Yachts drift by on a shimmering stretch of Biscayne Bay, hemmed in by the mainland and Virginia Key. The sun breaks each dawn over the water with the saturation of an oil painting.

That’s the view from Cynthia Muniz’s home on the eighth floor of her Brickell Key condominium — an elongated, 300-unit complex whose jaundiced walls stretch eastward, right up to the water’s edge.

It was paradise. Now, it’s more of a golden cage.

“You bought yourself a nightmare,” she mumbled, her eyes tracing the interior walls of her condo.

For a year, Muniz has struggled to sell the place. When she listed it for the first time last summer, she figured $390,000 was a fair asking price for 674 square feet in one of Miami-Dade’s most expensive zip codes, plus a bay vista.

But mounting maintenance fees and suffocating special assessments — neither of which she expects to ease anytime soon — have Muniz feeling that her home of two decades has become a bottomless money pit. She can hardly afford to keep living there.

Buyers have taken notice. The unit’s new price tag: $300,000 — 25% less than what Muniz had first asked for it.

Aerial view of Brickell, Brickell Key and downtown Miami on Friday, July 18, 2025


 

More condo owners, especially those in older, ill-maintained buildings in South Florida, are finding themselves in similar predicaments. They’re caught between the closing walls of increasingly unaffordable ownership costs and a wary market, wherein to sell quickly they’d need to do so at a steep loss. The conditions have set the stage for a deepened affordability crisis that the Federal Reserve Bank of Atlanta warns could undermine South Florida’s economy.

Condominiums have long made up a major portion of local affordable housing, said Florida International University Metropolitan Center associate director and affordable housing expert Ned Murray. But that reality was upended in the early hours of June 24, 2021, when Surfside’s Champlain Towers South building collapsed, killing 98 people. It remains one of the deadliest structural engineering failures in U.S. history.

And it changed everything related to building construction and maintenance, said condo market analyst Peter Zalewski. He described the Champlain Towers failure as “this generation’s Hurricane Andrew,” invoking the infamously deadly 1992 hurricane that led to a revamp of Florida building codes.

Within a year of the building’s fall, the Florida Legislature responded with a new law. It stipulated that all 30-year-old condo buildings — or 25-year-old structures, if they’re within 5 miles of the coast — with three or more stories complete safety inspections and structural integrity reserve studies — estimates of how much they’d need to save to pay for future critical repairs — by the end of 2024.

The legislation occasioned a sea change in how condo associations financially and structurally maintain their buildings. Owners had a little over two and a half years to prepare to make up for years or decades of reserve savings and critical structural repairs that many associations had deferred.

They quickly felt the impact. Maintenance fees climbed alongside insurance rates, which often accompanied five- or six-figure special assessments. Those costs have financially overwhelmed some owners, threatening the housing affordability and long-term equity that made the present feel stable and the future feel predictable.


The FIU Metropolitan Center estimates that median homeowners association fees for condos in Miami-Dade have increased more than 70% since 2016. Between the first halves of 2022 and 2025 alone, association fees for condos with at least three stories increased by 42%, according to the Center. Muniz can relate. She says her maintenance fees have risen to $1,300 a month — more than double what she reports having paid in the years preceding the Champlain collapse.

On top of that, she’s paying nearly $300 a month as part of a 10-year payment plan on a $45,000 special assessment to redo the building’s pool deck, garage and more.

Her total monthly building costs are now $1,600 and, she fears, rising. And that’s in addition to her $1,300 monthly mortgage.

“I’m on the borderline,” Muniz said of her ability to afford to keep living in her condo. “It’s not quality of life for me to put all my earnings into four walls of concrete.”

Muniz, a pharmaceutical sales representative, wouldn’t think of retiring while still financially on the hook for her condo. She said she can’t sell it soon enough.

“It’ll be a huge weight off my shoulders,” she predicted of any future sale, her eyes tearing up at the thought. “I won’t have that worry I take to sleep every night.”

When that will be is anyone’s guess.

Showings come and go. Offers, however, remain elusive, and Muniz feels “discouraged” with each passing week her condo languishes on the market.

Rising costs for South Florida condo owners

Muniz’s struggle is increasingly common but not universal.

“It’s a tale of two markets,” said market analyst Ana Bozovic. “There’s a big performance divide between older product and newer product.”

And most of the local “product” — meaning condo units — is older. University of Florida’s Warrington College of Business estimates that, as of 2023, three-quarters of South Florida condos — in Miami-Dade, Broward or Palm Beach counties — were built in or before 1993.

Not all old buildings are in terrible shape, stressed Bozovic. But units in older buildings with recent or impending inspections, onerous assessments and mounting maintenance fees might be harder to sell, barring price reductions. They’re also less attractive to many of the high-earning out-of-staters, who tend to favor newer buildings, Bozovic said.

As ownership costs have risen, so too has the number of condos up for sale. In June, Miami-Dade’s condo inventory — the number of condos for sale — increased 36% year-over-year, according to a recent Miami Association of Realtors report. That translates to roughly 14 months of inventory — an estimate of how long it would take to sell all available units at the current sales pace — making it a buyer’s market. A balanced market has six to nine months of inventory, noted the Association.

Some older units do sell quickly, said David Dajani, Muniz’s real estate agent — but often after owners absorb price cuts or pay off their special assessments. Even still, he added, many buyers are wary of growing maintenance fees.

As a result, the market is generally slow right now, said Zach Joslin, co-founder of the Brissi Group at BHHS EWM Realty. “There’s still a lot of demand in Miami,” he added, but he’s expecting a big adjustment in pricing for older condos.

So is Zalewski, the condo market analyst. He predicts a 40% reduction in condo prices relative to COVID-19-era highs. It could happen at any time, he says. It just takes enough sellers offloading their units at lower-than-market prices for buyers and appraisers to adjust their expectations.

But the state’s first post-Surfside condo law is already eroding some property values and will only continue to do so, said Murray. “Human safety always has to be at the forefront,” but the law required “much more deliberation relative to its effect on the market, on those who own and live here.”

Legislators seemed to recognize as much earlier this year, when they passed another bill to ease affordability concerns. Per the new law, condo associations can take out lines of credit to fund reserves. And if they’re making repairs deemed structurally necessary, they can pause mandatory reserve contributions for two years. Another recent law provides condo associations up to $175,000 to reinforce their buildings and comply with new safety laws.

But, added Murray, “much of the damage had already been done” by the first piece of legislation. “We’re seeing it play out in the market” through the devaluation of condos like Muniz’s, he said.

Or Luisa’s.

In 2022, Luisa, then 27, had saved up enough to make a down payment on a condo in Morningside, valued at $353,000. A first-generation American, Luisa was the first in her family to own a home. She asked the Herald to use only her middle name because she is still embarrassed about what ended up being a costly financial decision.

“Everyone always tells you, the American dream is owning your own home,” she remarked.

Luisa recalled feeling “very proud and emotional” to close on her one-bedroom condo, a feat that made her feel she had achieved “what my mom had sacrificed so much for.”

But within months of closing came the building’s 50-year inspection. Luisa, a nonprofit director making just over $100,000 a year, found herself stuck with an $8,000 assessment to be paid over the course of three months. A year later, she was on the hook for a separate $25,000 assessment.

Meanwhile, her mortgage and maintenance fees swelled — eventually to the point of unsustainability. When she moved into her place, Luisa’s mortgage was $1,800 a month and maintenance was $530. Within two years, she was paying the bank $2,700 each month, plus nearly $1,000 to her condo association — a nearly 60% increase in total housing expenditures.

Property tax hikes explained some of those costs, but a good deal of them came from increases in insurance premiums — both her individual unit’s plan, as well as the building’s, Luisa explained.

Zalewski, the market analyst, estimates that insurance costs make up roughly 25% of condo association fees.

And premiums have gone up considerably since the Champlain collapse. Compiling data from the Florida Office of Insurance Regulation, the Metropolitan Center found that, for condo associations in Miami-Dade, commercial multi-peril premiums — insurance paid for by condo associations to cover physical damage and liability — cost, on average, $175,000 at the start of 2021. By the end of 2024, that average had jumped to $462,000 — a 164% increase.

Banks also typically require individual owners to take out homeowners insurance policies in order to qualify for mortgages. Those premium averages climbed from $1,600 to nearly $2,300 over the same period, a 44% rise.

It all became too much for Luisa. She moved into an apartment and tried to rent out the condo to cover the mortgage but had to pay double rent for almost three tenantless months.

As the costs piled up, she decided to sell, listing the unit for just over $400,000. No bites. Only after she knocked nearly $60,000 off the initial asking price was Luisa able to sell — for $7,000 less than what she had paid two years earlier.

“I cried at the real estate attorney’s office. I was so sad,” she recalled of the day she turned in her keys. Luisa estimates the whole ordeal left a $50,000 hole in her savings.

“When I think of a future, unless it’s with someone, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to own a home,” she speculated. “I’m just not on track to be able to save enough” to both purchase a home and put aside money for emergencies, retirement and children, she said.

Financially stressed owners debate: stay or go?

While Muniz and Luisa took their chances on the open market, Bill Sarille is holding out in hopes of an investor buyout of his Miami Beach condo building.

A former personal trainer, Sarille, 68, explained that a spinal condition forced him into retirement during the COVID-19 pandemic.

“I’m probably gonna be in a wheelchair. I hate to say it,” he lamented, eyeing a pristinely maintained road bike that now sits unused in the corner of his living room.

Sarille lives on a fixed income — roughly $1,100 a month, from Social Security and food stamps, plus a bit extra from dividends on investments. His home of nearly 30 years — a studio apartment on South Beach’s West Avenue — has drained the money he had saved before retirement, roughly $50,000. Replacing an air conditioner, paying for various minor special assessments, and coping with rising maintenance and insurance fees has bled his savings dry.

And his building is now expecting a multimillion-dollar special assessment, for which Sarille says he’d potentially have to contribute up to $80,000 over 10 years — money he doesn’t have. He’s hoping to qualify for a Miami-Dade County loan program, but access to those limited funds is far from guaranteed.

The county estimates that by the end of July, it will have given out more than 1,500 loans totaling more than $40 million. An additional 500 loans — worth roughly $15 million — are in the pipeline. The county told the Herald it will pause new applications beginning Aug. 5 while it works to improve the system. Miami-Dade intends to relaunch it in early 2026, though a specific date has yet to be announced.

Just up the road from Sarille, the owners at 1250 West Ave. voted to sell their building to JDS Development Group, which plans to demolish the complex and build a luxury condo in its place. Sarille hopes to receive a similar deal.

And from whisperings around his building, Sarille figures a developer buyout of the bayside building could pay far more than the $250,000 he figures he could get for his unit on the open market. That extra money would give his retirement fund some much-needed padding.

“I want to be secure in this retirement,” Sarille said. “I worked all my life for this.”

But while a buyout would be a boon for Sarille, its impact on the affordable housing market and the local economy more generally is less than rosy.

A Herald/Times investigation found that the ballooning ownership costs and harried sales that have accompanied the post-Surfside law helped developers buy out older buildings. The Federal Reserve Bank of Atlanta, whose jurisdiction extends to Florida, noted this month that those investors might tear down purchased buildings and construct in their place “mixed-use [structures] or more expensive housing.”

That, said the Atlanta Fed, would further aggravate local affordability concerns, potentially driving families to leave, which would in turn affect “labor markets, business growth, and the overall longer-term competitiveness of [South Florida].”

The region — and the state — are already grappling with that trend. More than 130,000 residents left Miami-Dade in the three years after 2020, according to FIU’s Metropolitan Center. Statewide, the Florida Chamber of Commerce noted in its 2024 Migration Trends Report that more than a half-million people left the Sunshine State in 2023, the largest number ever for Florida, which that year had the highest gross out-migration of any state except California.

As soon as she’s able to sell, Muniz, the Brickell Key condo owner, intends to join their ranks.

“Texas,” she mused. A friend of hers recently ditched the Sunshine State for the Lone Star State. Another 50,000 Floridians did the same in 2023, according to data from the U.S. Census Bureau. “Daily living is inexpensive there,” Muniz reflected. “And Florida is getting extremely expensive.”