South Beach in the 1990s: A Neighborhood in Transformation
1990: Barbara Baer Capitman, founder of the Miami Design Preservation League, passed away, widely memorialized in national media.
1990: Flamingo Park and Museum were designated as Historic Preservation Districts by Ordinance No. 90-2698.
1991: MDPL hosted the First World Congress on Art Deco, attracting global participation to promote preservation efforts.
1991: Remaining areas of the Miami Beach Architectural Historic District were nominated for local historic designation.
1992: The Sands Hotel, a historic Art Deco building, was demolished, creating more preservation challenges.
1992: Beth Jacob Congregation was nominated as a local Historic Site, advancing cultural heritage preservation.
1993: Congregation Beth Jacob was officially designated a Historic Preservation Site by Ordinance No. 93-2832.
1993: The demolition of the Revere Hotel by Gianni Versace spurred protests, underlining the need for stronger preservation laws.
1994: Barbara Capitman, Michael Kinerk, and Dennis Wilhelm published Rediscovering Art Deco, promoting the style’s preservation.
1994: A strengthened Historic Preservation Ordinance protected "contributing" and "historic" buildings within the National Register District.
1995: Miami Beach Woman’s Club was designated a Historic Preservation Site by Ordinance No. 95-2977.
1996: Ocean Beach and Harding Township/Altos del Mar were designated as Historic Preservation Districts under Ordinances No. 96-3037 and 96-3057, respectively.
1996: Miami Beach renamed 10th Street to "Barbara Capitman Way," honoring her legacy in preservation.
1997: Sunset Island Bridges were designated a Historic Preservation Site by Ordinance No. 97-3088.
1999: The Bath Club was designated a Historic Preservation Site, expanding protections for significant landmarks.
1999: President Bill Clinton signed an amendment to the Lanham Trademarking Act, aiding historic hotel preservation, following MDPL advocacy.
Benny glanced at Casa Casuarina, a slight smirk on his face. "When Gianni Versace came to Miami in '92, he completely redefined this place. He turned a simple rent-controlled apartment into that mansion there, and it became a cultural hub. People still talk about his impact on the fashion scene here."
Sascha raised an eyebrow. "But there was a lot of drama, right?"
Benny nodded, eyes drifting to the surrounding area. "Yeah. In '97, after Versace was murdered outside his home, the whole city's atmosphere changed. That event ended an era for Miami Beach's gay scene. But what really stirred things up was when he tore down the Revere Hotel next door."
Sascha frowned. "I thought it was a protected building?"
"Not at all," Benny said. "The Revere was built in 1950, so it wasn't under any preservation laws. Versace demolished it, sparking protests. It was a real mess, but it did lead to some changes in the city’s preservation rules. Still, it didn't fix the view issue from Casa Casuarina. The whole thing was a tangled web of history and progress."
Benny waved his hand lazily at the building in front of them. "Ah, 1450 Collins Avenue—now that’s a place with a history. This used to be the Warsaw, a nightclub where the real Miami Beach nightlife legends were born. You had Gary James, Michael Capponi, Suzanne Bartsch, Louis Canales... even Gianni Versace hosted his wild parties here."
Sascha raised an eyebrow. "Wild parties?"
Benny grinned. "Oh, yes. The kinds of parties where anything went. We're talking foam parties, underwear parties, belly dancers, drag queens, gangsters, ravers — it was a real circus. And don’t even get me started on the Battle of the Bods. Versace hosted private parties just for fun, not for profit."
Sascha looked intrigued. "And no paparazzi, I assume?"
"Exactly," Benny said with a smirk. "Celebrities like Madonna and Elton John would stroll in unnoticed, just a part of the scene. Ingrid Casares once told me they’d walk from News Cafe, casually planning their night without anyone bothering them. It was the last place you'd find a camera flash. And the venue's slogan? 'We came. We saw. We Warsaw.'"
Benny leaned back on his beach towel. "Sascha, this is 12th Street Beach, the crown jewel of Miami’s gay scene. Usually, it’s packed with tourists—volleyball games, rainbow flags snapping in the breeze, lifeguard towers that scream Art Deco fabulousness. But right now, it’s oddly quiet."
Sascha glanced around, his ears twitching slightly. "Quiet indeed. Perhaps the allure of your precious Miami is fading?"
Benny snorted, brushing sand off his swimtrunks. "Not likely. They’re probably all starting to head to the clubs. It’s a cycle, you know. Linger on the beach all day, refuel at the Palace Bar, and then migrate to Twist or Score by night. It’s not laziness; it’s strategy. Miami thrives on rhythm: sun, sand, and strobe lights."
Sascha scoffed. "How very predictable. And here I thought this beach was the centerpiece of their existence."
Benny rolled his eyes. "It is — when the sun’s up. But nightlife fuels this city, my friend. If you want crowds, we should be heading west, not staying here on this powdery white sand. Trust me, this place transforms after dark, like a phoenix rising from its SPF-coated ashes."
"You know, Sascha," Benny began, his tone uncharacteristically reflective, "this city is layers upon layers of history and culture, most of it built by people who were overlooked or outright shunned. Places like the Revere Hotel or the Warsaw Ballroom were lifelines for communities trying to carve out a space in a world that didn’t want them."
Sascha tilted his head, intrigued. "I didn’t expect you to get sentimental, Benny. Are you lamenting Miami’s lost architecture, or something more?"
"Both, maybe. When you think about the queer Cuban rafters... they were doing more than just surviving. They were turning pain into performance, challenging every rigid expectation thrown at them. Drag, activism, parody — it was a rebellion against forgetting. That’s what Miami is, really — a rebellion against amnesia about who REALLY built this place."
Sascha gave a rare smile. "So these layers you speak of... they’re what make the city worth visiting?"
Benny nodded, his voice softening. "Exactly. Preserving these spaces and stories isn’t just about history—it’s about keeping the spirit alive. Sure, gentrification has paved over some of it, but every rainbow lifeguard tower and every drag queen on Ocean Drive is a reminder of what’s still here. And what could be lost if we’re not careful."
Okay, so now you’re feelin’ why Art Deco and the LGBTQ+ scene are, like, totally tight, right? Those old-school buildings got tricked out into these killer nightclubs, but they kept all the OG vibes. How gnarly is that? Plus, there’s a little somethin’ for everyone. Like, I heard about this spot called AJAXX Industrial — you’d probably dig it. It’s got this ice-cold, tech-noir feel, straight-up like a Nine Inch Nails video... you know who they are, right?
I suppose it could be worth a visit, purely to observe how they’ve repurposed the architecture and curated the atmosphere. The tech-noir concept might warrant... further analysis.