Art Basel Miami, Day 1: Wongs and Ratts

Bienvenido a Miami! First on the agenda: Cuban coffee. My delightful former girlfriend (DFG) whisked me from the airport to Abuela’s in Miami Beach, where we picked up a cortadita for her and a not-too-sweet Cubano for me.

World's tiniest coffee cups.

On to DFG's airy new 12th floor pad, with expansive views of the bay dotted with sailboats, where we met up with DFG’s adorable current girlfriend (ACG). We clinked celebratory flutes of champagne on the balcony, which has a way-too-low wall – cue paralyzing vertigo – then headed to dinner at Bloom in Wynwood. 
On the way they pointed out the apartment building that passes for the Miami Police Department on Dexter, the show that has taught me everything I know about Miami. Most of which, apparently, is wrong, but I don't care, because Jennifer Carpenter.

Wynwood is a former industrial zone which emptied out when manufacturing moved to China, then filled back up when enterprising souls turned warehouses into galleries, shops and bars. It boasts a monthly art walk, buildings covered in arty graffiti and milling crowds of art-watchers in skinny jeans and platform wedges.

Bloom serves up cocktails in Mason jars, Latin/Asian fusion cuisine and a fabulous old-school jazz quartet. At dinner, ACG thanked me for being a Wong. They laughed at my quizzical expression. A Wong, I learned, is not (always) a Chinese person but their handy descriptor (the result of a texting typo) for an ex-lover who didn’t work out. But sometimes exes aren’t wrong – they serve their purpose, then we move on. So, an ex who’s right at the time, I argued, is a Ratt.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had my share of Wongs. I’ve certainly been one...once or twice.