Even tho my accomadations were vintage deco, the neon was brilliant and the address was the A-1 coastal drive, I have to admit the neighborhood was a little rough...and even I was scared of a piece of furniture in my room. And I'm not the only one that was a little scared. Apparantly my camera was the talk of the night and caused quite a commotion among the maids and the desk clerk at the Seven Seas, as I'm sure they could not understand why anyone would want pictures of their past it's prime motel. Driving a black ex-cop car does not help when trying to convince non-english speaking maids and a black bouncer type desk clerk that you aren't running an undercover sting operation. (And I'm quite sure if I WAS running a sting operation, there was plenty of questionable activity going on within the locked gates of the Seven Seas that was worthy of stinging). As far as the car goes, I may need to rethink this mode of transportation.
Miami, Florida said "No."
South Beach to be exact, said "oh, no you don't."
"Trump towers? NO, Donald...get out!
We want to keep our architectural identity...even if the buildings are cheaply built and in disrepair." The Miami Deco Museum chronicles the plight of the people of South Beach and their fight to keep the fabulous deco from succumbing to the boring condo.
And thank God, they won.
The Welcome Center offers walking tours of the 3 main avenues that are lined with the cotton candy deco buildings. It is Deco Nirvana. I don't know why I love those curves so much, but it was an afternoon of absolute architectural eye candy.
Behold:
Namesakes. You know who you are.
If I lived in Miami, I'd want this address.
I thought about it.
Imported directly from Pennsylvania.
She called me "hon." Sweet end to a sweet tour.
Directions to here:
"He looks around, around, He sees angels in the architecture, Spinning in infinity, He says Amen! and Hallelujah!"
(From You can call me Al, written by Paul Simon)
No comments:
Post a Comment