Miami has many stunning houses. Thousands of them probably. Most of them are white, shiny, ridiculously expensive, and vaguely interchangeable, like luxury yachts owned by people who clap when the plane lands.
But every once in a while something turns up that makes you stop, squint slightly, and mutter, oh… hello. Casa Moderne is one of those properties.
It sits at the end of a private cul-de-sac in Bay Point, which is Miami-speak for “you will not be wandering in here by accident unless you are extremely wealthy or extremely lost.” This is the sort of neighbourhood where pop stars have parked their relationships for a few years, left emotional tyre marks, and moved on. Enrique Iglesias lived nearby. Joe Jonas too. Make of that what you will.
The house itself doesn’t scream. It doesn’t need to. It simply stands there, all wood cladding and clean lines, like it knows exactly what it costs and finds that quite amusing. Nearly thirty million dollars, if you’re wondering. Or $29.9 million to be more exact. And no, before you ask, that does not include a sense of financial restraint.
It’s big, obviously. Over six thousand square feet. Six bedrooms. Half an acre of land, which in Miami is roughly the same as owning a small principality. But what really matters isn’t the size. It’s the attitude. This place has confidence.
You approach via a backlit stone staircase, which immediately tells you two things. First, someone thought very hard about how this entrance should feel at night. Second, you are absolutely expected to arrive home after dark in something expensive and German.
Inside, the hallway does that modern thing where marble and black accents glare at each other across vast open space. There’s a floating staircase, because we all know gravity is optional when you’re spending this kind of money.
The ceilings are high. Not cathedral-high. Just high enough to make you stand a bit straighter and reconsider your posture.
The kitchen is, predictably, enormous. A vast island sits in the middle like an aircraft carrier, with seating for seven, which suggests the owner expects breakfast to resemble a board meeting. Wolf ovens and stoves line the walls with the confidence of professional tools. A walk-in wine cellar, holding over five hundred bottles, stands between kitchen and family room like a transparent promise of good decisions ahead.
Beyond the glass, the house opens fully to the outdoors. A wraparound infinity pool traces the edge of the structure, shimmering in the heat. The water stays warm year-round. A Jacuzzi bubbles nearby. A pergola shades an outdoor bar and barbecue area, set up for evenings that stretch longer than intended. At the far edge, a private dock waits behind a green wall, ready for boats and impulsive coastal escapes.
Upstairs, the primary suite delivers the sort of calm usually reserved for boutique hotels with excellent pillows. A private terrace looks out across Biscayne Bay, especially effective at sunrise. The bathroom features a freestanding tub, steam showers, and floating cabinetry arranged with Italian precision. The walk-in closet follows the same philosophy, rich wood panels and modular elements creating order that feels deliberate rather than strict.
The other bedrooms don’t sulk in the background. Each has its own bathroom and balcony, because sharing facilities at this level would be vulgar.
There’s also an office, which may or may not ever see actual work, and a six-hole mini golf course. This last detail is important. It tells you everything. This is a house built by someone who understands that success should come with toys.
Casa Moderne took years to get here. The land was bought back in 2012, and the house only reached completion in 2023. It shows. Nothing feels rushed. Nothing feels accidental. It’s modern, yes, but not cold. Luxurious, but not desperate.
This isn’t a castle by the sea. Castles are drafty and full of ghosts. This is something far more dangerous.
A house that makes you wonder, just briefly, whether thirty million dollars might actually be quite reasonable after all.
