Posts Tagged ‘NOLA’

Harrah’s held the 1st annual festival for Burlesque in NOLA’s history, though we’ve been building up to it for some time, with Bustout Burlesque having gotten a huge following in the city. I’m still recovering from a really nasty bout of post-vacation ickiness, but we did manage to get out to the big Burlesque Queen contest.

If you haven’t seen any of the revival burlesque (and you have a sense of humor about the whole thing) you really should go. Ladies of varying sizes and loads of chutzpah shimming and shaking to va-va-va-voom beats is just too fun.

These were the more demure outfits when they were coming out and awaiting the winner’s announcement:

In the end, it was NOLA’s own Black Pearl who took the crown, and with good reason. She channels Josephine Baker’s wild energy so well:
(fyi- I cut it before it gets too racy- totally PG-13 link)

Next year, there’ll be no creeping crud and we’ll definitely have to check out more of the fest!

When we went to see the fireworks, it was still in the 90s, and if you’d asked if I wanted to drag a tripod along I probably would have brained you with the thing. There was no way.

So, naturally, I ended up with more crappy photos of fireworks than good ones, but a few of them were kind of interesting, like this one.

Maybe this is some sort of bizarre Rorschach test, but I looked at this and thought, “Look, it’s sperm! Travelling up to the uterus, then swimming the wrong way with the egg floating above and behind!”

Okay, so maybe I’m glad no shrink’s going to analyze that one.

Alison’s had her friend Cathy down to visit for the last two weeks, and it’s been a study in contrasts.

Cathy’s a great kid, smart, funny, a little shy, and gorgeous to boot- but she’s definitely a Yankee. And I say this as a fellow Yankee who’s gotten herself into faux pas territory more than once. Intellectually, I knew they were like different species, but hadn’t given it much thought- until I had Alison, Olivia and Cathy all side by side. Every one a fantastic young woman, but wow- so different.

They still had a good time, schlepping all over the city in this miserable heat (which Cathy swore she loved because all they’ve had up north for months is chilly drizzle), even getting up to Baton Rouge for an LSU visit and out the Mississippi coast for a night.

The 4th was the night before she left, and we headed down to dinner at the Palace and the fireworks. Cathy’s a pretty brave eater, and she gamely tried every strange fried thing Alison put on her plate, loving pretty much all of it.

Other than cheesesteaks, there’s no native cuisine where she is, so it might be a little cultureshock when she gets back- although she did insist on a Crabby Jack’s stop to bring a couple of poboys home, though it wasn’t clear to me whether she intends to share with her parents or sneak them in to keep for herself.

And then it was off to the river to catch the fireworks, which usually I dread because of the crowds. For 4th of July we’ve got Essence Fest, for New Year’s fireworks we’ve got the Sugar Bowl, both of which make it ungodly crowded and unnavigable. I don’t know whether it was the concept of dealing with crowds in the heat or the economy keeping numbers of Fest goers down, it was surprisingly thin and nice down by the breezes of the Mississippi.

Then it was time for final fireworks of a different sort. The girls wanted to have a little grownup time, unsupervised on Bourbon Street. After Charlie reminded me that she’s got to learn to do these things, we bought them each one fruity drink of their choosing to take on their way, made them promise not to accept/attempt to buy any others, and set them loose, as long as they stayed directly on the police-heavy Bourbon Street and didn’t go wandering. And made sure they had cab money. And the cab’s phone number in their cell phones. And text me once an hour.

Okay, so it wasn’t exactly ‘setting them loose.’ How about ‘loose with training wheels and an airbag?’

We missed the parade because of Prom, but were there for the big afterparty and had a very good time quaffing and suchlike.

Love this…the required proper attire is clearly a relative thing.

Lots of bemused tourists were Aaarrrghed at, and I proved something I long assumed- no matter how fierce your outfit (or, okay, costume), it is impossible to look tough holding a bright red Hurricane or lime green Hand Grenade.
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Quarter Fest was massive this year- or so I hear. We didn’t go, despite being all set to. Friday ended up being a busy workday, and Saturday followed suit.

Sunday I went down to the Quarter with Beth who’d come back to NOLA for the Fest. She’d worn herself out the day before with the crowds (not to mention badly chosen footwear- it makes allll the difference on those cobblestones), so we had beignets and wandered around for a few hours before heading back Uptown for a lazy afternoon of drinking and eating etouffee in the sun.

All in all it was an excellent tradeoff.

The below is notable only because it’s the only photo taken in the French Quarter on Sunday that doesn’t involve a mob of people, plus there’s a hibiscus, so that works out well.

We thought we were going to miss all the goings on in the French Quarter this year, but as we returned from Bywater, we passed by the gay parade lining up and having a wonderful time, so naturally we had to stop and join the party for a little bit.

The morning parade is more of your standard idea of an Easter parade- big hats, lots of pastels, and because it’s New Orleans, beads.

The afternoon parade- this one- is rowdy and raucus, full of attitude, short on throws, but that’s just fine. There are Drag Queens by the score, leather guys, supportive local businesses and parents, and who knows who else.

Several bemused tourists wandered by, wondering what on earth was going on. Locals honked and cheered as they drove by on Rampart Street. A parade member, a guy on a decorated Segway (remember those?) berated a somewhat uncomfortable cop on a motorcyle: “That’s because you’re just a mean old white man, that’s all!” The ever-increasingly uncomfortable cop was quite young, and the berater was also white, so I have no idea what that might’ve been about, but in the spirit of the day, everything was let slide.

If you missed it, you missed quite the time, but there’s always the slideshow after the jump.

And so concludes Easter ’08!
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We’d been alerted to a new parading group here in the city by our good friend Beth, who is still in exile and gets totally, completely excited about such things. In her honor, we knew we just had to go!

They paraded down and took their name from St. Claude, which used to be called GoodChildren (Bons Enfants).

Luckily they were running late, because their first year was not quite as big a parade as we’re used to in the city, but that’s okay- about a hundred or so enthusiastic folks went on by, clearly having a wonderful time.

But that’s how these things go… by next year, word will have gotten around and it’ll be twice as big- by the 3rd year, it’ll be a vast bohemian expanse.

And just think, we’ll be able to say, “You should’ve been there when they started…”

Slideshow after the jump.
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When I saw this one, I knew it had to go in the Collection. It’s so bizarre…

The breasts look like pimples that need popping or something. Turned upside down it almost makes more sense- they look like excited eyes, maybe.

Click to see the offense- marginally NSFW
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