Want to go clubbing in South Beach circa 1993? Take a look at the scene back then

It was a different place in a different time.

South Beach, 1993.

Every week, the Miami Herald published listings on the parties planned inside the nightclubs.

Know what went on inside? You had to be there.

Let’s take you back through the Herald archives. Now is the time to plan your club-hopping in the South Beach of 1993:

Club listings

First published Dec. 31, 1993

Friday: Promise or threat, there’s tons o’ club action tonight. Cover charges are higher everywhere, so plan accordingly. Call in your RSVP to anything with a dinner package. The hot ticket with New Yorkers and hip South Beachites is cult satirist Lypsinka’s performance at the Colony Theater on Lincoln Road; a $75 ticket (which benefits the AIDS charity DIFFA) includes buffet and a cocktail; get there 8ish. Next stop for this crowd is the Century for the Puttana of the Century party, with cult deity Joey Arias hosting ($35); dress bordello. Barrio’s doing The Lash Bash, a $35 four-course meal with champagne toast. Expect lots of fun people in drag. Slightly north of South Beach, the Fontainebleau is hosting K.C. and the Sunshine Band ($135, includes dinner). Shabeen at the Marlin is hosting Cuba Si, a Latin extravaganza with three bands and major buffet ($65). Le Zebre at the Park Central is doing A Black & White Affair for $90 per, with dinner & dancing. The Loft is featuring three bands (reggae, Latin jazz and funk) for their Carnivale party ($30). Velvet’s First Annual Ball should be insane enough for you. At Les Bains, Michael Capponi, along with Charlie Schreiner and Pascal Fratellini, present La Cage Aux Folles with lots of showgirls and feathers, we assume ($25). Bang’s doing two seatings, at 8 and 10 p.m., at $90 per. The Mavericks are at the Stephen Talkhouse ($40 including food). The European royalty-studded party at La Voile Rouge is private and sold out anyhow, so don’t even think. Bash is doing live entertainment and party favors ($25). At Van Dome, the party will be going strong, you can be assured, with plenty of well- dressed couples. Paragon will be the mecca for boys, with continuous live entertainment through the wee hours ($25 cover includes breakfast). More wildness at gay dance clubs Warsaw and the Kremlin, and of course, at Twist.

Saturday: If you can get out of bed, try something subdued, like dinner out or Rose’s or The Bar. Or maybe a brief appearance at an after-hours party.

Sunday: Jody McDonald’s tea dance at the Surfcomber will resume; this week’s theme: New Queer’s Day. New pick for the night: Levity at Rebar, with DJ Peter Moreno and a young, reckless crowd. At Velvet: DJ Sister Leventhal works that vinyl for Sunday Night Fever disco night. The Church at the Loft (progressive night) is ultra strong with master DJ Carlos Menendez. Bang is positively reeling with Nicola’s Sunday party, live music and wild locals.

Monday: Barrio does drag night with a lip-synch show at midnight that just gets the wildest crowd; leave Dad at home. Jimmy Franzo hosts Family Night at Velvet. Fat Black Pussycat, John Hood’s clubhouse, is dark, clubby, totally saturated, at the alley entrance to Mickey’s. Giorgio and Andrew do Spicy Monday at Chili Pepper. At the Spot, Nicola Katharina and Vladimir host Paradiso.

Tuesday: Aces ‘n’ Eights at the Dark Room (Sixth & Washington) for that biker in you. Gian Luca hosts Black Rose Night at Rose’s on Washington Avenue. J.P., Savoia and Pink’s Return of Studio 54 at Mickey’s. Bash’s weekly Phantasy party with trance dancing is much fun. Les Bains is out of control; go late. Kitty Meow hosts at Paragon, for the boys.

Wednesday: Chili Pepper does Red Hot Jam with open mike. Warsaw’s Amateur Strip Contest, if you dare.

Thursday: Make your reservation for Natalie Thomas’ The Dinner Party at World Resources (719 Lincoln Rd., 672-0176). The Loft presents Be Provoked, a dance night presented by Juan Hernandez, Freddy Melero and Michaelangelo. Everyone loves Twist; 2-4-1 after 11 p.m. is just one of the reasons. So packed it’s amazing is Backdoor at Rebar, hosted by A3 Productions, where DJ Peter Moreno rules the groove. Pick of the night: Bash’s “Pelos Locos” (Crazy Hair Party). As host Gerry Kelly tells us, “wash” the transformation.

‘Queen of the Night’ Tara Solomon

First published June 11, 1993

While everyone is still waiting for the season to officially end, for the summer doldrums to set in, Beach locals are up to their old tricks. (Read: We’re still hopelessly fatigued -- at least physically, with recovery not expected any time soon.)

To wit, who wasn’t at Jody McDonald’s tea dance on Sunday? Held in the vacant lot across from the Marlin Hotel on 12th and Collins, this weekly madcap dance party took on new credibility last week when Miami Beach Mayor Sy Gelber (club name: Super Fly Sy) showed up with his charming wife, Edith Gelber, who does not at present have a club name. They watched politely from a distance (identify Mayor Gelber: He’s the one in the summer suit and plaid bow tie), while a half-dozen photographers and videographers documented 1,500 dancing to the Village People’s Macho Man, oblivious to the coif-destroying heat. Celeb flutist Nestor Torres chatted with Miami Beach’s First Couple from the sidelines, inquiring as to what the insanity was all about. Channel 7’s Jessica Aguirre showed up, as did omnipresent Beach personalities Julian Bain and Kitty Meow, who will appear as the “South Beach Brats” on Laurie Hibbard’s The Buzz, debuting next Thursday at 10 p.m. (There goes the neighborhood, right?) Julian and Kitty, in true promoter fashion, handed out fliers for their Monday night at Les Bains. Fashion guru Teddi Gunter, owner of the Non-Stop Prop Shop, showed off her new shell- studded cork-sole platforms from Les Pomps. Ugo Di Roma’s Saul Carballo, looking quite fit these days, slinked around shirtless in Versace jeans. Even guests at the Marlin were straining to see performer Kevin Aviance, seven feet tall from wig to stiletto, lip-syncing Donna Summer’s Love to Love You, Baby atop a humongous Lite beer truck. The drag beauty contingent was represented, including two giant linebacker-size guy-girls in black sequins and tea dance regular Shelly Novak (as in Shelly Winters crossed with Kim Novak, a.k.a. Tony Page), in short blond wig and silver glitter pants suit, paying homage to “chubby ‘50s screen idols” and tossing Twinkies to the crowd. We don’t expect you to understand.

Guess? who’s in town? Actress Drew Barrymore, shooting a new Guess? ad at the Raleigh Hotel. Don’t show up with your Kodak at the Raleigh, though; she’s staying at the Century on Ocean Drive. Speaking of the Century Hotel, we hope you caught the performance last Monday (apres Memorial Day) by the irreverent, irrepressible Duelling Bankheads from New York (a.k.a. performance artists David Ilku and Clark Render). Doing throaty, reckless renditions (in drag) of Tallulah Bankhead in unlikely scenarios (such as singing Nancy Sinatra’s Boots, Bruce Springsteen’s Born to Run, or doing a scene from The Miracle Worker), the Duelling Bankheads proved to be the best bad entertainment we’ve seen in some time.

A report just in: Boy George was sighted by very good sources last Tuesday at an hour way past our bedtime at Re Boy Bar, Ernie Levy’s gay night at Rebar. Boy was sitting at the bar, makeupless, on the portly side, wearing a black suit and short, unremarkable hair. Word has it he’s off to Key West for the weekend.

The newest one-nighter at the Beach’s most charmed space, the back room of Mario’s, is El Pussygato, a Saturday night late party hosted by Robert Infinity (don’t you love it?) and Gidget and Bridget, South Beach’s Patty and Cathy Lane. Gidget and Bridget, of course, are members of the Kibble Family, scheduled to compete on Family Feud at Aqua Cafe’s Comedy Time Bomb. We love the Kibbles, from their biting Southern witticisms (“I just love that dress -- every time you wear it!” to their oversized wigs and ball gowns for cocktail hour, not to insinuate that everyone on South Beach goes around in drag, but, well . . .) For the record, these are the Kibbles, South Beach’s answer to the Ewings: Mother Rrhona Kibble, Bridget Buttercup Kibble, Gidget Sweatpea Kibble, Sissy Bluebell Kibble, Taffy Jean Kibble and Rachel Steele Kibble, the divorcee. Not yet confirmed, we hear The Newlywed Game is slated for next week. Everyone is hoping for the return of the Drag Dating Game, brilliant last week as always.

Not enough for a tote board, but muy importante nevertheless: Guess what supermegastar’s hand-me-downs Kitty Meow is racing around wearing? (Begins with an M.) Yes! Madonna’s. It so happens Kitty was performing at an Oscars party that M’s brother Chris Ciccone also attended. As always, Kitty turned it out and, without warning, received a care package at Paragon, where she presides over the door on Saturday nights. Although most of the items were simple day dresses in a size a full-grown man would have difficulty fitting into, there were some Lycra things as well, Kitty reports.

Art exhibits seem to be a good summer activity, with Lincoln Road’s Atmosphere’s Gallery keeping up the pace. Last Saturday, artists Jef Hernandez, Adnan Razack and Dana Duane Craft collaborated and brought a number of locals out, including performer Daria Davis with Lady Carla, club promoter/dancer/hair stylist Yajaira, and protocolinarian John-John DeArmas, now organizing VIP parties for the hot new Union Bar and Grill.

Speaking of art, Absolut artist Romero Britto will be opening a studio on Lincoln Road, next to Gertrude’s coffee house. Welcome Romero, it’s about time.

Fat Black Pussycat

First published Nov. 21, 1993

John Hood is a Yale dropout and the son of the vice mayor of Miami Beach. He also is the guy who helps produce the Monday night scene at Fat Black Pussycat, the alley-entrance nightclub that is part of Mickey’s in South Beach. For 30 weeks now, he has orchestrated the club’s atmosphere, with its deep soul, old jazz tunes and exclusive attitude. Cocktail in hand, he entertains an “in-the-know” clientele — they need a password to get in.

With an encyclopedic knowledge of vintage trivia, John’s 1950s tough-guy persona is as palpable as the scene he markets. He wears zoot suits, he chain-smokes, frequents barber shops, calls the woman he lives with a “dame.” Ask where the name Fat Black Pussycat came from, and he can cite the precise historical reference. “I stole the idea from a place in Tangier in the ‘50s by the same name. It was owned by Louisa Carpenter, the Woolworth heiress. It was in a place the Germans, the Italians, the French and the Americans were all running shadow governments, so all the underworld was there, and all the beats went there. It was a swinging place.”

Not exactly the stuff of Ivy League Western Civ. Raised in Coral Gables, John gave up Yale after a year. “Yale is where you go to go into law, or politics or business. . . . They groom you to inherit power.” With what was to have been his tuition money, he moved to New York to break into the music scene and wound up signing a contract to write children’s books.

“Children’s books are second only to fast food in revenue growth these days,” he says, a trace of the Yalie showing through. He took an advance for a series called Children of the Olympians. Then he moved to Miami to write it. But “the clubs caught me,” he says. “You can’t do anything here. There are too many distractions. I blew my advance and I haven’t started yet.”

What could you eat forever?

Steak and bourbon.

Your key to success?

I’m a grifter. One who takes advantage of every opportunity. It’s a ‘50s word.

The daily grind?

I try to get up for Rockford at noon, but usually it’s Hawaii Five-0 at 3.

Your sense of style in a word?

Cholo. That’s Spanish for “tough guy.”

Your tragic flaw?

The tendency to lapse into focus-free mode. It can last a minute, or for a year.

Your noblest deed?

Not shooting people who deserve to be shot. I do that every day.

Ultimate goal?

To become an adjective, just part of the vocabulary. That something would be described as “hoodian” or “hoodesque.”

Greatest fear?

Being dishonest. I’m tempted to be dishonest nearly every minute.

How do you see yourself?

As a young fogie. I ripped that off from the neo- conservatives in England. A youth stuck in his ways.

What do you call home?

I live in a hotel room on the Beach. But it has Venetian blinds and a neon light outside blinking in. It’s very film noire.