the substance.

The hotels on Collins Avenue are due for another round of renovations, and some, like the Shelborne and the Raleigh, are undergoing them. Others, like the Gale, where we stayed, feel worn. The hotel’s transition from Menin Hospitality Group to Hilton is evident – the rooms are tired, and the property is understaffed. What was once a hip pool getaway now struggles to replenish fresh towels for the few tourists dozing on pool chairs.

I recently discussed the distinction between tourist towns and traveler towns with a friend. Tourist towns are traps – Orlando and Key West come to mind. They attract people with broad-stroke appeals. Traveler towns offer more: adventure, choice, and experience. Some cities, like New Orleans, straddle this line. Miami also occupies this space, but lately, it feels like it’s tipping toward becoming a tourist city. Perhaps this is because the people who made it lively and invigorating are being priced out. I’ve never paid so much to be so bored. Even Orlando offers amusement park rides.

And then there’s the music, which captures Miami’s pulse. In the 1970s, it was the Allman Brothers, Eric Clapton, and Fleetwood Mac, alongside local acts like KC & the Sunshine Band. The 1980s and 1990s belonged to Gloria Estefan and the Miami Sound Machine. Just a decade ago, the city teemed with indie bands, innovative DJs, and singers.

But now? Expect the same 1990s throwback jams and Top 40 hits heard everywhere else. Sweet Liberty, once supposedly a hotspot, felt like an Applebee’s. Medium Cool, in the Gale’s basement, was hipper with better music but seemed to draw inspiration from cooler, better cities. Do Not Sit on the Furniture felt like a Siesta Key beach bar. Boring, all of it so boring.

Perhaps I’m simply nostalgic for a different time in my own life, when I was younger and slimmer, and when the Miami Heat boasted LeBron James, Chris Bosh, and Dwyane Wade. But it’s undeniable that was a defining moment for this city, and what we see now is the greedy and the uninspired vying for the remnants.

Some cool classics endure. Puerto Sagua still serves unpretentious Cuban plates in a diner setting that evokes the South Florida of my childhood. Sweat Records remains, possibly better than ever. Lionel Messi’s arrival has injected energy into the sports scene.

And there are positive developments. Spring Break had spiraled out of control, and Miami Beach’s decision to curb it was undoubtedly wise. The Beach, in particular, feels safer and more manageable without hordes of college students from New Jersey.

And the beach itself remains: crystal-clear blue waters, perfect weather. It’s the fundamental reason anyone ever came here. Pull up a chair, grab your Kindle, and while away the hours. Trust me, you aren’t missing much in town.

Downtown is another world. The skyline now resembles Manhattan. Driving there is nearly impossible. People are everywhere. The same holds true for Wynwood. These areas are fully gentrified and crowded. The Pérez Art Museum Miami still hosts excellent exhibitions and a relevant permanent collection. And the building itself is stunning, bathed in light, with bayside views and lush greenery. This is the Miami one wishes for more of.

But that skyline worries me. My understanding is that it consists mostly of unsold condos. And older condos face structural issues. If experience has taught me anything, it’s that this housing market will eventually crash. This party, which began over a decade ago and has raged through changes in presidential administrations, is nearing its end. It’s an opportune time to move to Miami if you enjoy buying high and selling low.

We were told that the energy once found in other parts of the city has migrated to Coconut Grove, and that may be true. However, the Grove appears much as it did during my visit a year ago, a far cry from the bohemian outpost of the 1960s or the dangerous underworld of the cocaine cowboys era. Again, it seems like a lot of money is being spent, but on what? If I had to guess, it’s money that needs to be spent for tax purposes.

But what Miami does well, it does exceptionally well. I mentioned the beach, but the other enduring feature is the lush greenery. Wildflowers and vibrant palm fronds frame the scene. Your selfie will look better here. I wish other Florida cities (like Jacksonville, where I live) would invest more in landscaping. It’s a simple trick, but one that has served this state well for over 200 years. Play to your strengths, Florida.

Regardless of climate change or the economy, I believe Miami is a necessary city. If it didn’t exist, we would be compelled to invent it. There needs to be a place where Anglo and Latin America intersect. The Caribbean needs its own capital. This blend – the sugar, the spice, the flair – must exist. For this reason, I believe Miami is an eternal city, as much an idea as a very real place, destined to rise and fall and rise again.

I might be among the few who look at its current state and declare the party over, but that is precisely my assessment, for now. Yes, it’s full of money and people, and things are still bustling. But the vital creativity that initially drew people here has largely departed. More exciting things are happening in Tampa and St. Petersburg (as much as it pains me to write that) than in Miami right now. Yes, it’s still Miami, and that still appeals to me and others, but if you expect to leave this city feeling inspired, you will likely be disappointed. Not at this moment.

But Miami will rebound once things clear out a bit. The wealthy will depart (or at least some will), and the creatives, the food and music industry professionals, will begin to sift through the remnants and rebuild the city – each era becoming part of its ongoing story. New eras await, and new ideas are waiting to be discovered, and they will be, I am certain, if anyone can ever afford it again.

So, go to Miami and spend your money. Observe the beautiful people. Rent the convertible. But don’t delude yourself into thinking you’ve witnessed anything more profound than beautiful water and shifting sand. There is still more to come.