Gerardo Gonzalez & Luxury Dade Group, 2550 S Bayshore Drive Suite 106, Miami, FL (2026)

09/15/2026

A public pool can belong to a city without costing everyone the same to enter.

At Venetian Pool in Coral Gables, the current posted adult admission is $7 for city residents and $23 for nonresidents. Same water. Same waterfalls. A different price at the gate.

Before calling that unfair, look at how the place came to exist.

In the 1920s, George Merrick was building a city with Mediterranean-style homes, plazas and grand entrances. Limestone came out of a quarry to help build that vision. What remained was a pit.

Merrick, artist Denman Fink and architect Phineas Paist turned that quarry into Venetian Pool. The city history page dates its opening as the Venetian Casino to 1924. Its general visitor page refers more broadly to use since 1923, so those two official descriptions are not perfectly aligned.

The important reversal is not the one-year difference. Material removed to build the city left behind a place that became one of its attractions.

A construction scar became a civic asset.

The early Venetian Casino attracted high-society visitors. The city records appearances by Johnny Weissmuller and Esther Williams. It also describes orchestras performing on the emptied pool floor, a tradition recreated in 2001 to mark the city anniversary.

This was not simply a hole filled with water. It was a place deliberately given a new identity, then used to help define the identity of the city around it.

That history makes the modern admission question more interesting, not less.

The easy assumption is that public means the same price for everyone. But public ownership, public access and equal admission prices are three different decisions. One does not automatically settle the other two.

There is a reasonable case for the resident discount.

People who live in a city have a continuing relationship with its services and public spaces. A local benefit can recognize that relationship and make a landmark part of ordinary community life, rather than something residents mostly watch visitors enjoy. A place can be famous without forgetting the people around it.

There is also a reasonable case for questioning how large the difference should be.

A person living just outside the city boundary can still be part of the wider South Florida community. Nonresident does not necessarily mean wealthy tourist. When an attraction is celebrated as regional heritage, the price of entering it deserves a conversation about access as well as revenue.

Those are arguments for this discussion, not claims that a new protest, lawsuit or pricing change has occurred. The city page lists the rates. It does not provide the operating budget needed to prove that either price is financially ideal.

My perspective as a Miami real estate advisor: I support a meaningful resident benefit, but I would not judge the size of a discount without the budget and access data.

I would want to know how admissions support operations, how often capacity is reached, and whether residents actually use the benefit. The city says ticket sales stop once the pool reaches maximum capacity. That means access is about space and timing too, not just the price on the sign.

For buyers, the practical lesson is surprisingly simple. Do not stop at a brochure saying a home is near a celebrated public amenity. Check the actual municipal boundary, resident qualifications, operating rules and how your household would use it.

A nearby attraction and a usable everyday benefit are not always the same thing. Neither automatically proves a property deserves a price premium.

Venetian Pool began with an imaginative answer to what a city could do with a quarry. The question now is how a civic landmark should serve the people who live around it and the people who come to experience it.

Public does not have to mean identical. But a difference should be explainable.

Is the $7 resident versus $23 nonresident adult rate a fair local benefit, or should a landmark like this have a smaller gap?

Sources: City of Coral Gables, Venetian Pool visitor and history pages, checked September 15, 2026. Rates are subject to change.
https://www.coralgables.com/attractions/venetian-pool
https://www.coralgables.com/department/community-recreation/venetian-pool-history

09/15/2026

A $28.9M headline is not a $28.9M closing.

The Real Deal reports that Juwan Howard’s estate at 9440 Old Cutler Lane in Coral Gables went under contract while asking $28.9 million. The reported price is the asking price, not a disclosed sale price.

For buyers and sellers, that distinction matters when choosing comparable sales. A signed contract signals activity. A recorded closing tells us what actually traded.

Today’s Market Pulse: https://luxurydade.com/pulse
Source: The Real Deal, September 15, 2026. https://therealdeal.com/miami/2026/09/15/juwan-howards-home-tops-miami-dade-luxury-contract-activity/

09/15/2026

The final cube is a construction milestone, not a move-in date. 🏙️

Waldorf Astoria Miami began its ninth and final cube in August, according to Florida YIMBY's August 27 report. The same report puts anticipated completion in Q2 2028. Those are two very different milestones.

For a Downtown Miami buyer, my question is not simply how tall the tower gets. It is whether the actual residence fits the way you plan to live.

Before comparing the skyline views, compare:
• The floor plan and orientation of the exact unit.
• The proposed ownership costs and what they include.
• The written deposit and delivery terms.

Construction progress is useful evidence. It does not guarantee a delivery date or future resale value.

What would carry more weight in your decision: the landmark address or the everyday fit?

🌐 Updated analysis: https://luxurydade.com/blog/waldorf-astoria-miami-supertall-2026

Rendering: PMG / Greybrook, via LuxuryDade. Image depicts the planned tower, not current construction. Timelines are estimates.

09/14/2026

Wynwood is not one rental market.

WOMA Wynwood launched sales for 163 residences in Wynwood Norte, according to The Real Deal on September 1. The developer said short-term rentals will not be allowed.

That restriction matters more than a projected nightly rate. Before buying, confirm the written rental terms, deposit milestones and delivery provisions for the exact residence.

Details: https://luxurydade.com/pipeline/woma-wynwood
Rendering: WOMA Wynwood LLC / Uribe Schwarzkopf. Planned project; terms may change.

09/14/2026

Most condo buildings in Miami Beach block short stays. Palma is built the other way.

Palma Miami Beach is a 14-story, roughly 121-residence tower at 600 71st Street in North Beach. The developer states there are no rental restrictions, which is the piece most buyers ask me about first, because the majority of Miami Beach condo rules do not allow a nightly or seasonal rental.

Reported project details (sources below):
- From $650,000, according to the South Florida Business Journal
- One-bedrooms, two-bedrooms and penthouses, about 405 to 1,342 sqft
- Delivered fully furnished and finished by Studio Ramirez, with a Bosch kitchen and impact glass
- Developer Lefferts, architect Built Form, general contractor KAST Construction
- More than 167,000 sqft of new construction, targeting LEED Gold
- Under construction, foundation work underway as of June 2026 per Florida YIMBY

For an end user it is a furnished beach base you can offset with rental income when you are not using it. For an investor it is a turnkey unit at a basis well below oceanfront Miami Beach new construction. Either way, the math changes with the floor and the exposure, so I would not reserve a stack without running it first.

Message me the word PALMA and I will send the current price sheet, the floor plan package and what is actually available, or I will put together a private comparison against the other rental-flexible North Beach launches.

Gerardo Gonzalez, Licensed Real Estate Agent at Compass, (305) 964-8614
Rendering courtesy of Palma Miami Beach / Lefferts. Pre-construction pricing, availability and deposit terms are released by the developer and are subject to change.

09/14/2026

The Biltmore was restored, reopened, and then closed again.

That is the part of the Coral Gables landmark's history that gets lost between the glamorous opening photographs and the successful comeback.

The hotel opened on January 15, 1926. George Merrick and hotel developer John McEntee Bowman had envisioned a destination that would do more than accommodate visitors. It would help define Coral Gables itself.

But a building's first purpose is not always its longest chapter.

During World War II, the Biltmore became an Army Air Forces hospital. It also served as an early home of the University of Miami's medical school, and remained a Veterans Administration hospital until closing in 1968.

Luxury resort. Military hospital. Medical education. Empty building.

In 1973, the City of Coral Gables received ownership under the Historic Monuments Act and Legacy of Parks program, according to the hotel's published history. Ownership changed. A working hotel did not immediately follow. The building remained unoccupied for years.

Then came what sounds like the happy ending.

In 1983, the city initiated a full restoration. The Biltmore reopened in 1987. USA TODAY's retrospective describes a $55 million investment associated with that restoration and reopening.

This is where a neat preservation story would normally stop: a community saved its landmark, restored its beauty and welcomed guests again.

Except the hotel closed again in 1990, amid the economic downturn.

A completed restoration had not made the business immune to the economy.

That distinction matters. The historical accounts do not establish that every dollar of the $55 million was taxpayer money, and I am not making that claim. Nor does a closure, by itself, prove that restoring the building was the wrong decision.

It does prove something narrower: reopening was not the end of the risk.

The next chapter began in 1992, when Seaway Hotels Group became the resort and golf course operator. The hotel's history describes a 10-year, $40 million renovation program covering guest rooms, public spaces and other facilities.

In other words, the eventual comeback required another operating chapter and another sustained commitment. The earlier grand reopening was a milestone, not a finish line.

Here is the debate I think this history deserves.

The preservation case is serious. A landmark can give a city identity that a replacement building cannot reproduce. Its value can extend beyond room revenue: architecture, shared memories, civic pride and the character of the surrounding neighborhood. A difficult business cycle does not automatically erase those values.

The financial-discipline case is serious too. A beautiful building still needs an operator, customers, maintenance and a way to survive a downturn. Restoring the physical asset does not eliminate recurring costs. Communities and investors should be able to ask who carries the next shortfall without being accused of not caring about history.

These are arguments about how to evaluate a rescue today, not invented quotations from people involved in the Biltmore's earlier decisions.

My perspective as a Miami real estate advisor: I would separate the value of saving a property from the economics of keeping it useful.

Before paying a premium for a promised restoration nearby, I would ask what is funded, who will operate it and what happens after the reopening celebration. Before buying into an older building, I would ask whether the budget covers the ongoing work, not just the most visible improvement.

A newly restored lobby is evidence that work happened. It is not evidence that future obligations disappeared.

The Biltmore's story is not an argument for abandoning difficult landmarks. It is an argument for giving preservation a longer financial horizon than the ribbon-cutting photograph.

Saving a building and sustaining its next use are different jobs. A credible plan has to explain both.

Saving the building wasn't enough to save the business.

When a landmark's restoration succeeds but its business closes again, should the community back another attempt or require a different use before making another commitment?

Sources: Biltmore Hotel history and USA TODAY's February 24, 2017 retrospective.
https://biltmorehotel.com/about-miami-resort/
https://www.usatoday.com/story/travel/hotels/2017/02/24/biltmore-hotel-coral-gables-florida/98246016/

09/11/2026

The Lincoln in Coconut Grove has secured a $58 million construction loan, according to South Florida Agent's September 9 report.

The project from LORE Development Group and Element Development has 48 residences, with completion targeted for Q3 2028. That is a target, not a guarantee.

My buyer's view: financing is a meaningful milestone, but it does not replace a review of deposit terms, construction timing and the purchase contract. Compare the proposed finishes with the written specifications.

Project details: https://luxurydade.com/buildings/the-lincoln-coconut-grove
Rendering courtesy of LORE Development Group.

09/10/2026

Believing in Miami isn't a signed lease.

In 2022, Swire Properties and Related Companies had a plan for One Brickell City Centre: a huge office tower in the middle of Miami's financial district, aimed at the finance and technology companies arriving in town.

The site was concrete, not hypothetical: 700 Brickell Avenue and 799 Brickell Plaza. The ambition was equally concrete. Commercial Observer later described a 68-story, 1.5 million-square-foot office proposal on 2.8 acres.

By January 2025, the story had reversed. Swire was putting the land up for sale instead of building that tower.

For anyone buying property around Brickell, that is where the interesting argument starts.

The familiar Miami story went like this: companies move here, executives follow, offices fill, and nearby homes benefit. If you believed in that chain, a major new office tower looked like confirmation. Not just another rendering. Evidence that the neighborhood's next chapter was becoming inevitable.

But the people underwriting a building need something more specific than a city's reputation.

They need tenants willing to commit to that building, on those terms, on that timetable.

Henry Bott, president of Swire Properties in the U.S., put it plainly. As reported by Bloomberg and quoted by Commercial Observer in January 2025, pre-leasing for that specific scheme had not materialized as hoped. Commercial Observer reported that the project had not secured an anchor tenant.

That qualification matters: that specific scheme.

It does not establish that every Brickell office was struggling, that companies had stopped moving to Miami, or that nearby apartments had suddenly become bad purchases. One proposal is not a market-wide sample. A neighborhood can attract investment while a particular building fails its own financial test.

The overlooked twist is that walking away did not mean the land had become worthless.

Swire's 2025 annual report records the sale of the adjacent Brickell City Centre development land in May 2025 for approximately US$211.5 million. The report identifies about 1.5 million square feet of gross floor area associated with that land. That is not a completed office building, and it is not the land's acreage.

Nor was Swire's decision a simple farewell to Miami. Reporting on the cancellation described its intention to redirect proceeds toward its Mandarin Oriental-branded development on nearby Brickell Key.

Office tenants and luxury-home buyers are different customers. One group's appetite cannot be substituted for the other's.

There are two reasonable ways to read this.

The first is discipline. If the required tenants are not committing, refusing to build can protect capital and prevent a costly mistake. A developer should be allowed to change its mind when evidence changes. Insisting on construction merely because the rendering was impressive would be a strange definition of confidence.

The second is a warning about what kind of growth a neighborhood is actually getting. Someone who wants Brickell to deepen as an employment center can reasonably be disappointed when a major office proposal disappears while luxury residential investment remains prominent. Homes, hotels and offices can support one another, but they are not interchangeable contributions to a district.

That is a debate about the city's direction, not proof that either side is foolish.

My perspective as a Miami real estate advisor: I respect the decision not to force a project that cannot secure its expected commitments. I also think buyers should be careful when a future neighboring development is used to justify today's asking price.

A proposed office tower is not an occupied office tower. An announced restaurant is not an operating restaurant. A transit concept is not a train you can board.

Before paying for that future, separate what exists from what is proposed. Ask whether the project has the approvals, financing and customer commitments it needs. Then ask a harder question: would you still want this property, at this price, if that neighboring project never arrived?

That does not mean future improvements have no value. It means the uncertainty belongs in the price, rather than disappearing inside an optimistic sales story.

The lesson from One Brickell City Centre is not that Miami's growth was imaginary. It is that broad enthusiasm and a specific project's bankable demand are different things.

The skyline in a brochure cannot sign a lease.

For Brickell, was canceling this office tower mainly a sign of healthy financial discipline, or a warning that the neighborhood's employment ambitions were running ahead of tenant demand?

09/10/2026

The runway wasn't the biggest risk. What followed it was.

In 1968, construction began on an airport in the Big Cypress swamp that was meant to change South Florida's future.

Not a small airport. Six runways. A 39-square-mile site. A proposed 1,000-foot-wide transportation corridor carrying a highway and a high-speed monorail between Florida's coasts.

The National Park Service's history says the planned Everglades Jetport would have been five times the size of New York's JFK airport. The site lay just six miles north of Everglades National Park.

You can understand the pitch without agreeing with the location.

South Florida was growing. Aviation promised faster connections. Supersonic travel looked like the future, but aircraft breaking the sound barrier over populated neighborhoods posed an obvious problem. A remote site offered room and distance from those neighborhoods.

For people thinking about jobs, tourism, transportation and land values, this was not simply a runway. It was an economic engine waiting to start.

That was also the problem.

The common way to judge a project is to draw a boundary around it. How much land does it occupy? What happens inside the fence? Can the immediate damage be reduced?

But the boundary on the application is not necessarily the boundary of the consequences.

Russell Train, then an Interior Department undersecretary, asked hydrologist Luna Leopold to investigate. Leopold worked with scientist and conservationist Arthur Marshall and the National Park Service's Manuel Morris on an environmental impact report released in 1969.

Its warning went well beyond planes.

The report argued that the airport and its supporting facilities would trigger drainage and development for transportation, agriculture and services in Big Cypress, with destructive consequences for the wider South Florida ecosystem and Everglades National Park.

In other words: the project was not just what officials were building. It was what the project would make other people want to build next.

The same hotels, roads and businesses that made the airport attractive to its supporters made its location dangerous to its opponents.

A coalition of hunters, conservationists and citizen activists pushed back. Marjory Stoneman Douglas and the newly formed Friends of the Everglades were among those pressing for a different location.

In 1970, the Everglades Jetport Pact halted the work. The port authority began looking for another site. The six-runway vision left behind a single runway.

That outcome is easy to celebrate with hindsight. The decision itself raises a harder question.

How much future growth should a community count when it approves the first piece of infrastructure?

The strongest development argument is not that nature has no value. It is that a growing region needs places to put essential infrastructure. Moving noise away from homes solves a real problem. Transportation access can support livelihoods. Refusing one location does not eliminate the demand.

The strongest conservation argument is not that growth must stop. It is that some locations create costs that cannot be contained by the project's property lines. If a public investment opens sensitive land to a wave of development, reviewing only the first construction footprint misses the actual decision.

Both arguments deserve more than a slogan.

My perspective as a Miami real estate advisor: a promised road, station or airport is not automatically a reason to pay more for nearby property. First ask what has actually been approved, what remains contested and what additional development the infrastructure would enable.

Then ask the uncomfortable question: does the value depend on an assumption the community has not agreed to?

Buyers should be careful here. A compelling growth story can be real without being certain. A transportation proposal is not an entitlement. A construction start is not proof that the full plan will happen. And an improvement that benefits one parcel can impose costs far beyond it.

This is a historical lesson from the 1968-1970 jetport fight, not a claim about the site's current use or a prediction about today's projects.

The point is not to oppose every big idea. It is to evaluate the second and third moves before paying for the first.

Sometimes the most important line in a development plan is the one nobody has drawn yet.

Should infrastructure approvals account for the development they are likely to attract, or should each later project get its own separate review?

09/04/2026

A joint venture obtained a $154.3 million building permit for 6 Fisher Island, a 584,670-square-foot, 50-residence project, according to The Real Deal.

The permit is a construction signal, not another launch announcement. The project started work in 2024 behind a reported $400 million construction loan. With only 50 residences, buyers should focus early on floor, line, exposure, and the deposit schedule.

The same report puts the site purchase at $122.6 million and the construction loan at $400 million.

Read the sourced update: https://luxurydade.com/pulse

Gerardo Gonzalez & Luxury Dade Group

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