Talk about an upgrade—or more accurately, a re-invention.  For years, the beach party of White Party weekend has been an ancillary event: a Saturday afternoon sandbox before Sunday night’s Vizcaya glam-slam.  A couple years ago, however, CareResource got wise and switched Vizcaya to the more appropriate Saturday night—and the beach party to Sunday afternoon—and this year, CareResource got even wiser and hired Johnny Chisholm to reconceptualize the entire beach event and make it closer to what people remember when they think of beach parties on Miami Beach.  This year, Muscle Beach got steroided—and it’s never looked better. 

The theme was The Land Before Time, executed by (D’OH!) RKM Futureboys (What would beach parties be without them?  Don’t even think about it!)—and even from half a mile down the beach, you could see what appeared to a be a Jurassic rain forest mirage in shades of phosphorescent green, chartreuse, and acid orange.  The Muscle Beach banner was the size of those which fly behind airplanes circling over the beach.  There were day-glo tribal masks and palm fronds of all variety, and white tenting and a VIP lounge with couches—and at three pm, Roland Belmares was in the house, proclaiming, “Music is My Life.”  No question about it.  Hilton and Mel were there, with son Myron and the inimitable Mizz Cori, and HRH Wendy Hunt, and Tracy Young with Her Hottie Posse, and Jake and Jesse, and Joe G. (the just-announced deejay for WinterParty—the next big Miami beach party—just three short months away—buy your tix now!) 

And there were pink sun hats and white shades and all sorts of provocative Andrew Christian undies—or “Sexy Armor,” as one song lyric has it.  Oh, and b’ball shorts—about which someone else was saying, “Basketball shorts—what a great invention.  They slide off so easily.” 

But even more than b’ball shorts, Muscle Beach this year was all about the smile.  The Land Before Time was an island of happy people, surfing a perfect wave of rhythm and beat.  Uncontrollably happy boyz werked it out with joyful abandon.  There was a sense of the carefree (albeit without risk or danger) which exemplified the theme of a place beyond time—as if the party were an oasis of Lost Boyz from Neverland who’d washed ashore for the afternoon. 

And as if to validate the Beach’s reputation for health and well-being, there was an overwhelming abundance of beautiful skin: such smooth, clean skin in a myriad hues, all catching the day’s rays as the sun slid behind the Miami skyline.

Then came the gloaming—and the lights flickered through the rain forest, dancing over the dazed faces of boyz entwined.  Who can resist the romance of a Miami night as the moon rises above the ocean?  Who wouldn’t hear the call of the Beach?  Who wouldn’t want to linger?  When, indeed, has the plea “Please, Don’t Stop the Music” ever been more heartfelt?

If this year’s incarnation is any indication, then there’s no question: Muscle Beach has come of age—and it’s to the credit of CareResource and the creative acumen of people such as Johnny Chisholm.  This is one party that’s gotten better with time—and right now it’s looking mighty fine.