4 July 23-29, 2026 miaminewtimes.com | browardpalmbeach.com NEW TIMES | MUSIC | CAFE | CULTURE | NIGHT+DAY | NEWS | LETTERS | CONTENTS | miaminewtimes.com MIAMI NEW TIMES | MUSIC | CAFE | FILM | ART | STAGE | NIGHT+DAY | METRO | RIPTIDE | LETTERS | CONTENTS | t’s around 12:30 a.m. on a Wednesday, and the doors have just opened at Bacara, a new “streamer-first” nightclub on 23rd Street, west of Collins Avenue in Miami Beach. Livestreamers and their assorted entourages trickle into the venue’s dimly lit outdoor courtyard, where a Gunna track drifts from hidden speakers and mint vape smoke hangs in the muggy air. On the red carpet, an influencer known as Cuban Tarzan poses for photos alongside an older blonde woman with a dramatically aug- mented bust and a small, fluffy dog wearing a blue cowboy hat cradled in her arms. Near the entrance, a short woman in a denim jacket holds a selfie stick above her head, broadcasting live to her followers as she scans the crowd for celebrities. “Justin Bieber is in Miami — why wouldn’t he be here?” she asks no one in particular. Bieber isn’t there. But one young man has the crowd’s attention: Braden Peters, a 20-year-old from Hoboken, New Jersey, known online as “Clavicular.” On this balmy night in May, the polarizing livestreamer (who nowadays mostly goes by “Clav”) is several hours into another Kick.com livestream that has already taken him across Miami with rappers 6ix9ine and Waka Flocka Flame, former pro basketball play- ers LiAngelo Ball and Lonzo Ball, and YouTuber Jake Paul. Around 9:30 p.m., Peters played an impromptu game of basketball with fellow streamers and former athletes at a court somewhere in Miami. Later in the evening, he popped into manosphere influencer Myron Gaines’ Fresh & Fit podcast studio in downtown Miami, where he and Gaines — in line with the show’s premise — mostly attempted to humiliate the handful of young women seated around the studio, including Peters’ girlfriend, Lily Snyder. There, Peters explained how earlier in the evening he’d asked Snyder to wear something “representable” to Bacara, given there would be celebrities in attendance. He directed her to stand up and show off her outfit: a semi-transparent black lace top and mini skirt. “Are you kidding me? You’re changing,” Peters told her, shaking his head. “Disgusting.” Now, close to 1 a.m., Peters’ stream is still going at Bacara. Guiding me through the gathering is Hai Waknine, an older nightclub operator who recently partnered with Peters on Bacara. Wearing transparent-framed glasses and a di- amond chain strung with a Chai pendant (the Hebrew word for “life”), the Israeli-born Waknine introduces me to a man he describes as Peters’ manager — “a nice Jewish boy,” he says, patting him on the back. The young man, who introduces himself as Nate, is wearing a kippah, the small skullcap worn by observant Jewish men. A young, pretty brunette is hanging on his arm. Minutes later, Peters emerges through the thin crowd. A cameraman trails not too far behind, broadcasting his every move live to thousands of Kick viewers. Comments like “MOGGING” and “CORTISOL SPIKE INCOMING” stream across the feed. Waknine escorts him toward me. Fear and Looksmaxxing in Miami Inside the ascension of Clavicular. Words by Alex DeLuca Photography by Ian Witlen
