We’re always looking for excuses to ﬂee the northerly frigidity, and the beach-and-beautiful-people bender that is Art Basel in Miami is just the migration we need—in the words of Will Smith, we only come for two days of playin’/but every time we come we always wind up stayin’. Scattered between the art installations and champagne ﬂutes are the equally stately Gallery Girls—the Hannah Bronfman’s, Harley Viera Newton’s, and Lauren Santo Domingo’s of the art world whose raison d’être seems to be solely to make us want to dump our suitcases into the Atlantic and start all over.
First off, if you’re going to be brushing Balenciagas with this bunch, it’s time to start packing, stat. One outﬁt a night just ain’t gonna cut it—this crowd is used to hourly ensemble changes à la Anna Dello Russo, and everyone knows Art Basel is as much about the gallery as it is the gallery girls.
It’s also high season for ménages à Miami—Bronfman found love in a not-so-hopeless place (she met boyfriend Brendan Fallis at Le Baron’s pop-up club at Art Basel Miami two years ago). And you never know when you’ll sit at the same table as street artist Skullphone, who will end up making you a one-of-a-kind CHANEL cross in resin that has to be driven cross-country and can’t be touched by human ﬂesh. Or, you know, just a day in the life of Lori Levine.
If last year’s AB Miami is any indication (think beachside barbecues, sparklers and artsy A-listers), we vote for erring on the side of caution—read: bring three suitcases full of options. For night, structured toppers, short-shorts and shorter hemlines, and Spring-Breaker brights for the Soho Beach House (this is Florida, after all). Leave headroom for a tropical-ﬂower crown, and an armory of frizz-control weapons to combat the sea-salty humidity.
Who knows, if you play your cards right, you can hope for an “and friend” mention in Harper’s Bazaar when accidentally sandwiched between Laure Heriard Dubreuil and Hilary Rhoda—Cov-alum-reunion down south, anyone?
— Chelsey Burnside