At Amnesia, a swarm of long-legged, flowing-haired, ripple-chested models seize the dance floor for Madonna's "Vogue" at a Michele Pommier's season-opener party.
A few nights later, it's time for Irene Marie scout Jack Donahue's weekly social for photographers, agents, producers and models, models, models. The wannabes, coulda-beens and already theres pass their "books" over white wine at Ocean Drive hotels.
"Here, take my card. Are you signed with an agency? Let's talk."
And here's Jacqueline McArthur, of Black Models Network, with her fistful of business cards, slipping one to a burly bouncer as she breezes out of Bash. "I'm serious. Give me a call."
If there were ticker tape machines at Ocean and Eighth -- either streetside or planted in the sand -- South Beach might sound like the New York Stock Exchange -- with more panache. Modeling season is in full bloom -- 15 blocks of photo shoots, bookers, scouts and enough models to make an onlooker feel like the Elephant Man on a bad hair day.
So, maybe it hasn't the cachet of Paris or the sheer sprawl of Manhattan -- where models roost year-round, not just for an October-to-April season. But insiders say cute and compact has its advantages.
"We are all literally one on top of the other," says Irene Marie, one of the Beach's grande dames of modeling and owner of the agency that bears her name. "In a very small radius, everyone is here. It's a very visible community, with all the cafes. Not only are we all next to each other, but we're all going to the same restaurants."
That translates into better exposure, more intense interaction, enhanced influence for all, says Pat Swift, owner of Plus Models, who expanded her New York-based office to Miami Beach three seasons ago. She runs one of about a dozen agencies now entrenched on South Beach since the growth spurt leveled off a year ago.
That means, for the next six breathless months, finding the Young and the Gorgeous here will be like shooting fish in a barrel. And for good numbers of unsuspecting Beautiful Bods and Fab Faces, it could mean a life-changing moment.
South Beach, says Dominique Caffin, the Miami-based scout for Ford Models, is beginning to feel like Paris. "In Paris, they go down the Champs Elysees with their cards and say, 'Oh, which agency are you with? This one is better.' " Sometimes scouts need go no farther than their windows for the Next Big Face. Zing. The real-life chance encounters rival "Models Inc." plotlines:
Fourteen-year-old Isamar Gonzalez, who'd moved to Miami from New York, was zipping along on in-line skates when she inadvertently buzzed past Jack Donahue's window. Donahue, scout for Irene Marie, was hooked. The statuesque Isamar got a contract. She started in the runway division (where many new models without portfolios begin), then it was off to Paris and New York.
Caroline Filippi, a 19-year-old physical therapy student from Kendall, Fla., was waiting for her brother outside of Glam Slam at 3 a.m. when Ms. McArthur saw her. "I was wearing dirty jeans, a dirty T-shirt, looking haggard, and she walked up to me and said, 'Call me tomorrow morning.' I actually thought she'd lost her mind." Now, Filippi's booked for national ads.
Vanessa Nygro, 16, was strolling on Ocean Drive with her mother last year, when Mr. Donahue beckoned to them from across the street. They were on vacation from Massachusetts. Since then, she's had a spread in Mademoiselle. "It's crazy," says Vanessa, kind of happily dazed. She's so laid-back about modeling she could be describing her last visit to the mall.
Ray Rodriguez, a 24-year-old Irene Marie model, was having lunch at the News Cafe this summer when designer Gianni Versace invited him to dinner with his family at his Ocean Drive mansion. Mr. Rodriguez wound up with a highly coveted Versace booking. "Then I REALLY took it seriously," says Mr. Rodriguez, an Aventura, Fla., bartender and restaurant management student.
Yawn. Another Day in the Life at the South Beach Models' Colony. Off-duty models, still stunning in baggy overalls and long T-shirts, whiz by on bicycles. At the cafes, bookers strategize in urgent French, Italian and German. Turn the corner, and you'll run into a foot-long camera lens.