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1674-11 Ian Schrager 16 09/16/1995 1 130 mh95 INTERVENTION IN HAITI SLOWLY RESTORING PEACE 59 Docs Pg 1 of 4 Printing . . . Printing . . . DOC DATE FREQ LINES DB HEADLINE 33 06/29/1995 2 36 mh95 U.S. JUDGES 34 06/28/1995 5 142 mh95 THE AN WHO WANT TO REINVENT MIAMI 35 06/25/1995 31 121 mh95 HOTEL CHIC 36 06/25/1995 2 60 mh95 VISITORS TAKE TOUCHING TRIP THROUGH JEWISH H 37 06/19/1995 1 115 mh95 HEADING TO THE POLLS 38 06/12/1995 2 130 mh95 HAITIAN ARMY TRADES 39 06/09/1995 3 91 mh95 40 05/28/1995 3 92 mh95 IN MAGIC FIEFDOM OF DISNEY, DEMOCRACY HIGHLY 41 05/12/1995 2 109 mh95 42 05/07/1995 2 45 mh95 43 04/28/1995 1 86 mh95 44 04/26/1995 2 66 mh95 U.S. SAYS 45 04/22/1995 2 53 mh95 HAITI TO END REPATRIATION AGREEMENT WITH U.S 46 04/19/1995 1 83 mh95 MILLIONAIRE, 61, PLANS LAVISH WEDDING TO MOD 47 04/08/1995 2 82 mh95 CRIME, FRONTIER JUSTICE HOBBLE HAITI 48 04/08/1995 1 35 mh95 59 Docs Pg 3 of 4 Printing . . . Press [RETURN] to continue or type q to return to Menu: ♦ mh95 ABSOLUTELY DELANO 12/03/1995 THE MIAMI HERALD Copyright (c) 1995, The Miami Herald DATE: Sunday, December 3, 1995 EDITION: FINAL SECTION: LIVING PAGE: 1J LENGTH: 226 lines ILLUSTRATION: color photo: Clint Archambaul and Darlyne Chauve at Bice Restaurant (a) , Delano exterior (a) , Delano interior (a) , Designer Douglas Somerville at the Delano pool (a) ; photo: Doormen -- dressed all in white in the Delano' s lobby (a) , Guests play an oversize chess game (a) , exterior of the Delano Hotel (a) SOURCE/CREDIT LINE: LYDIA MARTIN Herald Staff Writer ABSOLUTELY DELANO THE RULES ARE DIFFERENT AT THE WORLD' S MOST FABULOUS HOTEL, WHERE COOL IS SO UNREAL IT' S REAL A high hedge ensconcing an unpretentious blue door is all that divides the vernacular from the surreal on Collins Avenue. It begs for a warning sign: Abandon all ties to reality, ye who enter here. Step off the sidewalk and you are seized. In a South Beach second you are free-falling into the urgent chic of the stark white Delano. It might well be the hippest hotel on earth, there at the end of unrefined 16th Street. On one side of the hedge is the humble 35-cent cafecito, the tourist shops that hawk flower- print bathing suits. On the other, an ethereal place shrouded in gauze-white curtains where the absolutely fabulous meet the wannabes. In this place, you could find yourself chomping granola next to k.d. lang at the faux kitchen counter one day, slathering cream cheese on bagels alongside Kate Moss the next (noting that: wow, the waif can wolf it down) . One day you' re locking eyes with Jack Nicholson as he passes through the dim lobby, the next you' re making small talk in the "orchard" with David Geffen (as in Geffen Records, as in one of the first to console Yoko after John' s murder. ) Suspending disbelief is the only line of defense for a mere mortal entering the theater of the Delano, the newest installment by haute hotelier Ian Schrager. This is, after all, the man who gave us Studio 54 as the quintessence of the ' 70s disco-induced hedonism. He still has a knack for the now. In the continuum of space and time, there is sometimes a critical juncture, a synchronism that yields the sublime place at the sublime moment. It is the Delano, this second. This 238-room Deco tower, built in 1947 and named after Franklin Delano Roosevelt, has been reincarnated -- for $22 million -- as the essence of the 1990s. It is self-indulgence kept in check by morning-after sobriety. This place reminds: It ' s been a long time since Studio 54 closed and Schrager did time for tax evasion. The drink of choice at the Delano is Evian, the first order of the day a workout in the David Barton gym. This place would not dream of placing chocolate on your pillow at turn-down time. Instead, it supplies a fresh green apple each day, perched on a silver sconce. Guests loiter with studied disaffection. It ' s like a sanitarium where noise is banned and emotion is kept on ice. Interaction among the patients seems to be discouraged. You can spend six hours by the pool and never even hear a splash. Only the uncool would talk about this place while they' re in it, or gape at the celebs, or comment about the small portions on the dinner plates. "The Delano is the kind of place where nobody is going to walk up to Demi Moore and ask her for an autograph, " says manager David Miskit. In fact, she is in the hotel right now. But she hasn't made any appearances. It is in this milieu that we encounter Douglas Somerville, 37, an interior designer from Vancouver who can make things happen with a flash of his designer smile. Where the pearly-whites fail him, the Platinum card kicks in. He is at the Delano doing the thing Delano people do best. He is working it. He has agreed to meet us for an afternoon cocktail at the spot Delano designer Philippe Starck calls his salon d'eau, as in, the water salon, as in, the pool. It is a 150-foot sheet of flat blue water that perpetually brims over, one inch deep in the shallowest end, five feet at the deepest. It is intended to dissuade anything as prosaic as laps -- the idea is to luxuriate in wetness . Under the surface there are strains of classical music. Not that anyone who first encounters it will look surprised. Today there is a chorus line of perfect boys sunbathing in the neat row of lounges that fringes the . . . salon. Most are bronzing for the White Party. None of them is Douglas. Douglas, we cannot find. We make our way to the poolside bar, on the verge of aborting this 9"' mission when he peers from around a wall. He is on a mercifully-hidden pay phone, massaging clients in Canada. It might seem onerous to be doing business while on vacation, but Douglas Somerville is most certainly not on vacation. Don't let the skimpy swimsuit fool you. He is working every contact and every party, and getting about three hours of sleep each night. "I don' t ever need any more than that, " he announces triumphantly. He excuses himself once he ' s had his frozen strawberry daiquiri, disappearing behind the wall again. We meet the following evening, at the Calvin and Kelly Klein event-of-the-season. Of course, the party could unfold only in one setting: the Delano "orchard. " Under 80 skyscraping Washingtonian palms, you find a madcap green where full-length mirrors lean against tree trunks, indoor lamps swing from branches, a marble kitchen table with mismatched chairs stands over an area rug made of tiles. There are curtained cabanas where your entire party can sprawl, harem- style. And giant lawn chess. If Lewis Carroll were alive, this is where he 'd winter. Today it is spilling over with people draped in understated black chic. You can tell the hotel ' s handpicked staff of pretties because they are in white, head to toe. In fact, don't ever get caught wearing white at this place. Someone will ask you for towels. It is a celebrity wonderland tonight, the very-divine mingling with the very-impressed while Kelly Klein autographs copies of her new underwear book. She is in a sleeveless seafoam mini that perfectly matches the pool-chair-for-two where she spends the entire night. Beside her throne is a bottle of Evian, chilling in a silver ice bucket. Here comes Calvin, in a faded gray T-shirt and rumpled khakis. (Dressing up at the Delano would be gauche. It is a place that lives by a restrained aesthetic, a philosophy that only those who don't have it flaunt it. ) We ask Calvin what he thinks of the place. "I 'm going to give you one sentence, " he warns. "It is the best hotel in the world. " Really? What makes it . . . "One sentence. It is the best hotel in the world. " With that, he marches off. His wife, Kelly: "It is like Havana in the ' 40s. Very sexy and elegant. " David Geffen: "I think it ' s very stylish. But I 'm looking for some friends. Excuse me. " Young actor Stephen Dorff: "I love it. It ' s like I 'm in a different era. But some people are looking for me. Sorry. " Madonna: OK, so we don't talk to Madonna. But she is here, in a prim black-and-white flecked Chanel suit. She arrives at the height of the night, an entourage of muscle-men keeping the frenzied paparazzi at bay. (The camera-toters have been quite subdued, until she shows up. ) She strolls the length of the green to grant a lingering photo-op at Kelly' s side. Then she retires to dinner on the terrace of the hotel ' s Blue Door restaurant, which she, of course, co-owns. In the spirit of nothing-more-to-see-here, the party instantly dies. Douglas invites us up to his room for a pre-disco cocktail. A small selection of people he has just met are already up there, decoratively draped across post-modern furniture, sipping vodka and cranberry juice out of martini glasses. Room 915 is just like every other room in the Delano. Blinding white. The floors are clinic white. The bed is on a white platform, dressed in white linens. A cushy white window seat runs the length of one white wall. A white orchid rises from a white pot. The TV, the stereo, the fridge, all white. The Euro- bathroom . . . The whiteness makes the dozen pairs of brand-new shoes lined up beside the white writing table in Douglas ' room stand out like, well, like Baby Ruth bars floating in a pool . Douglas has packed a total of 20 pairs of shoes for a week- and-a-half stay. The pairs in the middle of the room are spillover from a stuffed closet. He showed up at the Delano with eight pieces of luggage. "I grew up very poor, on a farm. I didn' t have my first pair of new shoes until I was 13 . . . . " He retells this story to anybody who brings up the shoe thing. Douglas loves to entertain, whether he is at home in his Vancouver penthouse, or in a hotel . (By the way, he happens to have with him a 1991 Canadian interior design magazine that features his pad. ) One of his suitcases is strictly for the caviar dishes, the silver ice bucket, the martini glasses, the gourmet coffee maker, the table linens. The whole time he' s been at the Delano, he ' s been fighting with housekeeping, which keeps confusing his prized possessions for hotel stock. Each time they clean his room, they take something. He hasn' t seen his etched wine glasses in days. "Sometimes you just want something nicer than whatever the hotel can bring up, " says Douglas, who says he made his money on furniture stores. He says he closed them this year to devote more time to designing, and to open a new company, Simply Egg Whites. As in, bottled egg whites for the health-conscious. He keeps two bottles on ice in his room. By Day Two, you have become part of Douglas ' inner circle. He has invited you to spend time at his place in Vancouver. "I have a Filipino housekeeper who makes the most wonderful food, " he tells you. He has confided in hushed tones about the only woman he ever loved. "She is still a good friend, " he says. It seems natural to be discussing intimacies with a man you don't know. It is the way here, a place where artifice warps into truth and truth swells out of proportion. This is the kind of place where waiters who probably can't afford the $175 to $450 rooms frown on anyone who dares order tap water. A place where the gift-shop clerk doesn't bat an eye when a woman asks for a Cuban cigar. She simply takes your credit card and hands you a clipper to cut off the end. Aren' t Cuban cigars illegal, you ask? "Yes. Of course, " she responds dryly. As in, we have a humidor stuffed with Monte Cristos and Cohibas -- you think we' re, like, worried? The rules, indeed, are different here. Even the lobby furniture challenges you to drop conventional notions. Near the entrance is a metal bed draped in a faux fur, where free-thinkers sprawl while they wait for whatever. Resting against a far wall is an oversize sofa with a towering winged back that makes loungers look like shrunken Alices. A gigantic lamp shade hangs over the front desk. South Beach trumpets this place as a beacon of fresh chic that arrived, with perfect timing, to wave off the critics who would say the Beach is on the verge of losing its cool. Only problem is, the Delano won't lay claim to South Beach. It stands there on the edge of the Atlantic, in staunch disavowal of the Rollerbladers and the pastel pinks. Says Schrager: "The Delano has nothing whatsoever to do with South Beach. Not because it' s a rejection of what South Beach is -- the scale of the whole area makes it a special place on earth, the way Venice is, the way Soho is, the way Old Havana is. But the Delano is more about southern Florida than a certain social phenomenon. " In other words, Schrager doesn't want to succumb to the fickleness of a fad. You won' t find a single Rollerblader here. He reinvented the Delano as a self-contained resort that could sustain its own magic. "Fashion is very transitory, " he says. "Those things come and go. We did not conceive the Delano as part of South Beach. " Perhaps that is why the blue door at the front of the hotel does not open. "It ' s just for show, " shrugs a valet who obviously retains perspective. cutlines JEFFERY SALTER / Herald Staff READY TO SERVE: Doormen -- dressed all in white, of course -- stand watch in the Delano' s lobby. JEFFERY SALTER / Herald Staff MERE PAWNS: Guests play an oversize chess game under the tall palms of the hotel ' s ' orchard. ' Knight-Ridder Newspapers MARICE COHN BAND / Herald Staff credit for pic of tower, at top of page LIU XIN / Herald Staff TETE-A-TETE: Clint Archambaul of Fortune International and Darlyne Chauve, owner of the newly opened Bice Restaurant on Ocean Drive, do the haute Delano hotel in high style. LIU XIN / Herald Staff MADCAP LUXURY: The Delano "living room" offers pods of funky furniture, such as this candelabra- topped table with its turbaned-guy chairs. AL DIAZ / Herald Staff KEEPING COOL: Designer Douglas Somerville smiles though his shoes are soaking -- he stopped for a champagne break in the Delano pool. KEYWORDS: PROFILE TAG: 9503170956 3 of 59 , 4 Terms mh95 IS SOUTH BEACH LOSING ITS COOL? 10/15/1995 THE MIAMI HERALD Copyright (c) 1995, The Miami Herald DATE: Sunday, October 15, 1995 EDITION: FINAL SECTION: LIVING PAGE: 1J LENGTH: 252 lines ILLUSTRATION: color photo: Cameo club, Britto Central gallery, Lincoln Road, police talk to youths at 14th and Drexel near Washington Avenue (all-a) , Delano Hotel (n) ; photo: street scene parking on Ocean Drive (MIAMI BEACH SOUTH BEACH) , Clive Promhows checks ID at Chili Pepper club (a) SOURCE/CREDIT LINE: JORDAN LEVIN Special to The Herald IS SOUTH BEACH LOSING ITS COOL? Ah, South Beach. SoHo South. Miami ' s shining urban renaissance story. The place to be for the coolest nightlife, the hottest people. Take another look. Many of the artists, business people and community activists who brought the area back to life say that South Beach is dead, a victim of its own success. These days, they say, Ocean Drive resembles Bourbon Street more than a European boulevard -- packed with noisy swarms and overpriced restaurants. They complain that Washington Avenue ' s local boutiques are giving way to denim and Spandex outlets, that the upscale clubs are endangered by trashed-out bars frequented by a rowdy, ever-younger crowd. Even teen gangs have invaded. "The scene is dead, " says Louis Canales, the publicist and unofficial "mayor of South Beach" who brought international press to the area in its early days. "Success did kill South Beach. We had something so unique here, and we were so successful in getting the word out, that every charlatan, press hound and con artist on the globe descended. . . . There is absolutely no vision left, but there sure is a lot of money. " "There ' s no community here anymore, " says Damian Rojo, artist and South Beach pioneer who helped create the area' s early art and nightlife scenes. "I used to love this town and now I don't. " Yet others say South Beach is simply growing up, that the early bohemian character is maturing into a high-profile economic boom. People are pouring millions into the retail and condo markets, they point out. "Particularly among early South Beach people, there ' s been a lot of regret for the old days, " says Neisen Kasdin, a Miami Beach city commissioner. "But everyone in the world knows about South Beach now. Cities are dynamic bodies -- they change and evolve. To some extent you have to surrender to the changes . " Defenders like Kasdin point to the big-time companies coming in: Chris Blackwell ' s Island Trading, The Box, MTV Latino, Sony Discos, music producer Jellybean Benitez ' s soon-to- open production company. New York' s famed China Grill has opened a restaurant on lower Washington Avenue. Ian Schrager' s spectacular, world-class Delano Hotel is expected to bring back an international clientele somewhat absent in recent seasons. October' s Elle magazine says these kinds of businesses give South Beach hype some substance. And the Beach is still a celebrity vortex: for the Estefans, Stallone, Madonna (who recently hosted her birthday party at the Blue Door restaurant she co-owns at the Delano) ; for stars in the movies increasingly being filmed in South Florida. Just last week, MTV announced that The Real World has picked South Beach for its next location. Actor Michael Caine will soon open a restaurant on Lincoln Road, and Madonna gal-pal Ingrid Casares will open a nightclub on Washington near Espanola Way. "The question is, which way is up?" says Craig Robins, co- owner of the Dacra Cos . , which renovated such projects as Blackwell ' s The Netherland and Marlin hotels and Gianni Versace ' s store on Washington Avenue. "If up is a quaint charming place other people don' t know about . . . then we ' re not going up. But if up is much larger, more serious, institutional development, higher-quality people, world-class architecture and design, film, fashion, music and TV industries having a strong presence . . . then we're going up. " In a way, it is simply the relentless cycle of gentrification. It happened in Coconut Grove and in New York' s Soho and East Village. First came the artists, the entrepreneurs with few resources but lots of imagination, the cultural oddballs, all attracted by cheap rents and South Beach' s unique character. The press followed, bringing trendy New Yorkers, Europeans and the fashion industry. Then SoBe became a phenomenon and press became hype, bringing ever-larger crowds, big-time entrepreneurs and multiplying taxes and rents. "We got what we wanted, " says Glenn Albin, writer and former editor-in-chief of South Florida magazine. "Or maybe we got what we deserved. " In the beginning, "we made it because we were not part of the mallification of America, " says Brian Antoni, a novelist who regularly escorts national press and fashion mavens around South Beach. "We had our own flavor. But the people who run this city never got what it was that made this place successful. . . . Maybe there ' s more money in being middle America than there is in being trendy. . . . But in terms of what South Beach gives to Miami by being an international playground that will attract people who are serious players, you have to look at the bigger picture. " An important part of that picture is nightlife, an integral aspect of South Beach' s rebirth and still a central draw. In the early days, clubgoers were a mix of gays and straights, club kids and models, New York and European tourists, the devotedly trendy and the 40 mildly curious; these days, goes the complaint, they are young, rowdy and increasingly intolerant. "Washington has gotten to the point where there are just too many people, it ' s a circus, " says Pamela Douglas, a record promoter who moved off the Beach three years ago. "None of the people in the clubs are ones I want to hang out with. A lot of them are sleazy and rude. " The strip late on a weekend night nowadays is often a gauntlet of honking bumper-to-bumper traffic and aggressive crowds. "You can' t walk on Washington on a weekend if you 're a girl, and you really have to think about it if you 're a guy, " says Jorge Nunez, owner of the club Lua. Says Tom Austin, New Times ' nightlife columnist: "All this money came in and simultaneously we got the squalor. It ' s become totally Balkanized. Now the people with money have nowhere to go, or they' re only going to go to very insulated places. " Austin recalls taking out editors from W, the high-society fashion bible, only to have them see three arrests and one clubgoer "lying in a pool of her own vomit. " Last winter, he says, some guys in a Jeep chased him into an alley. Antoni, the novelist, says the last time he took the editor of a national magazine out on the town, a carload of boys roared by screaming "faggot! " -- "and he went home and wrote about it. Is that the kind of press we want?" The problems are not just limited to unpleasantness. "We definitely have a problem with gangs, " says Sgt. Andy Soto, head of the Miami Beach Police Department ' s Juvenile Unit. He says the police chief has requested a new gang unit. A doorman at Twist, a gay club on Washington across from the police station, says he has seen an increase in street violence and harassment. "There ' s gangs of young boys standing outside here screaming ' faggot ' and threatening and attacking people, " he says, recalling a shooting in front of a club on the next block, and a man being stabbed through the hand while sitting in his car at Twist. "We 've become baby-sitters, " snorts one off-duty officer hired for security at a Washington Avenue club one Saturday night. "The gangs come here because it ' s neutral territory. This is the place to be, and they want to be here, too. " Some pioneer shop owners blame the changing crowd, along with soaring rents, for their business worries. Myra Gonzalez recently closed her Washington Avenue boutique Findings, where she sold clothes by South Florida designers. "There ' s no traffic on Washington now, " she laments. "Of the group I started with between 1989 and 1992 , everyone is closed. " She ticks off names: Flashbacks, Tommy at the Beach, Blue Moon, Baci di Roma, Last Tango in Paradise, La Troya, Madeline, Gaucho. "Everybody got greedy, and (rents) went up. . . but the quality of the people went down, " she says . On the other side of Washington, Debbie Ohanian has moved her ultra-trendy clothing store, Meet Me in Miami, to smaller quarters and is carrying cheaper clothes . The move was prompted partly by a fire at the club next door, she says, but also because the people coming in could no longer afford her merchandise. "Economically, the segment of the population that had a lot of money to spend is gone, " she says, adding that she is considering closing her restaurant, Starfish, on West Avenue. "This used to be a really beautiful, comfortable environment. Now it ' s become not so cool and not so safe. " "This summer there was a significant increase in vacancies, " admits Neil Fritz, economic revitalization specialist for the Washington Avenue Association. He explains that rents have risen, in part, because of tax increases -- Ab both of which can be inflated by hype. But he says rents have gone down to $25-$30 a foot from last year' s high of $40-$45 as landlords have lost tenants. The street will ultimately adjust, he says: "It ' s really tough in a free market to deal with these kinds of things, but I think we're headed for something different and just as exciting. " And "different" is exactly what many residents fear. "I think city government sees this city as a Disney-like theme park surrounded by tax-generating luxury high-rises, " says Mark Needle, who helped create the South Pointe Citizens Coalition to fight Thomas Kramer' s Portofino high-rise condo project, going up south of Fifth Street. Needle says city accommodations to development and mass- market tourism are destroying the qualities that made the Beach popular in the first place. "South Beach is the goose that laid the golden eggs, and they're in danger of killing the goose, " he says. But Miami Beach Mayor Seymour Gelber says: "Some of us would have loved for that end of the beach to stay virgin forever, but eventually some development would have occurred. (Portofino) has a chance to be positive for two reasons : We did a fairly decent job in a bad situation of maintaining control, and their project is to build a very upscale place. " Century Hotel owner David Colby says his customers, including celebrities like designer Jean-Paul Gaultier and actors Sean Penn and Johnny Depp, were attracted by the unusual character of the tiny Art Deco gem, on lower Ocean Drive. But he says this is threatened by developments like Portofino, while multiplying taxes make the hotel worth more as a high-rise site than a business. "You can 't stay the new hot place forever, " Colby says. "The question is, can you maintain yourself? . . . It' s not that the city is against us, but they' re always talking about the rights of developers. Well, there ' s also a right to sunshine and space and being able to pay your rent. " Counters Commissioner David Pearlson: "I think the character and fabric of the neighborhood will remain intact. Whether it ' s a local bistro or national chain coming in won't impact that much, other than to give the neighborhood more depth and stability. . . . If the Gap comes in, I think that ' s a good thing for this community. " Perhaps the sorest sticking point in the neighborhood craw is Lincoln Road. The last part of South Beach to come back, it has become a prosperous, artistically oriented alternative to the rest of the area in the last two years. Now many fear that the pedestrian- area face-lift and the planned movie/shopping complex will draw huge crowds, drive up rents and alter the street ' s character from funky hangout to commercial mall. Lincoln Road, they say, was doing just fine, so why does the city have to spend $18 million to fix it? Andrew Delaplaine, outspoken publisher of Wire, the Beach' s weekly newspaper, has been a vociferous critic of both ideas, saying they will create a homogeneous complex, and has structured his mayoral candidacy on his opposition. "The people doing this see that there is no Gap on Lincoln Road, and that ' s a horror to them, " he says. "You can go to any mall in America and go to a Gap. But you can' t go anywhere else in America and get what you have on Lincoln Road. " While the face-lift will include a stepping-stone pond and a misting palm grove, the cinema/shopping complex is slated to have a 10-screen theater and 109, 000 square feet of retail, one- tenth of Lincoln' s total footage. It would cover the two parking lots between Lenox and Michigan avenues and have a three- or four-story parking garage. The project ' s fate is in jeopardy because developer Jean-Jacques Murray doesn' t have firm commitments from tenants. In addition, he has suddenly proposed making the anchor tenant a Winn-Dixie Marketplace, instead of the upscale department store he originally proposed. The City Commission will consider the project Oct. 25. Chris Burdick, president of the Lincoln Road Partnership, which helps manage development on the road and acts as a liaison among landlords, tenants and the city, says, "I don't know how anyone gets that this is being turned into a mall when what ' s being done is a restoration. " Much of the restoration is for infrastructure needs like water and gas mains and sidewalks. The community has been included in the planning, she says, citing the decision to reduce the movie complex' s 25 screens to 10 after local protests as an example. Although Burdick thinks some tenants will be forced out, she predicts that rents will adjust to "a realistic rate" with only a few chain stores. Others are not so sure. "It' s all going too fast and slipping out from under our feet, " says Hannah Lasky, whose salon, Hannah and Her Scissors, a pioneering SoBe business featured in national magazines, moved from Ocean Drive to Lincoln Road in 1993 . She says her landlord hasn 't told her whether she ' ll be able to renew her lease, and she fears, as do many Lincoln Road business owners, that landlords are holding out for tenants that will pay higher rents. "The people doing this don't care about this as a community place, " she says. "All the businesses like mine are going to be booted out. " Whether South Beach descends into an overcommercialized disaster or ascends to a grown-up glittering success, many of the people who brought it back to life see the inevitable end of something they loved. "There was so much positive energy here once that it was magical, " says Lua' s Nunez . "You can never duplicate that again. Not even if you go somewhere else. It ' s over. " Herald File STREET SCENE: Parking on streets like Ocean Drive is a problem as people flock to South Beach' s clubs and shops. CHUCK FADELY / Herald Staff CLUB CROWDS: Clive Promhows checks IDs at Chili Pepper, one of South Beach' s many clubs. SOBE: The club scene is busy -- The Cameo, above, has foam parties on Saturday nights; galleries, such as Britto Central, above left, dot Lincoln Road; at left, police talk to youths at 14th and Drexel after a fight near Washington Avenue. CHUCK FADELY / Herald Staff CHUCK FADELY / Herald Staff CHUCK FADELY / Herald Staff CHUCK FADELY / Herald Staff Herald File Photo SCENES FROM SOUTH BEACH: Ian Schrager' s elegant Delano Hotel, above, is expected to bring back an international clientele somewhat absent in recent seasons. Meanwhile, a younger crowd has been drawn to the Washington Avenue club scene. KEYWORDS: STATISTIC PROFILE MIAMI BEACH SOUTH CHANGE TAG: 9503070064 13 of 59, 2 Terms mh95 HOTEL CHIC 06/25/1995 THE MIAMI HERALD Copyright (c) 1995, The Miami Herald DATE: Sunday, June 25, 1995 EDITION: FINAL SECTION: BUSINESS PAGE: 1K LENGTH: 121 lines ILLUSTRATION: color photo: Ian Schrager with the Delano hotel in the background (a) , inside the Delano room (a) ; photo: air freshner in Delano hotel room (a) , bathroom at the Delano hotel (a) SOURCE/CREDIT LINE: ANNE MONCREIFF ARRARTE Herald Business Writer HOTEL CHIC FAMOUS EVEN BEFORE IT OPENS THE DELANO BRINGS IAN SCHRAGER'S STUDIO 54 MYSTIQUE TO SOUTH BEACH Miami Beach' s renovated Delano Hotel may be the most famous hotel that hasn' t had a guest. The New York Times wrote about the project last year. This month, Vanity Fair devoted a six-page color spread to the hotel. Next week, the place finally opens for business. The advance publicity buzz should come as no surprise. The Delano is owned by Ian Schrager, one of New York' s leading arbiters of hip. Since he founded Studio 54, Manhattan' s trendy 1970s disco where potential patrons lingered outside hoping to be invited in, Schrager has been setting style for the stylish. Today, Schrager owns three Manhattan boutique hotels that vary in price and cater to Schrager ' s core clientele: the cool, the rich and the famous. Now he' s bringing his cache to South Beach with the Delano, a small beachfront estate-style resort that Schrager calls "a theme park that ' s not cartoon characters, but sophistication and sophisticated people. " The idea, as Schrager explains it, is to re-create the past grandeur of the Delano -- a 238-room hotel he visited as a child -- but do it with a ' 90s feel . Rooms are decorated in white, furniture is eclectic, children are welcome. "People never lose the desire to be part of what ' s going on -- that ' s what we sell, " said Schrager, 48, who recently married and had his first child. "I want this hotel to be glamorous, but easy. " To that end, Schrager has cast his employees a la A Chorus Line, personally selecting attractive, eager kids who "want to be involved in what' s going on. " He has staged his hotel design like "a three-act play, " dark lobby, breezy outdoor porch and glistening beach and pool. And, he has brought some of New York' s most chic names south. The hotel redesign is by celebrated French designer Philippe Starck. David Barton, who owns Manhattan' s trendiest workout spot, is opening the Delano' s David Barton Gym. Brian McNally and partner Madonna, who own 44, a New York restaurant in Schrager' s Royalton Hotel, will run the hotel ' s Blue Door restaurant. And Rita Norona Schrager, Schrager' s Cuban-born, Miami-bred wife, has designed the Delano' s spa, Agua, with friends Kelly Klein and Leila Fazel. Average room rates will be $150 a night, a pricey standard for most Miami Beach hotels . But Schrager prides himself on offering a range of rates. Delano accommodations start at $100 and rise to $450 a night for one of eight Hollywood-style bungalows. "I think of this like I do organizing a party. You want an interesting mix of people, not guests that are too homogeneous, " Schrager said. "It' s a vertical market that makes it fun. I learned in the nightclub business that it ' s irrelevant what people make and where they live, it' s something else they have in common that ' s interesting. It ' s ball gowns dancing next to blue jeans. " If Schrager can re-create his ball gown/blue jean mystique in a white linen market, analysts say, the Delano will bring Miami a new wave of upscale New Yorkers, appeal to the luxury international market and create a hip oasis for locals. "Ian Schrager has a very distinctive position in the hotel industry and he is the kind of guy who can go after the high- end, artistic market, " said Chase Burritt, managing director of hospitality services group for Ernst & i Young Kenneth Leventhal in Coral Gables. "He appeals to the crowd that are trend-setters. And there' s a lot of interest among that group in a high-end, full-service destination hotel here. " Still, to keep his hotel at his goal of 67 percent occupancy, Schrager also will have to draw some meeting and small convention business. "We ' re not talking Fontainebleau-style conventions here, " Burritt said. "We' re talking Emilio Estefan getting his people together for a corporate meeting. " For that kind of business, neighboring South Beach doesn't offer much. Though the hotels are notoriously hip, they also are very small and can' t cater to travelers looking for a touch of luxury. None offers full-service amenities, said Scott Berman, director of hospitality for the Miami office of Coopers & Lybrand. Schrager agrees. "I make a distinction between myself and Ocean Drive because I worry about its trendiness, " Schrager said. "Sure, it is a magnet like Versace, Sylvester Stallone and Madonna are magnets, but you don't invest this kind of money in a fad. " Schrager paid $4 million for the Delano three years ago and has invested $22 million in the renovation. The Delano is Schrager' s first property outside New York. He bought the Mondrian Hotel in Los Angeles last year. It is slated to open next February. "I am interested in international gateway cities, " Schrager said. "I think there is a real circuit between New York, Miami and Los Angeles. " Schrager also is interested in expansion. He is convinced the consumer trend toward shorter vacations will continue, and he is eager to create a small hotel chain of some 15 properties that can tap the highest end of that market. "I want to get as big as I can and still be an entertainment business. " Schrager said he would like to work around a spoke-and- wheel theory, clustering hotels in adjacent markets under regional management. He is looking at San Francisco and Seattle to compliment his Los Angeles hotel; Washington, D.C. , to tie into New York; as well as Houston, Atlanta and New Orleans. In Europe, London, Paris, Milan, Belgium and Dusseldorf, all fashion industry cities, are under consideration. As for South Florida, if the Delano takes off, Schrager plans to expand to Palm Beach, the Keys and maybe Naples, he said. "The Delano will be a very good test to see if Schrager can bring his panache to South Beach and transfer his New York business here, " said Burritt. "If he can, Palm Beach and Key West would be great options. " Meanwhile, Schrager said, he will continue doing what he does best. "I sell magic, " Schrager explains. "Not sleep. " cutlines Photos by MARICE COHN BAND / Herald Staff NEW AND OLD: A brand new bathroom features an old-fashioned sink. Don't worry, it ' s hooked up to a drain. SWEET TOUCH: Rooms feature sconces that hold fresh apples for guests to snack on. Photos by MARICE COHN BAND / Herald Staff VISION IN WHITE: No splashy tropical colors will be found in rooms at the Delano. The theme is white and light. READY TO MAKE A SPLASH: Ian Schrager hopes to re-create the high-style party atmosphere of Studio 54 when the Delano Hotel re-opens next week. KEYWORDS: BIOGRAPHY SCHRAGER TAG: 9502100683