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You don't need me to tell you to go to the Delano (phone 305-672-2000). Every carbon-based life form on the planet knows it's ground zero for the way-hip and the wannabes. Just drape yourself in black, suck in your cheeks and vogue away.

No, if you want to really see Miami, do it this way: Start your morning in the Parrot Cafe (305-666-4931) at Parrot Jungle (natch) in South Dade. You can work your way through a cafeteria line full of cheese omelets, green Jell-O cubes and potent percolator coffee while you check out the German tourists in socks-mit-sandals feeding the unbelievably gorgeous birds. Then, nose your rented convertible across the Miami River to Stone Age Antiques (305-633-5114), probably the coolest place in the entire world. Desperately want 48 brass diver's helmets? They got 'em. Giant stuffed marlins? Look no further. Ceremonial swords of the Spanish Conquistadors? Child's play.

Worked up an appetite looking for your initials in the piles of crusty semaphore flags? Lucky you, Canary Islands Restaurant (305-649-0440) is just up the street. Order the Churrasco, half a cow's worth of marinated flank steak smothered in garlic and onions; boniato frito, crispy fried sticks of the sweet potato-like tuber; and arroz y frijoles (rice and beans).

Now you're just a few blocks away from Calle Ocho (Eighth Street) and the Botanicas, where you can pick up all your Santeria needs, including "Find Love" spray, "Get Money" candles, and more bleeding-stigmata Jesus dolls than you ever hoped to see in your life.

After a disco nap (don't be embarrassed, everyone here does it, it's the heat), grab a cab and be the only tourist at La Covacha (305-594-3717), an enormous, open-air, thatched-hut nightclub sprawled out where the Everglades used to be. Finally, spend the rest of your evening (and morning?) on South Beach -- at the Delano, even. Hell, it's why you came here in the first place.

Born and raised on Miami Beach, Bruce Turkel is executive creative director and

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