The last time I went to New Orleans, it was for this road trip and it was go go go to see, do and explore everything possible related to art and design. This time, I flew in for a long weekend to meet up with old, dear friends and our pace was meandering and slow, aimless even. We ate our biscuits outside on the courtyard, and rode rented bikes down boulevards lined with big, beautiful houses. During my last trip, I was overcome by the still-present effects of Katrina and awed by the people who rose up to rebuild the city. This time, I allowed myself to see the beauty that persists there, despite. Flowers blooming in the street, vines crawling up the sides of weather-worn houses, thick low-hanging oak branches and trunks as wide as water towers. Instead of heading to the Brad Pitt houses, we walked through cemeteries and hung out in parks. We toured a couple plantations, strolling down gargantuan oak alleys that lead up to front doors and stopping to smell grapefruit blossoms. There was time to admire door knockers and buy antique fluer de lis hooks from an eccentric lady who turned her crumbling estate into a brass fire sale. I whiled away an entire morning knitting at a coffee shop, and spent an afternoon hanging out at Rebecca Rebouche’s enchanted neighborhood studio. We ate long dinners at Bacchanal, sat outside on the flowering patio at Satsuma for hours, because it’s delightful, and well, we had nowhere else to be.
04.04.2013 | by: Meghan