Trends and Entertainment

Recession Dispatch from…Miami

As I write this, a gleaming, blue-hulled yacht about 100 feet long is gliding by on Biscayne Bay. Speakers on an empty rear deck blast the Gipsy Kings.

If Miami were a person, it would be well-toned and tanned, somewhat imperious and, of course, superficial to the Nth degree. It’s an image that goes a long way toward describing the city’s condition in the midst of national economic doldrums.

Sure, we’re hurting—with foreclosure rates among the nation’s highest, a building boom stopped dead in its tracks and tourism down—but the business and political elite tend to ignore flaws or alter them cosmetically. Think of it as a boob job for a sagging economy.

Canyons of glittering white highrise condos conceal idled elevators and dark lobbies— victims of unpaid maintenance fees. While the skyline was littered with cranes less than four years ago, the jackhammers of progress and the jabber jaws of speculation have largely gone quiet. The local real estate market lost more than a quarter of its value last year alone.

In some residential neighborhoods, foreclosure signs are almost as common as mailboxes. Even small, long-stable condo communities are looking at bleak crystal balls. A friend of mine is considering declaring bankruptcy to get off his condo association’s sinking ship. Seven of seventeen units there are in foreclosure or have stopped paying any fees, forcing others to carry the costs.

Still, irrational exuberance isn’t dead.

The number of condominium units in Miami’s relatively compact downtown nearly tripled between 2003 and 2008, according to brokerage and advisory firm Condo Vultures. Most market analysts predict the housing surplus will last about five years. That’s heady news, some locals say, pointing to low rents and plenty of good buys.

Perhaps unsurprisingly for a body-obsessed town, gyms have been opening at breakneck speed. Along a relatively short stretch of Biscayne Boulevard, Miami’s main north-south thoroughfare, at least ten fitness centers have opened in the past two years.

Among the numerous high-end eateries to open in the past year are ventures by Laurent Tourondel, Daniel Boulud and Wolfgang Puck. Perhaps most ostentatious of all, Karu & Y, a $25 million restaurant-cum-club, re-opened after a second multi-million dollar renovation. The Fontainebleau Hotel in Miami Beach, recently re-opened after a $1 billion makeover, added to the tally no less than 11 upscale restaurants, including Gotham Steak and Scarpetta. Next door, the Eden Roc Hotel is fresh from its own $200 million upgrade, complete with a new beachfront eatery. Also soon to come: a caviar bar, a version of the famed Paris restaurant Au Pied de Cochon and a 14,000-square-foot dining and entertainment venue downtown, among other pricey spots.

The culinary profusion, especially on the fine dining end, prompted Miami New Times food critic Lee Klein to write that the Magic City had “finally joined the big league of American food cities.”

Meanwhile, Miami’s monied class, never shy about flaunting its wealth, has continued consuming as conspicuously as ever. South Beach suffers no shortage of folk tooling around in Bentleys, toting $5,000 handbags or lounging on brobdingnagian pleasure crafts.

Even now, a few properties on the market have asking prices higher than Miami’s all-time priciest sale: a $27 million estate on swanky Star Island. A 10-bedroom, 10-bathroom house in the gated community of Indian Creek takes the cake with a $57 million asking price. Built last year, the 30,000 square-foot waterfront mansion boasts a rooftop lawn, “outdoor cascade,” spa and panic room.

Politicians, too, seem oblivious to the global storm. Miami-Dade County commissioners recently approved almost $500 million in public funding for a new Florida Marlins stadium. Local officials are pushing hard for a $1 billion underwater truck tunnel to connect the port and Interstate 95.

Bureaucratic bungling doesn’t surprise people here. A popular old bumper sticker proclaims the city’s status as the “banana republic of Miami.” Despite its global image of glitz, glam and glistening bodies, Miami vies for the annual title of America’s poorest large city. It has the highest percentage of immigrants of any city in the world. Many of them escaped failing countries, and are struggling to survive here.

One of America’s poorest zip codes (Liberty City) is here. Then again, so is one of the wealthiest (Fisher Island). If that seems like a contradiction, you don’t understand Miami. Call it denial or ignorance or callousness. In Miami, we call it a way of life.

Rob Jordan is a freelance writer/editor based in Miami. His career has spanned a wide range of locales from Alabama to Japan and jobs from river ranger to English teacher.

Tags: eating, Miami, politics, real estate, shopping