Casa Faena

Walking into luxury hotel Casa Faena was much like entering the stately residence of an Argentinean abuelita (grandmother)… One whose lengthy arm of hospitality was extended even before I’d attempted to drag my suitcase up the stairs.

I arrived by Uber chariot, stepped out onto the sidewalk and positioned myself out of eyeshot (or so I thought), as I performed the unglamorous duty of rating my driver before making my grand entrance. Busted – a dashing, suspender-clad bell-boy materialised. Despite the slight drizzle, he greeted me warmly and offered to give me a hand with my luggage. I accepted (gladly) and we dashed for cover as the rain intensified. 

I was admiring – and, admittedly, stroking – a pair of soft, mustard-hued, be-tasselled velvet curtains when I was offered a glass of Perrier Jouët in an sparkling coupé – just what I needed after realising that my hopes and dreams of a deep Miami tan had been dashed by Mother Nature. Yes, abuelita always knows the tonic to cure your ills. Check-in was a breeze, and friendly front-desk clerk Oliver promptly whisked me up to my King Suite – a very welcome surprise upgrade. This meant sprawling digs on the top floor with a soaking tub and privileged access to the hotel’s sweeping ocean-view terrace… Are you there, Sun? It’s me, Céline.

Oliver left me and my glass of champagne to our own devices after a brief and very informative rundown of the property and its surroundings. I took this opportunity and revelled in my solitude: poking my head out onto the terrace to gauge whether or not I could get away with leaving the door cracked open for a bit of fresh air. The thin veil of a curtain blowing softly in the breeze and Instagrams successfully posted, it was time to check out that first-floor restaurant and its pretty wallpaper.

Over a nice kale salad and a happy-hour cocktail (cut-price mojitos and more from 4pm to 7pm daily, folks), I admired the wallpaper and elegant decor choices from my blush-hued settee perch, while attempting to get work done (a fruitless task when one is surrounded by artwork curated by the Faena crew: Manuel Velaztoy’s voluminous, pink, hand-cut-fabric installation cascading from the ceiling; or Juan Gatti’s otherworldly anatomy-inspired prints…) My mind drifted from the task at hand to the history of the property, a rabbit-hole down which I eagerly dove in the name of immersive travel. The building's doors first opened in 1918 as the El Paraíso Apartments; ultimately the Casa became a genteel destination for the well-to-do of the Twenties and Thirties before a spectacular third act – reopening with a jaw-dropping new look as part of the esteemed Faena complex, masterminded by hotelier Alan Faena. Vintage accents, reminiscent of the hotel’s first incarnation, are peppered throughout in true Mediterranean Revival fashion. There are modern touches around every corner too, and if ever there were a hotel lobby worthy of my admiration, it’s the extravagant space here – especially in the evenings when they light candles. Nothing like a bit of mood lighting to bring out the best in a crushed-velvet couch.

Mornings are particularly magical at Casa Faena, especially for those who enjoy a hearty breakfast with a side of natural light and an unadulterated view of palm trees and, what’s this? Yet another terrace to sunbathe on. Now, about the beach… Tassel-tipped, red-and-white-striped umbrellas mark out the intimate area reserved for guests; in case you were wondering, the sun did come out and boy, did it have me humming Don’t Cry for Me, Argentina to myself as I reclined on a shoreside chaise-longue. 

But alas, one cannot remain exposed to the elements for too long (‘one’ being me and my translucent skin), so I rounded up my Miami squad and checked a few things off the South Beach to-do list. Mid Beach’s location proved central to many of Miami’s top restaurants and happenings, so we made sure to hit El Tucán for dinner and drinks – then, a few more drinks and a show. Stephen Starr’s the Continental restaurant is a must-try. I never thought lettuce wraps could bring a tear to my eye, but I’ve been known to be wrong about a few things. 

As you can imagine, tacos are plentiful ‘round these parts’, so Taquiza was my next stop for the best blue-corn chips of my life. Bodega Taqueria y Tequila ranks high too, but it’s best saved for after dark – pull up a chair in their secret bar; it’s hidden behind the blue outhouse door to the right of the entrance. There’s so much more to experience, but that itinerary gives a taste of Miami in a taco shell. As does Casa Faena, the arch-doorway-ed haçienda of your wildest artsy dreams, where – if you can bear to drag yourself off property – plentiful food and fun is just a ‘cha cha cha’ away.