Like an off-centered bellybutton on the lopsided torso of American culture, New Orleans is not a wrinkle-free world of manicured youth ideology. Withered time sits upon the scarred face of this city, covered in soot and sunshine. For some parts of the country, beauty may lie in the eye of the beholder – or in the hands of the plastic surgeon – but here, it is in the eye of the beerholder. While renowned for the strip bar street of Rue Bourbon, Carnival season’s Mardi Gras, and several rowdy festivities where locals and out-of-towners celebrate bacchanalian style without inhibition or (in some cases) undergarments, New Orleans is much more than a hurricane, an oil spill, or a party zone. New Orleans is history. New Orleans is the heroic Shakespearean character. She is a lovely damsel in distress; she is a beastly horror stalking the night; she is power and pawn; she is victim and vice; she is beauty and sorrow. These many faces of La Nouvelle Orléans make her a camera-ready model, the perfect artistic subject for a still life study, an ideal target for the click/snap of photographs. For each flagstone broken unevenly beneath the footfalls of contemporary citygoers cries out its story of yesteryear, begging to be heard and waiting to be discovered. New Orleans, with its dollop of charm and dash of mystery, has lived through centuries steeped in a gumbo of violence and death, skin trades and infernos, illnesses and plagues, yet somehow the city thrives and survives, becoming a universe filled with delicate architecture, street musicians and avant-garde artists, aristocrats and cutthroats living side-by-side in the crescent looped island cupped by the clench of a river gone by. Inside the embrace of this city, life turns on an unfettered axis, where texture builds itself thick and heavy, enticing fingertips to run along the razor-edged realm of realism. The true reality of New Orleans is more than a checklist travel guide. For it is easy to namedrop iconic areas such as the Garden District’s rambling antebellum houses along St. Charles Avenue with its quaint trolley clang-clanging between car lanes, or the whitewashed walls encircling the sacred above-ground tombs of Lafayette or St. Louis Cemeteries. It’s simple to portray the slums of old Storyville where jazz was invented inside the lowdown dives and music halls along Basin Street. It’s cliché to mention the pulsating, palpitating heart of the French Quarter (a.k.a. Vieux Carré) in which Jackson Square’s landscaped pedestrian mall stands in the towering shadow of St. Louis Cathedral. And perhaps it’s without thought to note the lusty marshes overgrown with wetlands and wildlife only miles from the hubbub of downtown business. But the city shaped like a croissant is best when seen beyond the tourist trapdoor that buckles beneath unknowing knees. Inside its succulent variety of images, an enlightened visitor can see the city’s charms in the most unsettling of places – in the crumpled heap of brick and stucco of houses dilapidated, in untidy walkways that cause a stumble-fall, in the sense of the river flowing lazily around the city, and in the low hum of steamboats paddling towards the delta while clouds loop like neckties in the sky. There is beauty found where the wandering eye may fall, for New Orleans is a living, breathing artwork who succumbs to tragedy and triumph; she enfolds forces of nature and beholds the passion of lovers, and she plays both beautiful heroine and grotesque nemesis in a twisted story of misfortune and glory. She is heartbreak and heartthrob, and she will enrapture those who are daring enough to fall beneath her lovely spell.​


As opposed to a trendy style or design statement, the texture and appearance of New Orleans is like a birthright or an inheritance, not by choice but by condition. The city is an architectural relic. It is not covered in faux finish and trompe-l’œil in order to add design or to make a 200-year-old house look 200 years old. That would be like adding liver spots and wrinkles to the face of a great-great-great-grandparent. The fixer-uppers do not desire to be fixed-up. With its funky patina of New Orleans decay, the rusticity of pre-war ironwork balconies, and the hanging foliage known as “Gardens in the Sky,” photographic memories can be captured on each corner of this antiquated city. There is a poet hidden between each swirling cascade of vine and lace-like iron along the streets of Royal and Chartres. There is a melody wafting from old damask wallpapers that have witnessed the turning centuries inside each handsome home. There is a story to be told, a photo to be taken, a moment in time to be echoed from artist to artist as the city continues to inspire. Along with weathered walls, crumbling plaster, and the textural delicacy of peeling paint, iconic elements in the French Quarter – and even in other parts of the city such as the Garden District – include antebellum cast-iron and wrought iron balconies, gates, and fences so ornate and intricate they are compared to handwoven lace. The iron entanglements seem to be almost embroidered into the architecture along each street and rue, and while subtle features of fernery, baskets, and flowering vines sometimes curtain the edges of grillwork and railing, the outstanding detail of such unique and enchanting characteristics only lend to the city’s eccentricity. As early Creole builders made great use of wrought metal in French and Spanish architecture, there are numerous examples of this lacework throughout the Old City. From the handicraft fence sculpted to look like a corn field gating the Victorian-style Cornstalk Hotel to the unmistakably oxidized cast-iron gate of the Gallier House, it is the famous embellishments of lavish iron-lace galleries on the Pontalba Apartments overlooking Jackson Square that were likely the first to feature cast-iron in the city, circa 1849. But aside from these notable locations, the aesthetic eye discovers hidden gems in the details of ironwork such as tiny welded cherubs, entwined metallic grapevines and cauterized fleur-de-lis in the heraldry on broad verandas, gated porticoes, and cantilevered balconies. Although the Civil War put a stop to the flourishing golden age of cast-iron industries due to manufactures switching production from decorative uses to more utilitarian purposes, today it is honored through the restoration of ironwork that wreathes windows, sheathes pillars, and ensconces garden walls. Structures may bend and bow with the weight of time and age, but the essence of architectural expression does not fade from Île d’Orléans. Iron-railed balconies stretching above banquettes appear so frail and fine that it’s a wonder they do not shatter in hurricane winds. But the elaborate web of winding wrought elements attributes a beautiful élan of quintessential old New Orleans. As if smelted by a blacksmith, the city’s history may boil and burn from time to time, heated to a molten, hand-shaped by fire and force, and prone to rust by weather and age. The city bares all the strength of iron juxtaposed by the delicate quality of lace, both fused and fastened by design and device. At every curve there is an angle, on every smooth surface there is a splinter. New Orleans lingers in an air of both dignity and disgrace, quietly unveiling a world unlike any other.​


Death is no stranger to New Orleans. On fitful wings through the passage of time and disaster, fate has forced the city’s inhabitants to acquiesce the mortal condition of life. Such a cultural treasure does not sweep away the ashes like dust into the wind; New Orleans embraces the deceased with an unabashed display of ruined finery and mysterious methods steeped in history, heraldry, and a few ghostly haunts. As the river slides slowly in its yellowed waters around New Orleans – the Venice of America, the Paris in the swamps – unpredictable flooding causes a rising water table for the seaport city on the Mississippi’s mouth, creating a watery grave for bodies buried in the soggy soil of Louisiana. Early settlers struggled with waterlogged burial plots, shallow and sodden in the land sloping back from the river towards Lake Pontchartrain. Placing stones and bricks in and on top of the coffins, gravediggers hoped to weigh down the caskets underground, but to no avail, rainstorms filled the muddy graves and caused coffins to surface and float through the streets of town. Noxious fumes emitted by corpses caused epidemics in the Antebellum Era, disease spreading throughout the city, infecting the colonists with malaria, smallpox, and influenza. Through this grim age of plagues, hurricanes, and destructive fires, the death toll populated the underground cemeteries until the colonists eventually followed the Mediterranean custom of using above-ground vaults, building the first St. Louis Cemetery on the outskirts of original city limits. Mausoleums, tapered monumental obelisks, sculptural headstones, and burial compartments of walled vaults lining the perimeter of these above-ground cemeteries fashioned “Cities of the Dead” where the living place flowers, candles, hoodoo money, and other bric-a-brac as respect for deceased loved ones. Death may be a hidden secret buried out of sight in other cities, but New Orleans offers a constant reminder of the impermanence of life through multi-layered tombs ornamented by porticoed façades and wrought iron fences that resemble the ironwork of the French Quarter buildings. Entering the heavy gates of a cemetery in New Orleans – be it St. Louis, St. Roch, or Lafayette Cemeteries – compels a feeling of welcome and warning. The sun-bleached maze of tombs encompass souls in the tacit rest of eternal sleep, decorated in rusty ironwork of ornate crosses and etched steles carved in marble and stone. Contrasting shadows cast mystery along crumbled corners of tombs jutting into the narrow paths of beauty and ruin in these miniature cities of the deceased where thieves, brigands, and ghosts lurk. Along the stone temples and sarcophagi, funerary symbolism represent the lost souls in each tomb with anchors for hope, broken columns for a life cut short, and clasped hands for love’s power. With a seashell that shows a journey, a lion of bravery, a white rose of purity, a crown of immortality, and a cross for Christian faith and resurrection, families chose styles to be constructed and symbols to adorn the tomb, expressing feelings for the family members buried in the tomb, honoring throughout the ages. It is not morbid curiosity or a macabre sense of the horrific that keeps these cemeteries alive with interest and respectability. It is the memory of human throes, the sanctity of hallowed ground, and the aesthetic value that inspires literature and photography in a beautiful and tranquil place, full of history and death, yet somehow strangely uplifting in the reminder that life is as precious and, alas, finite.​


Before the brink of civil war on American soil, the roots of jazz music were dug into a scenic landscape called Congo Square, a grassy knoll located on the cusp of the original city limits in old New Orleans. Under Euro-American rule, enslaved Africans and mulattos were often allowed Sundays off from their work, and Congo Square became the central space to market goods, socialize, and make music for singing and dancing, paying an homage to their cultural heritage and social cohesion in spite of hardships. The thunderous beats and pulsating cadence of bamboulas (early Creole music) echoed across Congo Square to the borders of New Orleans, a city standing at the crossroads of a slave trade. The Civil War freed the soulful makers of African and Caribbean tempos, and suddenly the celestial music of America was born from these island-inspired melodies. Drums, gourds, tambourines and banzas created raw, rhythmic sounds while new techniques eventually blossomed into a style known as jazz. Between two world wars and among a great depression, jazz music became the uplifting spirit in a time of battle and loss. The laughing notes of the sly trombone, the melodic trumpet or the muted horn, the cornet, the clarinet, the contrabass, and the piano man tickling the ivories…. Instruments were made to talk, musicians improvising music and words as they played, inventing jazz from unwritten notes, playing from the heart rather than sheets of paper. As brass bands performed syncopated jazz on the stage of riverboats, all-night bars, rowdy dance halls, and vaudeville venues, eventually the hard-swinging rhythms and smoldering instrumental solos entered esteemed theatres after years of struggling against controversy and bans. While traditional jazz has many offshoots in the music world such as Zydeco, swamp pop, rhythm and blues, ragtime, swing and rock-n-roll, it is the original Dixieland jazz that was invented and perfected in New Orleans. Jazz stands at the forefront of musical culture, providing the carnival ambiance of the Crescent City where lyrical folklore accompanies the melodies of jazz improvisation. This art is a birthright in New Orleans as the cultures of Spain, France, Africa and North America shaped the music of Louisiana; it is a mating call, a ritual courtship, an instrument of communication between ethnicity, race, and society. Jazz music, in its many fashions and forms, transcends itself to each listener in different and intimate ways. It can transform the mundane of everyday life, it can harmonize with its own dissonance, and it can coordinate freedom while trusting, demanding, and illuminating. It is more than mood and atmosphere; it symbolizes democracy at its heart by carrying the reminder of resilience and affirmation in the face of adversity. When it was banned, it did not crawl behind the curtain to sink into its own inertia. When it was embraced, it did not boast itself without humility. Jazz suffers and inspires, succumbs to fads and endures its appeal. Music has life and life is music. The fire and fury of New Orleans survives in the hands and hearts of musicians who carry the legacy of jazz. It is the soundtrack to the city, the cosmopolitan cadence, the melting pot of music. Jazz is legend, lifeblood, and love. Just listen.​


There is but one New Orleans; Queen City of the Inland Sea; Gateway to the Mississippi Valley; Paris of America. She is the most wicked of cities, with a past as thick as roux simmering on a stovetop. This backward-like town built on a bed of oyster shells offers some voodoo in a good ol’ Southern night, brewing a provocative spell through the pervasive French Quarter. She enchants vampires to roam and spirits to haunt, and if a passerby is willing to probe, there are mysteries to unfold. In the same fashion that ancient mermaids lured sailors to a watery death, New Orleans sends her own siren call to those compelled by morbid curiosity. Do extreme circumstances infuse the present with entities of the past? Do the streets lurk with the undead after dark? Does the haunted history of old New Orleans possess the ghosts of those who brought ill will upon the riverbanks of the Mississippi? In the early days of colonists, among the snakes, alligators, mosquitoes, and humidity, there were thieves, murderers, and culprits of every type and cast. Yet females were rare, and in order to further the colony, young women traveled from France with their lives packed into strangely shaped portmanteaus. Suitcases, shaped like coffins, reportedly contained the undead bodies of Parisian vampires. Until married, the “coffin girls” lived as nuns in the old Ursuline Convent, stashing their coffin-like suitcases in the attic where, to this day, they allegedly remain. These coffins, still hidden away from the world, mysteriously open at night, and the vampires hunt the dark streets of the Quarter, stalking their next victims before returning to their beds at the dreaded dawn. The bloodlust of devils in the convent hide no more than two blocks away from the renowned LaLaurie Mansion, a building with such macabre history that many shy away from its details. As the story goes, Madame Delphine LaLaurie lived an aristocratic lavish lifestyle in an opulent Royal Street home during the early 1800s, a time when slavery was not outlawed but the mistreatment of slaves was illegal. One afternoon, firefighters charged the mansion to douse a small conflagration, finding a grisly torture chamber behind a locked door in the attic. Slaves were discovered chained to the walls, strapped to makeshift operating tables, and imprisoned in animal cages, half-dead, half-alive and begging for mercy. Torture and mutilation scarred their naked bodies, and when the townspeople tried to arrest Madame LaLaurie, her carriage burst through the mansion gates, disappearing into the foggy night, the notorious “Mistress of Death” never found or brought to justice. Beneath the swollen underbelly of New Orleans lies the carefully hidden spirits of its haunted past, the tales of twisted fate retold from generation to generation. The dark journey through the city’s history seems to be tearfully marked by gravestone or ghost-sighting. What may lurk in the afterlife sometimes appears to the eyes of the living, and these paranormal encounters through the streets and shadows of this spirituous swampland forever ignite the imagination. It could be the story of a fallen Civil War soldier locked in an epic postmortem battle, or perhaps the lingering souls of a Creole family who refuse to vacate their former dwelling in the hereafter, or the priest who continues to walk the cathedral’s corridor in silent prayer long after his own demise. Such are the many myths marinating in the mist off the Mississippi. In New Orleans, there is always a story, a secret, a sliver of enemies, lovers, and the unknown. So when you should find yourself in La Nouvelle Orléans, live like you mean it, sin tonight and church tomorrow, and always expect the swamp to surely rise again. Because like or leave it, this city will love you… to death!​


The spirit world encompasses New Orleanians. Spirits haunt, spirits consume, spirits flow like the mighty current of the Mississippi. But the best spirits in New Orleans manifest from more than just the imagination or the hereafter; some spirits ooze from a decanter, a carafe, a spigot, a spout or a flask. The delicious, dangerous spirits poured by a barkeep and consumed in a cocktail are intoxicating phenomena in an alternative spirit world. Nectar of the gods, zenith of man’s pleasure, and solace for the soul… alcohol has been used as an aphrodisiac and as artistic stimulation throughout the centuries. Its euphoric nature is sweet seduction from base to brim, and no alcoholic beverage is more notorious, more mysterious, more outlawed than the elusive concoction of Absinthe. Referred to as “La Fée Verte” or the Green Fairy due to its dazzling liquid of cloudy green colorization, Absinthe became a signature drink for bohemian artists, writers, and poets during turn-of-the-century Europe. Revolutions in art and literature were creating new movements among impoverished actors, unconventional musicians, and other vagabonds such as Toulouse-Lautrec, Picasso, van Gogh, Baudelaire, and Hemmingway. The drink of choice for these iconic revolutionaries was the green muse whose powerful hallucinogenic nature could ignite euphoria and inspire otherworldly ideas. Traditionally served with ice water and a cube of sugar to help take the away the bitter edge in its potent flavor, drinking Absinthe is like partaking in a divine ritual. Placing the sugar cube on a slotted spoon, water is drizzled over the sugar into the glass of Absinthe, turning the greenish liquor to a milky opalescence in an effect called “louche.” Its strong herb liqueur, distilled from flavorful herbs like anise, fennel, and wormwood, give Absinthe a predominately licorice-like taste that lingers on the palette. As the green fairy once winged her way from Paris to the New World, the port city of La Nouvelle Orléans was introduced to Absinthe by French travelers and immigrants. Suddenly the madams of Storyville, the painters such as Edgar Degas, and the writers like Oscar Wilde and Mark Twain were consumed by the Belle Époque of Absinthe. Eventually a copper-roofed establishment known as the Absinthe House opened on Rue Bourbon, filled with chandeliers, marble fountains, and captivated patrons ordering the exotic spirit and watching the mixologist drip cool water over sugar cubes from brass faucets behind the bar. While the Old Absinthe House on Bourbon Street remains a staple of life in Vieux Carré, the endurance of Absinthe ran short in its heyday. Alcoholism known as “absinthism” grew a bad reputation in both Europe and America, the drink eventually banned in 1912 as a dangerously addictive psychoactive drug. Madness and suicides accompanied the drinkers of this poison, a potent hallucinogen that reputedly drove men to murder and insanity. Absinthe has since been revived with the replacement of Herbsaint, an anise-flavored spirit that does not contain wormwood and now houses many cocktails in New Orleans restaurants. This vintage style Herbsaint, a French-Creole name for wormwood or “sacred herb,” is regarded as the spirit of a bygone era of old France in Louisiana, a spirit of New Orleans, a spirit captured in a bottle and sipped through a variety of concoctions, such as the Absinthe Suissesse, the Herbsaint Frappé, and the Sazerac. From gypsy to journalist, from artist to aristocrat, from musician to martyr, Absinthe has served the masses through inebriation and inspiration alike. The art of the drink produces a ministry for many to contribute, its history as potent as its bitters. It is the most misunderstood and mythical alcohol, and to this day it continues to raise spirits and stir up a significant amount of trouble.​


The setting is the South. The scene feels European. The characters are eccentric. From swampy bayou country to antebellum mansions, from a French Quarter balcony to the banquette in Tremé... Lights… Camera… Action! While Hollywood producers have discovered Louisiana as a colorful landscape on which to shoot feature films, New Orleans in particular has become a big star on the silver screen with a rich backdrop of exotic wetlands, historic architecture, and unique interiors for shooting locations. The city offers a vast multicultural heritage of music, festivals, and history to help set the scene for many storylines. The filmography of New Orleans dates back to the golden age of Hollywood when Bette Davis starred in Jezebel and Cecil B. DeMille filmed The Buccaneer. Great films such as A Streetcar Named Desire, King Creole, and Easy Rider have also been staged in the Big Easy as crucial plot points set in a memorable background. The images of Marlon Brando yelling to Stella in a courtyard on Elysian Fields, Elvis Presley singing “Trouble” in a French Quarter jazz club, and Peter Fonda experiencing a psychedelic acid trip in St. Louis Cemetery No. 1 are forever embedded into motion picture history. Classic cinema paved the way for modern filmmakers to utilize Louisiana for both the state’s diverse terrain and beneficial tax credits, such as filming Denzel Washington’s action thriller Déjà Vu. But the big break into the film industry occurred in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. Legendary actor Brad Pitt starred in The Curious Case of Benjamin Button while filming on Coliseum Street in the Garden District. The film boosted confidence that the city had recovered from the storm’s devastation and piqued the interest of profitable movie studios. Films such as 21 Jump Street and 12 Years as a Slave used Louisiana’s urban and rural territories as principal locations. The popular Disney film The Princess and the Frog brought to life the Quarter, the bayou, and the characters of New Orleans through music and animation. Streets in downtown New Orleans were blocked off for several months while set designers dressed the Central Business District as a post-apocalyptic setting for Dawn of the Planet of the Apes. Nowadays it is not uncommon to see popular television shows being filmed around town such as American Horror Story, The Originals, and the new series of NCIS: New Orleans. Some of the film industry’s most powerful stars have fallen in love with New Orleans and purchased lovely homes in the city, such as Sandra Bullock and John Goodman in the Garden District. Nicholas Cage once owned the self-proclaimed haunted house on Royal Street known as the LaLaurie Mansion, and no one can forget Brad Pitt tossing a beer to Matthew McConaughey from his French Quarter balcony, home to a love nest bought with his wife, actress Angelina Jolie. Interested in experiencing film locations in New Orleans? Drop by The Columns on St. Charles Avenue where Susan Sarandon’s controversial picture Pretty Baby was filmed in 1978. Visit Lafayette Cemetery No. 1 to see the above-ground tombs featured in Interview with a Vampire and Double Jeopardy. Drive out to the Felicity Plantation to see where Kate Hudson discovered hoodoo magic in The Skeleton Key. From The Maze Runner filmed in Baton Rouge to Beasts of the Southern Wild filmed in Terrebonne Parish, from Mickey Rourke in Angel Heart to Bruce Willis in RED, there is no denying that the old L.A. has transformed into the new Louisiana, and New Orleans is Hollywood South.​


From a military marching ground in the center of the city to a plot of land on the outskirts of town, New Orleans has served as a battleground since its founding three centuries ago. Fallen patriots have bled on this soil as thundering guns flashed like lightning from the gods of war. When the canon smoke cleared, American history changed forever, making New Orleans a grave marker on the face of a killing field that stretches from revolution to war. Out of the shadow of a dream, mystics and revolutionaries refashioned their world in accordance with an idealized utopia which helped shape the soul of this glorious city. As the daughter of France, New Orleans was significantly impacted by the French Revolution, which began on July 14, 1789 when revolutionaries stormed the Bastille, a medieval fortress and prison in Paris representing royal authority. Overthrowing centuries-old absolute monarchy, a feudal assault erupted in the streets of France to fight aristocracy and hierarchy by instilling citizenship and equality. After the Revolution in 1803, French military leader Napoleon Bonaparte sold the colony of New Orleans in a contract called the Louisiana Purchase, making it a part of the United States of America. The new principals of Enlightenment from France’s upheaval impacted many areas of the world, such as the former French colony of Saint-Domingue, a Caribbean island dominated by masters of sugar plantations who owned African-born slaves. A slave rebellion began in 1789, and during a decade of warfare, an immigration of Haitians fled to New Orleans. These émigrés created an important social and cultural imprint that has influenced the city’s food, architecture, religion, and music. Out of the sparks of the French Revolution, a series of Napoleonic Wars opposed every European power. Political struggle made its way across the Atlantic as the War of 1812 was declared between the United States and the British Empire whose eye was on the American economic system of trade and industrialization. Land was as valuable as gold, and the Mississippi River was the watery road that flowed from New Orleans to major port cities in the heart of America. To capture New Orleans would be to control the region’s shipments of produce from landholders, farmers and ranchers throughout the Midwest. Thanks to General Andrew Jackson and his legendary militia of pirates and privateers, the Battle of New Orleans massacred the British in a swampland bloodbath just south of the city. Half a century later, a Civil War broke out on American soil over the succession of Confederate States. New Orleans was the largest Confederate city and its capture by the Union in 1862 was a major turning point for the Civil War. The clash of blue and gray coats were bloodied in battle, but the city was spared destruction. Union forces now had control of the jewel of Mississippi, moving up the river and winning the war of freedom for the slaves. Thereafter the ownership and nationality remained intact for New Orleans, now a part of the United States and culturally-infused by its liberated history. Out of conflict came creation. Out of demolition came the reconstruction of a courageous city. Out of atrocity, a notorious civilization survived and today still thrives.​


Loving New Orleans is both a pleasure and a hardship. The city is a harsh mistress, beautiful and enchanting with romantic iron-lace balconies dripping bougainvillea and the accompaniment of jazz from a nearby bistro billowing through river-swept winds in hazy moonlight. But her wrath can be as powerful as her seduction; it is a wrath of stumble-tumble sidewalks, tire-blown potholes in the road, weak water pressure in the shower, and unbearable climate conditions. Nevertheless, the good times in New Orleans echo a little louder than in other humdrum towns, and the need for celebration, relaxation, and revelry is always at hand. This city, from the get-go, has attracted visitors from far and wide to enjoy the many venues of cuisine, cocktails and culture, and when the quiet earth trembles at the footfall of generous crowds like a thunderous storm brewing trouble in the bruised sky, New Orleanians grab a go-cup, join the second line, and carouse in the season’s festivities. While best known for Mardi Gras, New Orleans hosts a plethora of festivals, embracing the city’s passion for music, food, dancing and good drinks. Wednesday afternoons in the springtime, folks leave work early to catch the free concerts in Lafayette Square, but it doesn’t have to be a certain day or certain time of the year to find great entertainment in the Big Easy. Yes, the saints go marching on St. Patrick’s Day and St. Joseph’s Day when streets are packed with parades. And there are many festivals celebrating tradition, legends, and multicultural heritage – the Stella!-calling contest at the Tennessee Williams Literary Festival, the “Satchmo Strut” down Frenchmen Street during the Louis Armstrong Satchmo SummerFest, and the musical showcases of authentic African American culture such as Soul Fest and Essence Fest – just to name a few. But even a calm stroll down Decatur Street can easily become a foot-stomping good time when a band strikes up a tune inside a local watering hole, enticing passersby to enter and enjoy. In order to live up to the title of being Festival Capital of the World, New Orleans celebrates in a very serious manner, and of course, with a serious sense of humor. In response to the White Linen Night on Julia Street where art lovers browse galleries in white clothing to keep cool during hot, humid August, a satirical event occurs the following week on Royal Street, coined Dirty Linen Night, serving dirty martinis and dirty rice in the art galleries while people browse wearing the soiled linens from the week before. Even charity work becomes a part of the city’s raison d’être when people (women and men) wear outlandish red dresses and raise money for worthy causes in the Red Dress Run, known as the “drinking club with a running problem.” Like a pre-party for the “Big Daddy” of festivals, French Quarter Fest precedes the New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival, housing outdoor concerts, art exhibits, local food delicacies, and drinks aplenty. The city thrives on its ability to host unusual, culture-filled, anything-goes parties, be it day or night, indoor arenas or outdoor fairgrounds, rain or shine, hard times or otherwise. Bacchanalian tradition has become the motto of New Orleans where people love to eat, drink, and be merry. The gray streets of other cities may only see the traffic of busy everyday life, but the streets of La Nouvelle Orléans delight in festivity when the people mask, when the parades roll, when the pretty Mardi Gras Indians walk proud, when the delivery guy arrives on bicycle with a hot po’boy in hand, when the local bar band starts playing Iko Iko… because this is New Orleans, city of dreams, so let the good times roll.​


Vieux Carré, an impossible beauty with style and panache, is like a woman. She is seductive, voluptuous, and vulnerable, and for more than three hundred years, a vibrant history of resilience and elegance has crafted the quintessential great mistress of the South. As a repository of cultures reigning from African and Native Americans to the French and Spanish known as Creoles, the French Quarter and her surrounding neighborhoods thrive on a heartbeat from many walks of life. The rhythms on these streets capture and enlighten the diverse nature of history and heritage in the original site of New Orleans. After a swampland beside a winding river was claimed for the French in the 1690s, a new colony developed to serve as a main highway for trade in the New World. As a city was laid out in 1721, the gridline streets remained French until 1763 when the colony was sold to Spain. Disaster struck at the end of that century when two ruinous fires destroyed the early French structures of colonial New Orleans. Under Spanish rule and new building codes, the city was rebuilt with flat tile roofs, stuccoed masonry walls, and florid ironwork, creating what is recognizable today as the Vieux Carré. In 1803, New Orleans was sold to the United States as part of the Louisiana Purchase, a transaction that took place in the Cabildo’s Sala Capitular. Suddenly the town was filled with newcomers, rough-and-tumble Americans who were not welcomed by the Creoles and original inhabitants. A divisional highway named Canal Street was built between the Old City and the new American Sector, and soon the city branched out into new neighborhoods where the old “Rues” changed to “Streets” with different Americanized names. Turn-of-the-nineteenth-century New Orleans held tension between two cultures living different lifestyles, mannerisms, and values, and Canal Street stood as a median between the two worlds. This middle stretch of the street became known as “neutral ground,” for it was only here on this neutralized spot where the two cultures could meet between sections of the city to do business without conflict. Nowadays, the public transportation of streetcar systems runs up and down the neutral ground, waxing sentimental. At times, it seems the whole city has a sense of humor out its disorderly past. Ironically, where the Spanish architecture reigns is known as French quarters, and where Americans built up the outer city has a twisted sense of direction not by compass but by waterway, i.e. Upriver, Downriver, Riverside, and Lakeside. Across the meandering river that cuts the city into two banks, the East Bank sits geographically west and the West Bank is due south, and therefore the terminology and boundaries of New Orleans can be confusing, challenging, and historically significant. With confusion comes the charm and character of a city all the more endearing. She is the motherland of jazz, the daughter of France, the grand belle of the Old South, and the queen jewel on the Mississippi. She has passed through the hands of many masters, proudly displaying her history in a thriving lifestyle of beautiful architecture, legendary artistic inspiration, and unique locales that carry on her traditions. New Orleans stands as a southern anchor to the past, and whatever tribulations may face her future, the mystery and muse of Île d’Orléans will always persevere with spitfire-faith and latitude of attitude.​






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