An Italian Renaissance palazzo on Biscayne Bay. A French tea house. Docks for gondolas. Fountains with tiny jets of water reminiscent of the Moorish influence. Grottos, secret gardens, mossy fountains, graceful stairways and wide alleys. Weathered statuary and carvings, some of which emerges from the rock. Vestiges from the Renaissance or an illusion? In his foreword to a book on Vizcaya, Carl Weinhardt quoted Shakespeare’s As Your Like it: “All the world’s a stage. . . .”
The stage was set by James Deering, who made his fortune with International Harvester. He hired an architect, landscaper, and interior decorator to build a palazzo overlooking Biscayne Bay at a time when just about anything seemed possible in Florida. Natural resources appeared unlimited. The Everglades were being drained to create an agricultural cornucopia as well as rid the state of what was then considered a wasteland. Carl Fisher developed Miami Beach and George Merrick, Coral Gables.
“Nothing of the size and scope of the proposed Vizcaya estate had been attempted in Florida before this time,” wrote Doris Bayley Littlefield, curator of collections, Vizcaya Museum and Gardens, and author of the book, Vizcaya.
To have a small Italian Renaissance palazzo overlooking Biscayne Bay does seem somewhat frivolous, particularly given Deering’s penchant for original European furnishings, antiquities, marbles and the elaborate detail of the construction itself.
In 1916, he opened his estate to family, friends and celebrities. More recently, it has been the setting of a papal visits, movies and fund raisers. Vizcaya may have been a stage set for sumptuous parties back in its heyday. But today the stage is set for quinceañeras.
One Sunday in late January we visited Vizcaya. More than 15 years had passed since I had seen the gardens and the resident cats, and I had never visited the interior. The wind blew in gusts, and the clouds covered the skies. We waited in line to pay our $15 admission and watched a type of staged performance as a photographer, lighting technician, a makeup artist and anxious parents fluttered around a young girl dressed in a billowing, marigold-colored gown. Her entourage helped her gather the large skirts of the gown, refreshed makeup and shouted directives for the next photo shoots. Someone in line explained the importance of this rite of passage as a young girl makes the transition into womanhood, which implies not only her coming out but also her acceptance of responsibility. This girl was only one of numerous quinceañeras we could see that blustery day.
Unlike Versailles or the Biltmore, Vizcaya is a palazzo on a manageable scale. The gardens are enticing, and they encourage visitors to linger or even sit alongside the basins. In contrast, the interior seemed very formal, too contrived, with its décor just a little too heavy and ornate, and with a view of Biscayne Bay nearly obscured by draperies. Back in the gardens, descendants of the original cats lingered near the sandwich stand awaiting handouts (I shared my grilled cheese). One quinceañera stood in the public bathroom applying more makeup. Vizcaya continues to offer a dream-like stage.
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