What to do in Miami, Florida: The US city influenced by many cultures has more on offer than just South Beach

Storied cities dot the US.

LA is all bright lights and stylish falls from grace, Detroit grit and oil-smeared glory and New York centuries-old ambition.

As for Florida’s most famous city, Miami sits somewhere between virtue and vice, dive bars and wellness havens, glitz and rowdy glamour.

Based on Instagram geotags alone, South Beach is the biggest contributor to this well-worn image. Here, gleaming sand hems palm-tree-lined Collins Avenue and everything appears reflective — from the crystal sea to the oiled abs to the metallic bikinis. But not the cars — no, they’re all giant and matte black.

Beyond the obvious, the gleaming and the glossy, reinvention (that acknowledges the past) informs the Miami story. When The Delano, one of the city’s postwar hospitality icons, reopened this May, it swapped the infamous nightclub for a 650sqm “wellness facility” while retaining its old-world appeal (and original Salvador Dali Leda Chair). Nearby, the Design Hotels’ Shelborne by Proper, which opened in 1941, may be revelling in a $US100 million ($140m) refurbishment — all shiny Perlino marble and travertine — though launching headfirst from the 1950s diving board remains a proper dip into the past.

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Air-conditioning is, equally, a Miami mainstay across restaurant and retail and remains on permanent blast — an initial respite from the city’s mugginess until you come to realise there’s no way to dress appropriately for both temps, stuck between a rock and a cold place. The humidity is at its peak in the summertime, naturally, but lingers for most of the year. Best to layer. And apparently this goes for all of God’s creatures. As ROAM checks into what was a Miami “must”, the W Hotel — which closed this August but is set to return in 2027 under Ritz-Carlton branding — a woman walks by in a tiny bikini and matching shrug, her miniature dog sporting the same, albeit tailored to canine proportions.

In terms of a decent place to hole up, the reality is you’re looking around the beaches and the likes of Coconut Grove — areas that offer more when it comes to heightened accommodation, though still well placed to explore westerly (driving is a way of life in the city, so buckle in and embrace it).

Again, this year’s big return was the Delano, though The Esme is a designer boutique property that brings some colour and fun and a greater sense of intimacy. Life House in Little Havana is an accessible option in the heart of things and boasts a rooftop terrace with views across the city. Elsewhere, the Design District’ s The Moore juggles life as a private club and hotel with residential style suites of space and light.

In Little Havana, to the west of downtown, successive waves of Cuban immigration — from political exiles to turn-of-the-millennium aspirants — have turned a modest neighbourhood into the heart of the city’s Latin American community. Older men, all boater hats and buttoned shirts, play dominoes in Maximo Gomez Park and lean into ventanitas to order syrupy espresso. Guitar and cigar smoke fall out of bars, salsa plays in the background. Zip past most of the crowded tourist magnets on Calle Ocho, until you find the Ball and Chain, a bar from the 1930s that looks like it hasn’t moved on very much at all. Lively dancing and strong mojitos await.

As for the city’s more recent claims as a global art and design destination, it’s a play that’s ridden the years since Art Basel first landed in 2002, pulling a cluster of other events into the vortex of what’s now known as Miami Art Week (held every December). In 2024, Art Basel Miami Beach drew more than 75,000 visitors — and pulled an estimated $US547 million into the city. It represented a 10 per cent increase on the year before, and signalled to the city more broadly the financial case for art. It has a gravity, now, that extends well beyond the week.

The well-trodden Wynwood Walls — an ever-changing “open-air museum” of street murals — are probably Miami’s most well-known art destination, though things become more interesting when you head west to laidback Allapattah.

Here, The Rubell Museum, a private collection turned public gallery, is a repurposed warehouse bursting with underrated contemporary art. It houses a smattering of lesser-known pieces by Haring, Basquiat and Cindy Sherman, and its artists in residence produce some of its most worthwhile works — Havana-born Miami-based Alejandro Pineiro Bello makes surrealist canvases that seem to fully digest and bring forth the bounty and colour of his multifaceted, ever-changing city. Club Tipico Dominicano has been a mainstay for locals since the mid 80s and while its clientele has changed in recent years, its hearty fare — seafood platters piled with garlic shrimp; clay pots of stewed oxtail; mashed plantains with eggs and salami — continues to serve its neighbourhood.

Little River, however, might be the bohemian destination du jour, a once-industrial neighbourhood which has become a loose constellation of micro galleries, restaurants and kitschy stores. Sunny’s is the restaurant recommended six separate times to this writer in the course of a week; when I finally got a booking, I was pleasantly underwhelmed. Its modern Italian offering isn’t original, necessarily, but who needs original when you have a pile of perfectly crisp potatoes fried in chicken “schmaltz” — a kind of rendered fat — in front of you? New openings like Lion’s Den, a poky vinyl lounge, and Magie, a natural wine-centric hideout, are courting younger demographics.

But the area’s appeal comes partly from the fact that it doesn’t feel manufactured: its Haitian and broader Caribbean influences have managed to make it a destination with heart, rather than just an art-forward transaction hub. And, as at Tipico, sometimes, the mainstays are the best. The influx of well-heeled art people and aesthetes is starting to make its influence felt in these neighbourhoods, but it doesn’t mean the old favourites are off the menu just yet.

For a real look at Miami — before it changes shape yet again, head westward.