I love New Orleans. I love the people and the food, I love the way you can be yourself. Want to wear glittery eye shadow and purple hair? No problem. This is very different from where I live most of the time -where someone would be blessing your heart to your face, and praying for your poor misguided soul behind your back. Here is it just a matter of choice in how you will express yourself.
A friend of mine, who owns a second home here, wants to open a glitter shop. All nature of sparkly things. She thinks it would do well here and I have to say I agree. No other city loves glitter quite so much. In my friend’s spare time, she makes glittery shoes with feathers and other doodads, which her group throws from their float during Mardi Gras. Is there another city where you could be hit by a flying heeled shoe and be grateful? They are a prized collectible. A woman in a store today was telling me that her 7 year old grand-daughter just moved here and already she wants to wear her sparkly silver shoes and could-she-maybe-some-sparkly-eye-shadow too. It must be in the air. I can’t say that being here makes me want to wear glitter eye shadow,, but I have been known to add it to a painting and my art teacher, who used to hold paint parties, told me if you bring out the glitter, women get excited. It must be in our DNA.
And then there is the food. The waitress did not look oddly at me when I ordered a full dozen char-broiled oysters at Dragos. She did bring an extra fork but I told her it would not be necessary. Iif my husband had attempted to use it, I would have stabbed his hand. There is something about the seasoning and cheese and the oysters that makes me selfish. And then there is the bread pudding – the husband and I do not attempt to share it, because I eat faster than he does and he figures he’d lose out. My favorite comes from a small restaurant – although I heard that one of the big restaurants in town has “the best” but if it is better than this, it’s probably illegal and twice the price.
I remember about 15 or so years ago, a colleague and I traveled here to make presentations to a work group. It was the first time he and I had ever been here, and he was talking Bourbon Street all the way here (making it a rather looong plane ride). We no more got the hotel and I was chasing after him, across Canal street and into the street where the bars never close and young woman show their breasts for beads. We walked several blocks and then he turned to me and said “I’m 20 years too late”. And I knew exactly what he meant. My sister observed to me the other day that if we bared our breasts more than likely young men would yell, pull down your shirt and I’ll give you the damned beads!”.
Until next time – Elsie