Let’s say you’re a wildly successful entrepreneur, investor and philanthropist who craves all-white interiors, dramatically open spaces and beach sunsets fit for a postcard. Where do you buy your slice of paradise? One obvious option is Florida’s Key Biscayne, the exclusive island retreat just south of Miami Beach. And if you’re Carmen Busquets, the so-called fairy godmother of fashion ecommerce, you buy a sprawling beachfront penthouse where the storied Sonesta Beach Resort once stood and stuff it with bespoke design and contemporary art.
“I was like, ‘Oh my God, what happened to it?’” she recalls of seeing her one-time hangout demolished in 2006. Wearing a flowing red Vita Kin dress, Gabriela Hearst sandals and L’Heure Bleue perfume by Guerlain, she explains that the shock didn’t deter her. Instead, she felt drawn to the spot that a decade later would be her home. “I just had the feeling that I would love to live where the Sonesta was,” says the feisty 60-year-old. When she learned that the site was earmarked for a 142-condominium building, she researched the reputation of its Argentine developer, Consultatio, and staked her claim.
Venezuela-born Busquets has an eye for investment. The list of fashion and media platforms she has financed includes The Business of Fashion, Moda Operandi, Farfetch and Lyst. In 2000, she bought an initial 14 per cent stake in Net-A-Porter for £250,000; when the company was sold in 2015, the business was valued at about £950mn. She went on to found (and fold) CoutureLab, an ecommerce site for craftspeople, which later became an investment vehicle for emerging luxury startups.
Her most recent investment, though, is linked to Matches. In December it was announced that the London-based retailer, which went into administration in 2024, was being rebooted by Hulcan, a newly formed luxury group helmed by Mario Maher and Joe Wilkinson, founders of the members-only shopping app Mile. They feel fortunate to have Busquets’ support. “She is a true industry insider with a rare understanding of brands, customers and business,” says Wilkinson.
“They’re building the business the way I did,” says Busquets, referring to her first launch, Cabus, a boutique in Caracas. It rarely held overstock beyond the last two seasons, which was efficient. It also helped boost profits.
Busquets has strong ties to Miami: her mother’s Cuban family migrated there after the Bay of Pigs invasion in 1961, and she visited the city frequently as a girl. Her Catalan father was a metallurgist. “My mother was a sociologist and anthropologist, so her curiosity was endless,” she says. Their visits to couturiers together sparked a lifelong interest in fashion. She also found it a useful tool for self-expression, given the struggles she had with communicating (at 22, she learnt she was partially deaf; later still, she found out she was dyslexic). Did either issue ever deter her? “Oh no, it didn’t,” she says emphatically.
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She has owned the penthouse since the building’s completion in 2014. When she got the keys to the space, though, she was horrified by the layout. “I hated it,” says Busquets, who also owns homes in Verbier and Paris. “The reason I bought this apartment was to be able to see the sunrise and sunset.” That required two years of “undoing the walls”.
Initially, there were eight bedrooms; now there are five. Ceilings rose 10cm. The dining room disappeared. The kitchen, which was partially closed off, is now mostly open. Only one bathroom and the load-bearing walls survived. “I don’t have children,” says Busquets, striding toward the long hallway that leads to the bedrooms. “You close the rooms when you have children. You want to hide somewhere.”
It’s a rare cloudy day in Miami, but the ocean’s horizon is still visible from the U-shaped balcony. All is quiet except for the low hum of the elevator, which opens on to the 13th floor. Two large digital images by the Shanghai-based art collective Liu Dao greet visitors upon their arrival. Nearby, Busquets has installed a computer animation by American artist Jennifer Steinkamp of fluttering butterflies.
Colour is a theme throughout her art collection. In the living area, an installation of neon-painted aluminium flowers is by Florida artist Soraya Abu Naba’a. The furniture, meanwhile, stands out for its beauty and versatility. “Everything has to be flexible,” she says. Israeli designer Arik Levy’s polished stainless-steel coffee tables join together to make one large table or double as ottomans; two marble-clad kitchen islands roll across the wooden floors on castors and can be commandeered to serve cheese trays and wine, or function as sushi bars when she’s entertaining. She also hosts pyjama parties with friends.
For years, the sloping cushions of Paulin Paulin Paulin’s Dune sofa were moved around when friends came to visit. Then Busquets, an avid reader, panicked: “Where am I going to put all my books?” Benjamin Paulin, son of the brand’s namesake designer, solved the problem with a custom bookshelf set discreetly beneath the cushions, albeit with one caveat: it locks the seats in place.
Busquets likes being able to rearrange things as the mood suits her. She would even sell the penthouse if she found the right buyer. “I see it as selling a company,” she says. “You need someone with more money and power to match your emotional attachment.”
But one constant is her love of craftsmanship. An intriguing example in her home is the hemp rope stools by Christian Astuguevieille. The French artistic director for fashion houses and fragrance brands such as Hermès and Comme des Garçons Parfums, as well as a creator of sculptural furniture, is one of many artists Busquets has remained loyal to since her CoutureLab days.
Last year, she launched the Carmen Busquets Foundation, a philanthropic initiative to honour her late mother and support education and other forms of creative impact. She also debuted the Carmen Busquets Couture Prize at the Latin American Fashion Awards to celebrate the creators blending “heritage craftsmanship with innovation, slow fashion principles, sustainability and cultural significance”.
In her home, she doesn’t shy away from artworks that are politically charged. On one wall, photos by the Venezuelan-American artist Lisu Vega “show how eight million Venezuelans migrated as a result of 25 years of oppression”, she says. (She does not think that President Trump’s removal of Nicolás Maduro will solve “the complex problem of Venezuela”.) Another series consists of life-sized portraits of Native American women by artist-curator Dyani White Hawk. “More than your desire”, reads one woman’s black T-shirt.
There’s plenty of room, too, for the playful – such as her assortment of cast bronze Mini Beasts by the LA-based Haas Brothers, artist twins Simon and Nikolai. “I love them,” she says of the furry creatures that she moves from room to room. “I live in a world where everything has to be perfect,” she says of the fashion industry. “But inside we cover our little monsters.”
The master bedroom has the calm of a meditation space, where the bed itself is wrought in clear onyx – a collaboration with Adam Wasilewski of Miami- and London-based stonework specialist D-Coded International. Her roomy walk-in closet, meanwhile, is a riot of colour. The racks groan with couture and every piece has been dutifully categorised. Shoes rest in boxes with laminated labels such as “Hunting Boots” and “Stilettos”. “It needs to be as practical as I am,” she says of the space.
Fittingly, Busquets loves seeing reactions to her singular home. As if on cue, a UPS man appears in the elevator, his trolley holding a stack of large boxes. On his way back out, he pauses to look around. “This is everyone’s favourite,” he says, gesturing toward the butterflies. “That makes me happy,” she says. Her sparkling eyes show she means it.
