Changes more than skin deep in the Venice of America

by Paul Rubio

Fort Lauderdale shined in the eighties as a Spring Break haven for Generation X, the ultimate palladium of wet t-shirt contests, Sun-In, and carcinogenic tan lines. Miami Vice met the trailer park during the decade of excess and Reagansim as this once small town became a world-renown Mecca of sardine packed motel rooms and Pabst Blue Ribbon-strewn beaches.

Spring Breakers were literally kicked out in 1986 when the mayor booted MTV and appeared on Good Morning America to un-invite college students. By the following year both Cher and Fort Lauderdale had officially lost their identity.

Above: The Floridian Restaurant.

Fearing paradise lost, the city soon endeavored what would become a 2 billion dollar face-lift to clean up the Aquanet oil slick and promote urban economic development. A new mayor in '92, a revitalization strategy, a tourism marketing blitzkrieg, by the mid-nineties Fort Lauderdale was promoting gay tourism and campaigning upscale clientèle to visit.

Greater Fort Lauderdale's strongest attraction is arguably the twenty-three miles of powdery sand and palm-fringed, lucid waters that line the coastline from Hallandale to Deerfield Beach. Ready for action or relaxation, gay men swarm a small section of this Atlantic bliss known as Sebastian Beach. Frolicking like foraging possums on nature's playground, roasting in the fiery sun, the scantily clad expose both the latest and the outdated, gossiping about Fort Lauderdale's continuous nightlife. As opposed to SoBe's "Muscle Beach" reputation, Sebastian finds itself the "Cheers" of South Florida's beaches—gregarious and relaxed, stripped and raw, with all ages and sizes, from Latino twinks and porn stars to leather daddies and oversized bears.

With some twenty gay guesthouses located within walking distance of Sebastian, the competition and camaraderie seems to have goaded guest service to dizzying extremes. Staff at these singular B&Bs champion neo-indentured servitude, entertaining diva-esque requests (like going for an alcohol run in a torrential downpour). It is unlike any other city I've visited and my three favorite guesthouses do boast a nearly extinct breed of genuine service. Locals often out-number snowbirds at the Flamingo Inn Amongst the Flowers, Fort Lauderdale's therapeutic floristic beach oasis, a sheltered tranquility from the drama and cruziness of the gay world. The Grand Resort and Spa sports a full service spa and a Melrose Place set up, with rooms radiating from the central pool, a social meeting point for new friends and tricks, nightly happy hour and Sunday mimosas. A little less than a mile from the beach and closer to downtown, Pineapple Point redefines the gay guest house experience with service that would outshine Bree Vandicamp. A maze of tropical cottages and dense foliage, the treasure map leads to four (clothing optional) hot tubs and swimming pools (including a sleek lap pool), often equipped with nude guests (in my case twelve police officers). For those who prefer the contemporary "hotel experience," the oceanfront W hotel is slated to open late fall 2008 while The Ritz-Carlton Hotel and Atlantic Hotel provide Fort Lauderdale beaches' uber-sophisticated options.

"Fort Lauderdale went into hiding for a good ten years, through a painful process of nip and tuck, until its slogans matched reality."

Heading away from downtown and the beach, the city sheds all remnants of its more delightfully pretentious counterparts, approaching the residential municipalities of Wilton Manors and Oakland Park. Fort Lauderdale's gay heart and soul, Wilton Manors, shines as a queer utopia for thirty-plus couples and retirees, complete with bars, restaurants, gyms, stores, realtors, and travel agents, that specifically cater to the gay community. With stores affectionately named Bottoms and Tops and Gay Mart, Wilton Manors is the core of Fort Lauderdale�s older gay life.

Aspects of Fort Lauderdale still stand as a nostalgic reminder of everything 1984. But tireless efforts to change the face of the Fort Lauderdale have truly paid off, and the city is again on the map—this time notorious for its natural beauty, its marinas, the arts, and its thriving gay community. Living in Fort Lauderdale is unique—it's a city of progress and originality, without claims to being a major US metropolis like LA, New York or even Miami. Rather than monster circuit parties or an immense gay pride, Fort Lauderdale prefers to host national rotating events like the National Gay Softball World Series and the National Gay Rodeo. In the wake of new hotels and refurbished guest houses, nearly half a million spring breakers have returned to Fort Lauderdale beach, and the city hosts one of the biggest parades in the country—the Fort Lauderdale boat parade in December. This city has evolved as a unique combination of new and old, urban and residential, the trendy and distasteful. Ft. Lauderdale remains a pleasure-dome reprieve from harsh winters, and is a contemporary example of gay expression and settled life.