The year was 2000 and South Beach was still riding high on its status as a sizzling sandbox of celeb-saturated clubs, bars and restaurants. There was Level, Bar Room, and The Living Room and even the bar at the Marlin Hotel where the likes of Martha Stewart and Bono boozed it up to a reggae soundtrack. There was, and always will be The News Cafe, but Ocean Drive was and is, well, Ocean Drive.

For the locals, however, there was still nothing like the cafe society on Lincoln Road, perhaps best defined by Segafredo, the Italian-accented, jet setty juxtaposition between tourists and visitors looking for drinks, snacks, Hotel Costes soundtracks and maybe a cute European to talk to. Celebs, meh. Maybe, but, unlike the rest of town, it wasn’t about that.