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Talk about an upgrade—or more accurately, a re-invention. For
years, the beach party of White Party weekend has been an ancillary
event: a Saturday afternoon sandbox before Sunday night’s
Vizcaya glam-slam. A couple years
ago, however,
CareResource got wise and switched
Vizcaya to the more appropriate
Saturday night—and the beach party to Sunday afternoon—and this
year,
CareResource got even wiser and
hired
Johnny Chisholm to reconceptualize
the entire beach event and make it closer to what people remember
when they think of beach parties on Miami Beach. This year, Muscle
Beach got steroided—and it’s never looked better.
The theme was The Land Before Time, executed by (D’OH!)
RKM Futureboys (What would beach
parties be without them? Don’t even think about it!)—and even
from half a mile down the beach, you could see what appeared to a be
a Jurassic rain forest mirage in shades of phosphorescent green,
chartreuse, and acid orange. The Muscle Beach banner was the size
of those which fly behind airplanes circling over the beach. There
were day-glo tribal masks and palm fronds of all variety, and white
tenting and a VIP lounge with couches—and at three pm,
Roland Belmares was in the house,
proclaiming, “Music is My Life.” No question about it.
Hilton and Mel were there, with son
Myron and the inimitable Mizz Cori, and
HRH Wendy Hunt, and
Tracy Young with Her Hottie Posse,
and Jake and Jesse, and
Joe G. (the just-announced deejay
for
WinterParty—the next big Miami
beach party—just three short months away—buy your tix now!)
And there were pink sun hats and white shades and all sorts of
provocative
Andrew Christian undies—or “Sexy
Armor,” as one song lyric has it. Oh, and b’ball shorts—about which
someone else was saying, “Basketball shorts—what a great invention.
They slide off so easily.”
But even more than b’ball shorts, Muscle Beach this year was all
about the smile. The Land Before Time was an island of happy
people, surfing a perfect wave of rhythm and beat. Uncontrollably
happy boyz werked it out with joyful abandon. There was a sense of
the carefree (albeit without risk or danger) which exemplified the
theme of a place beyond time—as if the party were an oasis of Lost
Boyz from Neverland who’d washed ashore for the afternoon.
And as if to validate the Beach’s reputation for health and
well-being, there was an overwhelming abundance of beautiful skin:
such smooth, clean skin in a myriad hues, all catching the day’s
rays as the sun slid behind the Miami skyline.
Then came the gloaming—and the lights flickered through the rain
forest, dancing over the dazed faces of boyz entwined. Who can
resist the romance of a Miami night as the moon rises above the
ocean? Who wouldn’t hear the call of the Beach? Who wouldn’t want
to linger? When, indeed, has the plea “Please, Don’t Stop the
Music” ever been more heartfelt?
If this year’s incarnation is any indication, then there’s no
question: Muscle Beach has come of age—and it’s to the credit of
CareResource and the creative
acumen of people such as
Johnny Chisholm. This is one party
that’s gotten better with time—and right now it’s looking mighty
fine.
Best always,
Mark and Robert
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