Miami News Blog

Photo via kimkardashian.celebbuzz.com

​There are very few things that a Kardashian can't do. They can turn forgetting to take your bc pills and unprotected sex into an adorable anecdote! They can force you into the background of your own wedding picture! And now they can materialize in Sunrise, Florida to celebrate the opening of a store where nothing costs more than $100. Well, the Kim Kardashian can. She'll be at Sawgrass Mills from 6 to 9 p.m. to fete the opening of A'GACI, a store where trendy and cheap are the couture du jour and "sale" means that items drop below ten bucks.

Check out Kim's five favorite looks or just ogle Reggie Bush's two favorite cheeks, but you have to email RSVP@skirpr.com to get on the list.

Bill Cooke

Trisha Posner (left), Irene Marie, and Tara Solomon

​Just last week, investigative journalist Gerald Posner complained to the New York Post that no one in town would throw a party for the release of his new book detailing the cocaine-fueled history of Miami Beach, Miami Babylon. Not even Tara Solomon, who would throw a party for anything.

Well, there might not have been an open bar and a guest list, but boldface names showed up for Posner's reading and book signing last night at Design Within Reach on Lincoln Road. Bill Cooke, camera in hand, snapped pics of Tara Solomon, Irene Marie, and former Miami Beach Mayor Alex Daoud. Current Mayor Matti Bower, Carlos Betancourt, and designer Barbara Hulanicki were also reportedly in attendance.

While those folks were content to hear Posner tell tales of a time when they were all relevant, noticeably absent was Ingrid Casares. She took to Twitter today to declare, "gerald posners book.. is complete fiction.. maybe all those facelifts clouded his memory.. pathetic."

Click here view the full slide show from the event.

Photo by Logan Fazio

​Despite us bashing PETA for its excessive use of sex to sell its point, we admit we were a bit intrigued that the group was planning to stage a "lie-in" at Bayfront Park while posing as "naked fish." Can't blame us for getting excited about any kind of disturbance in a city where people seem to take a stand only when it involves Fidel Castro.

Alas, seems like it wasn't what we had hoped for. "Naked" meant girls in pasties, which doesn't qualify as naked in our book. And the only people there seemed to be the five "naked fish," some PETA coordinators, a few photographers, and Miami Police. Nobody got hauled off to jail, nobody got splashed with red paint, and nobody got naked. "The most interesting thing that happened was when the cops came and said [the "naked fish"] couldn't lay there, so they had to stand up," reported our photographer, Logan Fazio.

Click here to view the full slide show of today's protest.

Lorraine Nevot

​Being a chubby girl on South Beach is a lot like having pigeon toes in a gym class full of Dwyane Wades. With all of those high-heeled model types, it's easy to feel inadequate.

Lorraine Nevot knows that feeling well. The heavyset, 27-year-old teaching assistant says Club B.E.D. turned her away from a Monday-night party because she's fat. It bothered her so much she posted an ad on Craigslist recruiting other women who've had similar experiences. She hopes to file a lawsuit. "If you're overweight or ugly, they won't let you in," she says. "I felt like crying."

The club's operations director, Nathan Forster, argues the Washington Avenue hot spot is open to everyone. "It's the doorman's discretion how we choose to represent the club... It's mostly about being dressed appropriately."

Last month, Lorraine heard about a free ladies night at the club. The place is soaked in red lighting and features musical guests such as Rick Ross and Brian McKnight. On this night, there was a free dinner. Lorraine thought it sounded fun, so she arrived early with her sister. "We were the first ones there. We were in nice dress shirts, makeup, and accessories."

Tonight, if muzak is what you're running from and music is what you're after, check out Jacob's Ladder at the Dugout, or dance while Marques Wyatt spins at the Electric Pickle.

If your winter lover dumped you for the summer, watch two happy people -- Tony n' Tina -- get faux-married at Mansion (there will be champagne and a buffet, we promise). Then hit Local Motion at Nocturnal (no one's married or responsible there, we promise).

MoCA's Optic Nerve XI will show you films that are too short, too innovative, and too damn good for your local megaplex.

Click here for Saturday's happenings and here for Sunday's. There's the SoFla return of DMX, the Daytona 500 of go-kart racing, and Death Print. Take that, last weekend!

photo by Jesse Meadows

Some commodes are strictly utilitarian, while others provide elaborate sets for your Broadway-worthy shit show. One such place is the powder room at Culture Kings, a Design District boutique that began calling the area home and selling cool, exclusive street wear way before big names such as Marni and Y-3 caught on to the movement west of the railroad tracks. If the sterility of white walls conjures images of the Lysol-scented room where your gran hung her douche bag, you'll revel in the frenetic aesthetic of the Kings' loo. According to owner Chris Oh, the sticker bonanza "just happened organically," beginning with one panel and resulting in what you see above. It's a work in progress, meaning the next time you visit, the place could look even cooler. A second bathroom boasts a hip-hop theme.

In other Culture Kings art news, a few months ago, Oh transformed his office space into a place where works from local artists are on display. Visit culturekings.com to keep up with the rotating exhibit.

Jipsy

Has Shop Miami been moved to the clearance rack? Click here to view the full slideshow.

Under the weight of Miami's summer heat, Gen Art once again took over the Moore Building in Miami's Design District for Shop Miami. But like everything this year, it seems 2009's edition was only a shell of its former self. That's not to say we regret awarding the event "Best Place to Meet Single Women" in this year's Best of Miami -- it still is -- but the economy must have hit Gen Art pretty hard. The usual fashion show was scrapped and attendance was noticeably lighter.

Still, Shop Miami knows what it does best. Three floors of sample sales from local designers including Art of Shade, Ecoist, KRELwear, and "Best Trend" winner Gold Saturn had women rummaging through racks of clothing. Riptide's only complaint once again was its menswear selection, which is virtually nonexistent except for a few booths.

As we stood by the bar ordering a Kiwi Libre, 42Below Vodka's take on a Cuba Libre made with its kiwi-flavored spirit (which gave the concoction more of a banana flavor if you asked us), our bartender blurted out "There are no hot women here!"

What?

"Yeah, what's up with that?"

Suppose you can add that to our list of disapointments. Let's hope 2010 is a better year for the event.

Tomorrow's the final day of Board up Miami, South Florida's premiere wakeboarding festival; and in case you were thinking about not going out to the Miami Marine Stadium (3601 Rickenbacker Cswy, Miami), here's a clip of Darin Shapiro, a South Florida native and the most winning rider in the history of the sport, doing a move we couldn't pull off in our dreams. Watch him go head to head with pros and amateurs live from noon to 4 p.m. 

via Details

By now we all know what Alex Rodriguez was doing on the morning of February 5. He was working out at the University of Miami like he always does. A pre-spring training ritual that on any other morning would have been hardly worth noting, but this was the morning when intrepid Sports Illustrated reporter Selena Roberts arrived after trying to track A-Rod down all through out Miami. This was the morning she informed him she had confirmed with four independent sources that he had indeed tested positive for steroids during his time with the Texas Rangers and planned to publish the accusations. This was the morning any other sports mega-star, after years of denying steroid use, would prepare for crises management mode. But not Alex Rodriguez. No, after dodging one journalist, he meet up for an interview with another. 

Dee Adames brings her shear genius to D&L Salon.

If Dee Adames - Miami's mohawked winner of  the second season of Sheer Genius - could describe herself as any animal, she'd choose a cat.

"They're mysterious and slightly territorial," she laughs as muted episodes of the Bravo reality show in which she won plays on a flat screen inside her South Miami salon, D&L Hair Studio (7301 SW 57 Court, South Miami).

And yes, the "D" does stand for Dee. But don't mistake this San Antonio native as some ankle-scratching hisser marking her property with sprays of Paul Mitchell  hair products (a brand that cultivated her career) and obvious self-promotion.

She's a talented kitty. Like the kind that's able to use chopsticks at dinner-time. Or like Kmart, her own cat, whose name derives from the blue lit, Martha Stewart-loving super store in which he was rescued by a friend who found the furry creature to be friendly, strong, and resourceful.

Riptide heard a rumor there's a smidgen of a rivalry between the campy old-school drag queens and the glammed-out young divas on the Miami scene. So we stopped by the Shelley Novak Awards -- the gay community's parody of the Oscars -- last night at Score, but found more ass slaps, hugs, and sex jokes than any sort of nasty competitiveness.

Shelley Novak, South Beach's fabulous semi-retired queen of drag, started the show with a duet. Her partner in crime: the self-deprecating, blond-wigged Joanna Mills. While presenting "most glamorous" underneath a giant disco ball, Joanna -- clad in a tighter-than-imaginable tan spandex dress -- cracked, "You have no idea what it took to get in this dress. Not just emotionally but physically. The recoil on this thing could send me to Hialeah!"

Photographers laughed and snapped shots with long-lensed, expensive cameras. A short, ponytailed straight girl commented, "It's really sad -- they look better in a dress that I do." Tables full of well-groomed gay boys clapped and sipped cocktails.

 

So we were driving through Hialeah a few days ago when we saw a billboard advertising Daddy Yankee's cologne. Yeah, yeah, it launched a couple of months ago, but this is the first we've heard of it, and before you blast us for old news you should consider the ramifications of revealing you're on Daddy Yankee's press e-mail list.

The Latin icon officially joined the Pete Rose Pantheon of Unwise Publicity Stunts when he endorsed doomed Old White Man icon John McCain in August. You know you've stepped over the line into soul-sucking media whore status when Fat Joe -- he who had his sponsor Bacardi's logo set in a diamond chain -- accuses you of being a sell-out.

But it got us thinking: Miami might be ground zero for the celebrity cologne industry. After all, nothing says image-conscious excess -- our national specialty -- like paying $49 for a sleek three-ounce bottle of star-blessed ferret piss. So we've reviewed a few of the scents hawked by local glitterati. The research yielded one disappointment: 2 Live Crew ass connoisseur Luther "our favorite famous resident" Campbell hasn't gotten around to marketing his own fragrance. We're guessing "Booty Spray" didn't test well.

Jacqueline Carini

Dr. Michael Salzhauer at his plastic surgery runway show at Bal Harbour Plastic Surgery Associates. Click here to view the full slideshow.

It never fails: just as we finish explaining to our out-of-town friends that Miami's not really like that, we catch wind of something like this: a Plastic Surgery Fashion Show.

Last Thursday night, you could smell the silicone on Bay Harbor Islands. As a mitzvah-trained DJ spun techno music, partygoers munched on pigs-in-a-blanket as they studied before-and-after boob-job photos on the walls. It was the grand opening gala for the new five-story complex for Bal Harbour Plastic Surgery Associates, founded by local fake-boob tycoon Dr. Michael Salzhauer. He's been in business down the street in Bal Harbour for six years, and is the author of "My Beautiful Mommy", his illustrated tome for children watching their mothers undergo plastic surgery. The book includes such not-at-all-shiver-inducing lines as: "We are learning about butterflies and watching cocoons hatch. Mommy laughed and said she felt like a cocoon herself with all the bandages."

As resident Loon Elyse Wanshel illustrated in September, when she set out to ruthlessly mock a $55 brunch for dogs but couldn't bring herself to do it, it's really difficult to hate on animal lovers, even frivolous ones.

Even more so when we're talking about a good cause. So imagine our inner turmoil when we caught wind of tomorrow's Pawpurrazi, Miami's ultimate animal gala at Jungle Island, with tickets costing $350 to $1,000. In the press release we received, the reckless pet puns don't stop with the event's over-the-top name: yes, the word "bone-a-fide" is used, and humans and animals are referred to as "two-legged guests" and "four-legged guests," respectively. But we'll forgive them for that -- and even the "doggie ice cream" "doggie massages," and canine runway fashion show that's on the schedule, because the ticket proceeds go to the Humane Society, and we can't muster the snark to shoot that down.

It seems Miami long ago made a conscious decision to pretend it's not in a recession -- what with the rotating skyscrapers and free Lamborghinis and million-dollar party favors. If we're gonna toss money around like it's 1994, might as well be Fido that's balling out of control. The extravaganza -- which also includes an open Bacardi bar and a Saks Fifth Avenue fashion show not featuring dogs -- kicks off at 7 p.m. tomorrow. For tickets, call 305-749-1815.

As gatekeepers to the illustrious Night & Day section, we have email inboxes that are assaulted with party flyers alllll day long. Some advertise nondescript functions that should never be discussed beyond a church bulletin board and others are cool as hell. But every once in a while we get one that makes us wonder wtf these promoters are thinking. Today's moment came from Majestic Saturdays at the Nikki Marina, which claims to be the "definition of luxury."

First, let's define luxury. Yes it's about mink stoles and diamond-studded soup spoons, but luxury can also be defined as the freedom to indulge in the little things that can make life a little more enjoyable. So when we scrolled to the bottom of the flyer and landed at the section labeled "Dress Code," we were disappointed to see that not only were the ladies banned from the comfortably luxurious act of wearing flat shoes at the Marina, but that absolutely no loud colored clothing would be allowed.

Today is historic. We know. The "h" word has been uttered over and over again since Barack Obama first announced that he was running for the U.S. Presidency. Today's inauguration is a magical moment, a changing of the guard. But it also means that the nearly 2 years of political bickering, extremist ministers, and talking heads is OVER. So whether you wanted McCain to win or have been a passenger on the Obama wagon, you must celebrate the end of the 2008 election brouhaha. Take a shot for "No Mo Bush" or make a toast for the man with dope Presidential swag. Whatever you do, hit the streets tonight and celebrate with your fellow countrymen.

The Miami-Dade County Democratic Party is taking over the Rusty Pelican and will be the place to be for beer-wielding legislators. The start time is 8 p.m., and those downtown types are usually prompt so you should be too. Tickets start at 20 bucks, call 305-781-9177 to get yours. The Pelican is at 3201 Rickenbacker Cswy, Key Biscayne.

SushiSamba Dromo is injecting its usual east-west flair and having an inauguration edition of its kooky-chic Cosplay Tuesday. There'll be appetizer and cocktail specials all night and of course, three cocktails to honor the red, white and blue. Try the All American Cocktail Tree and you'll be yelling "Yes we did" all fucking night. Best red, white and blue costume wins cash. The party starts at 7 at 600 Lincoln Road, South Beach.

Check out more of tonight's plans after the jump.

The fog machine cranked up 'round midnight, and as the chill was brrrewng outside, it was warm and toasty inside of SushiSamba Dromo for the second anniversary of Cosplay. Dozens of folks came to gawk, but those who came to celebrate pulled out their best disguises and did this Harajuku-style party to the fullest. A lonely Linx, tranny Ariel (of Disney's Little Mermaid fame), and I celebrated the weekly party's terrible two with music by Royal Derelicts and a shot tree full of wonderful gifts which brought me to my liquor-thirsty knees. The gold-clad host begged the crowd to put their fingers in the air and yell, "Fuck you, attitude check," and with middle digits swaying, everyone did as they were told.

My night ended before the winner of the thousand-dollar costume contest was announced, and I'm still curious about the winner. Would it be the 8 foot (on stilts) dude with the gold-flecked bridle and fierce horse mane or the noticeably heroin-less and eerily coherent Amy Winehouse look-alike?

-- Raina McLeod

EliteXC Heat
October 4, 2008
BankAtlantic Center

Better Than: The WWE and the WBA combined.

By now you know: Kimbo Slice got knocked out at the BankAtlantic Center last night. Okay, so it was only a technical knock out, but a TKO that comes 14 seconds into a fight may as well be called a knockout. Hell, if the chatter on the MMA blogs is any indication, it may just have knocked Kimbo out of the cage for good.

And, yes, I missed it. Oh, I was cageside for EliteXC’s Heat all right, but I bounced before the main event. Why? Well, because Ken Shamrock, the cat Kimbo was supposed to fight, bowed out right before CBS went live with the program.

The reason: docs determined “The World’s Most Dangerous Man” was unfit to fight because he “suffered” a small cut above his left eye during day-of training.

Really.

A few hours ago, Sweat Record’s Barack N’ Roll Bake Sale + Voter Registration drew an unexpected character: a wayward, 84-year-old Miami granny by the name of Dory.

Amid all the hip haircuts and soy lattes, the wrinkled retiree waddled over to a table of registration slips, and pinned a baby blue Obama ‘08 button on her floral blouse. Munching on a cupcake, she stopped abruptly and turned towards me. Then she confessed her one concern about the Obama-Biden campaign.

“Excuse me,” she says, wiping frosting from her chin with a napkin. “Do you know if Barack has stopped smoking? I just finished his book -- and I liked it very much -- but I’m worried about his health. And all that soda he drinks. Now, I’m not saying this to be a goody two-shoes. We just need him right now.”

Before I could answer, she launched into why her daughter should also quit smoking, followed by something about how fifties actress Debbie Reynolds couldn’t get pregnant, followed by the fact that she used to live with Muslims. And then looping back -- sort of -- to the Iraq war.

I love old people logic.

Stoked to hear she’s voting Democratic, I probed her for how many of her senior citizen friends are down with Obama. “Oh, we don’t talk about those things, sweetheart,” she says. “That’s why we’re still friends.”

The smart old broad, who was more up on breaking election coverage than this reporter, noticed the indie record shop’s event in the New Times, “a trashy paper” that “drops too many F-words.” (Sorry, Dory.) So she came to prove that it’s not just the dumb, young progressive types, who believe we can turn around this past train wreck of an administration.

Nodding towards a table of volunteer signup sheets and a donation bucket, on her way out, she adds: “I sure hope this works.”

-- Natalie O'Neill

We aren't exactly ones partake in fashion events, but Riptide is anywhere free drinks are being served. So when Ocean Drive held its Tuesday night Fall Fashion Week event at its new Midtown photo studios, we were relieved when we were immediately greeted by cocktails of Orzel vodka and Vitamin Water. But we had to act like we were here for the fashion -- er, we mean we were here for the fashion.

The runway took up an awkward section of the back portion of the studio, in which the crowd, standing-room only, was on one side and the band and DJ Mark Leventhal were on the other. It made for some uncomfortable viewing since really only for first three rows of people could really see what was happening. But since this was a ready-to-wear fashion show with items already found in stores, those in the back weren't missing anything earth shattering.

In fact, Riptide was a little bored that we took to commenting about the models. Vinci, of 8th & Ocean and ¡Viva Hollywood!, strutted across the catwalk and all we could think isn't this guy's 15 minutes up already. When another model came out looking apathetic and like she didn't want to be there, we blurted out "God, why doesn't she kill herself already?" much to amusement of others who were standing nearby who laughed at our comment. So much for being discreet.

-- Jose D. Duran

One has to tip the chapeau to Anthony Spinello. The spunky young dealer has transformed his modest gallery about as often as his competitors change their underwear. During this past Saturday’s Wynwood season-opening art walk, he stopped traffic along NW Second Avenue, outhustling most of the bigger venues fishing for eyeballs on a night when the crowds where the largest in recent memory.

“I wanted to create a museum show in my small space,” said Spinello. “The artist spent nearly two months this summer preparing for this show.”

Emotional Response Can Be Deconditioned marked Federico Nessi’s first solo exhibit at Spinello. The 26-year-old artist succeeded in conveying the sense of someone undergoing a Skinnerian douche following the wreckage of a tormented relationship. “It deals with the Seventies notion that aversion therapy could be used to control emotions,” Nessi explained. “I wanted to create an environment where people would find themselves experiencing the anxiety and confusion of uncertainty in a visceral way.”

While it might be every day that one or more of the four Books & Books stores has some kinda reading, it certainly isn’t every day that the good folks permit a bad cat like me to introduce whoever’s turning the pages -- and for damn good reason, too. I mean, given the podium, who knows what I might do? Not them, of course (how could they?). And not me either. Especially when you consider I’ve no idea what I’m doing.

Okay, so I do have some idea, sorta, but that doesn’t make it bright. Unless by bright you mean dim, dark and dangerous. See, last night I set the stage for a reading by a deeply enlightening Scot named Irvine Welsh using a combination of flashbacks, scare tactics and murder ballads that had never seen the sun.

This past week, I accepted an invitation to hang out on the set of an erotic video shoot, in order to do research for a story. There would be no actual sex, I was told, but I’d be in for a treat.

The video was shot, acted, and produced -- albeit as a home movie, in low-budget fashion -- by four of Miami’s most kickass Amazon Women. The girls, some of whom stood seven feet in heels and weighed in at 380 pounds, cater to a man’s desire to feel small. They hold private fetish sessions and come together to make movies for the Internet.

Cuban rapper Pitbull's Mun2 show La Esquina is always interesting. To prove his point about the reality of Cuban immigration, Pitbull wagers that two of his costars couldn't even survive in inner tubes in the local pool for a few hours.

To confront hip-hop culture's attitude towards homosexuality, the rapper's co-star, Fademaster, makes a homophobic friend take on a gay man in the boxing ring.

It's a format that doesn't need tinkering with. But the show's opening is getting a whole new look for its second season. Artists Not Criminals, a graffiti company, is painting a mural on the side of the show's eponymous main setting, Fademaster's La Esquina barbershop on Calle Ocho. The new opening will be a stop motion sequence of the mural's creation.

That's the message of upstart T-shirt label Gold Saturn. Designed by David Jon Acosta, an alumnus of the Art Institute in Miami, the tee range features graphics like pills arranged in a peace sign, dubbed "prescription for peace", and a pot-leaf stamped pony urging you to "get high on love". The shirts come in hipster friendly v-neck and tank top cuts for both guys and girl, and start at $35.

The Miami label is asking for help in picking its next design. Visitors can throw their support behind a mushroom that looks like the Village People's cop on 4/20, a call to not drink and dance, or two other designs.

Kyle Munzenrieder

Miami New Times dominated the South Florida Black Journalists Association contest at the Lyric Theatre on Saturday. Drumroll, please. Patrice Elizabeth Grell-Yursik took first for Pretty in the City as the best blog . Chuck Strouse took a first for commentary on “Reporter on the Lam.” Isaiah Thompson won in sports for "Grady and the Champ," Jeanine Zeitlin in international reporting for a story about Haitian refugees, and Tamara Lush in feature reporting for a story about the vodou.

As the outer bands of Tropical Storm Fay went over South Florida, local stations were having a field day. It had been some time since the area was threaten by storm. WSVN reporter Rene Marsh stood along the shore of some unnamed beach is Islamorada using words like "choppy waters" and "intensifying" to describe the anemic waves crashing on the sand.

Over at WFOR, reporter Gary Nelson downplayed the storm much to dismay of the anchors who quickly reminded him that "the worse was far from over." They cut to National Hurricane Center director Ed Rappaport who played along with the hype of Fay warning of "warm waters" and possible intensification. Meteorologist Jeff Berardelli placed emphasis on "bands" and tornado warning, urging people to move into a closet or bathroom if a tornado approached.

Despite the "warnings" of the TV journalists, I decide to go out anyway. Rain comes and goes, but not enough to deter me from my plans. A friend picks me up around 10:45 p.m. and we head to White Room, located on the fringes of Overtown, where its Monday night party Exposure is having some "official" Tropical Storm Fay party. The gimmick? People who come in a bathing suit or raincoat get a free shot of whatever premixed concoction they come up with.

I like wearing panties, and walking around in high heels.

I like wearing a G-string and handcuffs while being flogged by a dominatrix.

I like having a ball gag in my mouth and a blindfold over my eyes while a dominatrix spanks me.

It is fun. You should try it.

Read all about club editor Jason Handelsman's experience as South Florida performance artist ScaryMary's gimp in this week's issue of the New Times, out tomorrow. Can't wait until then? Then check out the photos we couldn't print (NSFW).

-- Jason Handelsman

You wouldn’t have noticed it Wednesday night unless you listened closely, but House speaker Nancy Pelosi waited 40 minutes to mention Democratic presidential candidate Barack Obama.

It was a major diss. It hurt.

The reason: Pelosi was speaking in Coral Gables to an audience of about 1,200 wealthy Floridians – many of them Jews, who are critical to Obama’s run both here and nationally. She was shilling for her new book, “Know Your Power, a Message to America’s Daughters,” at a forum set up by Books & Books at Temple Judea on Grenada.

On most days like Saturday, kids are racing to get away from the heat by jumping in to the nearest body of water they can find. But the anime fans that attended the 6th annual Yasumicon at FIU donned their multi-layered, and multi-colored costumes despite the sweltering weather and flooded the school.

From the second that visitors stepped out of their cars, droves of cosplayer (people in costumes for those not versed in anime-speak) could be seen making their way to the Graham Center ballroom, where vendors specializing in everything Japanese from snacks to manga set up shop. Some of the stuff seemed a bit pricy, but considering that the average cosplayer spent a couple hundred on their costumes, the prices were relatively okay. I still wouldn’t shell out $500 for a damn doll, but hey, to each their own.