...is officially over, but with St. Patrick's Day parades on the Saturday after Mardi Gras (and more of 'em today on the actual saint's day), PLUS the St. Joseph's day celebrations starting tomorrow and parades and altars this weekend -- well, it's just too much. A late Mardi Gras can be terrific, especially in terms of weather, but having Mardi Gras Day and St. Pat's parades in the *same week* is overwhelming.
It was indeed a beautiful, exciting, warm, luscious, mad whirl of Carnival. There were only 2 days when it was sort of cool, and only one day of rain. Mardi Gras Day threatened rain, but didn't deliver til the parades and festivities were all done -- how considerate!
The most lovely and artistic krewes were of course the old-line traditional, with special recognition going to Hermes and especially Proteus (good on ya, Royal Artists!) The satirical krewes of Chaos, Muses, and d'Etat (and to a certain extent Thoth, with their slain boef gras upside down with its hooves in the air!) did great jobs, and were sharp and funny. But I have to say that having so many thought-and-speech balloons is really distracting and off-putting. When you think back to the very first satiric parade, Comus, in the 1800s, they did not need captions for folks to get the joke and their floats were quite beautiful despite their "bite." And that in an age when images were not nearly as ubiquitous as they are now. I wish the satiric krewes would cut back on the words and give us more images.
The so-called super krewes, Bacchus and Endymion, OK, and just that. You'd think with the extra expanse of square footage, the krewes could be more creative, but whether for monetary reasons or lack of imagination, it just didn't happen. They plunk an expensive headpiece or figure on the front, another on the back, and in the middle a whole lotta nothin'. It's sad and disappointing.
Speaking of disappointing, Orpheus was a bust this year. When I think back to the floats of Orpheus in 2005, with the theme of "The Dance of the Hours," and how the floats were so completely lovely and elegant, they actually brought *tears* to my eyes, I feel let down by this year's Orpheus floats. Yes, there were some nice figures and great lighting, especially on the fronts, but along the sides they just slapped on giant flowers or flower-like crystal shapes, or flower-like explosion shapes. C'mon! That's just plain LAZY! (However, Orpheus does get props for great cups this year.)
Special shout-out to the rental krewes who all (with the normal exception of Zulu) seemed to make an extra effort and paid for front figures on generic and slightly less cheesy rental floats this year. Nice job, y'all! (Zulu does not need to make that expense, as nobody goes to Zulu to look at floats.)
We all look forward to watching the second season of "Tremé" on HBO, as we watched the crew and principal actors filming a Mardi Gras episode right across the street from our favored parade spot during Muses. Melissa Leo and the young actress who plays her daughter looked like they were having a great time.
Big Man played in bands in several parades this year, ending with Rex on Mardi Gras Day -- a BIG honor my father would've been so proud of! (Rex was pretty this year, nice theme celebrating everything England in "This Sceptered Isle.") On our way back to the parade route, after dropping off Big Man at the start of Rex, my son and I were delighted to run across the Wild Magnolia Mardi Gras Indian tribe coming through the Calliope, wind blowing their feathers. We rolled down the windows and hollered "Pretty-pretty!" to them in tribute.
All in all, this year's Mardi Gras Day crowds were heavy, and friendly, and lots and lots of people put some effort into their costumes and outfits. A lot of walking (my bad ankle required special babying on Ash Wednesday!), a lot of parade food eating, and a lot of eating. A lot of curbside booty-shaking, a lot of laughing, a lot of gossiping. It was tremendous fun, and thank God it's over.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Jefferson Variety
There are just a few small things I needed to do to finish my costume, which I will wear for both MOMs and Mardi Gras day, and so on our day off together, Big Man and I headed after brunch to Jefferson Variety on Iris Street in Jefferson just off River Road. This is a complete Carnival store, which, while not nearly as fancy as Plush Appeal in Mid-City (2811 Toulouse St. just off Carrollton), has a very good selection of Carnival fabrics and trims, including plumes and feathers and beads for sewing onto costumes (they also carry beads for throwing, but they were VERY picked over by this time, as was the selection of plush animals, not nearly as extensive as Plush Appeal).
While there, we had to tour the whole store, and we found some small second-line type umbrellas, undecorated, for less than $2 a piece. I still think that would be a good fundraiser for the church, but I'd need to organize folks to do the decorating. I think we could charge around $25 for the finished parasols, and the decorating could be fun. Hmm. Will have to think more about it.
When we entered the back room, where the fabric and costume accessories and trims are kept,we found an actual line of people waiting to be served. Yikes! And because most of the people in line were still deliberating over details of their costumes, each person took longer than you would have wanted. But in typical New Orleans style, everyone conversed and gathered opinions from everyone else. "Do you like this stretch sequin trim, or this mirrored braid better?" "Does this color go with print?" (The answer to that is always YES, but only at Carnival.) "Do you think I need a hat with this, or is a headband like this OK?" and so on.
Big Man took special interest in the two husky back men dressed in work clothes (one in a construction vest and the other in a mechanic's overalls) who were perusing colored brocades and satins with careful deliberation. One even got on his phone to describe a certain pattern to the listener on the other end. When they got into the line to wait for service, they were heard discussing exactly how many pounds of feathers they would need. I assumed they were Mardi Gras Indians, but I thought it awfully late for them to be finishing up their shopping to complete their "suits" for Carnival Day. Big Man was fascinated and commented later that only in New Orleans would such obviously masculine black men be so concerned with things like rhinestones, sequins, and pounds of dyed ostrich feathers.
I got a purple satin mask, the eyeholes of which I'll have to carefully enlarge, 2 yards of hot pink sequin trim, and two large beautiful hot pink ostrich feathers. This will complete my costume (more on that later, don't want to spill the beans too early), and two large plastic Mardi Gras mask house decorations to add to the lights, fabric drape, toy display, and wreath decorating the front of our house. (Interestingly, in the week that the decorations have been up, not a single thing, not a frisbee or a football, has disappeared. I'm almost disappointed, as I have back-ups that I was going to put out as soon as these got picked up. I may have to resort to actually giving them away, or putting them all into the box for our grandson.)
That was an enjoyable trip for both of us, and I only spent about $20. Now, all I have to do is make the time to work on the mask and my headpiece.
While there, we had to tour the whole store, and we found some small second-line type umbrellas, undecorated, for less than $2 a piece. I still think that would be a good fundraiser for the church, but I'd need to organize folks to do the decorating. I think we could charge around $25 for the finished parasols, and the decorating could be fun. Hmm. Will have to think more about it.
When we entered the back room, where the fabric and costume accessories and trims are kept,we found an actual line of people waiting to be served. Yikes! And because most of the people in line were still deliberating over details of their costumes, each person took longer than you would have wanted. But in typical New Orleans style, everyone conversed and gathered opinions from everyone else. "Do you like this stretch sequin trim, or this mirrored braid better?" "Does this color go with print?" (The answer to that is always YES, but only at Carnival.) "Do you think I need a hat with this, or is a headband like this OK?" and so on.
Big Man took special interest in the two husky back men dressed in work clothes (one in a construction vest and the other in a mechanic's overalls) who were perusing colored brocades and satins with careful deliberation. One even got on his phone to describe a certain pattern to the listener on the other end. When they got into the line to wait for service, they were heard discussing exactly how many pounds of feathers they would need. I assumed they were Mardi Gras Indians, but I thought it awfully late for them to be finishing up their shopping to complete their "suits" for Carnival Day. Big Man was fascinated and commented later that only in New Orleans would such obviously masculine black men be so concerned with things like rhinestones, sequins, and pounds of dyed ostrich feathers.
I got a purple satin mask, the eyeholes of which I'll have to carefully enlarge, 2 yards of hot pink sequin trim, and two large beautiful hot pink ostrich feathers. This will complete my costume (more on that later, don't want to spill the beans too early), and two large plastic Mardi Gras mask house decorations to add to the lights, fabric drape, toy display, and wreath decorating the front of our house. (Interestingly, in the week that the decorations have been up, not a single thing, not a frisbee or a football, has disappeared. I'm almost disappointed, as I have back-ups that I was going to put out as soon as these got picked up. I may have to resort to actually giving them away, or putting them all into the box for our grandson.)
That was an enjoyable trip for both of us, and I only spent about $20. Now, all I have to do is make the time to work on the mask and my headpiece.
First Parade Weekend
Well, last weekend was the first real parade weekend of the 2011 Carnival Season. (Readers know that while I love Krewe du Vieux, I do not consider it a "real" parade. However, I do agree with the general feeling that so-called Mardi Gras expert Arthur Hardy ought to be including KDV and Barkus to his vaunted Mardi Gras Guide. Marching groups are part of Mardi Gras too.)
The kick-off parade is Oshun on Friday. It is our tradition to start off with raw oysters at Pascal's before the parade, and so a group of us converged there about 5:15 pm. Thomas, who has been touted far and wide as "the best oyster shucker in the city" was on hand to do the honors. His title is well-deserved, and we complained that his press clippings and Internet raves were not framed behind him at the oyster bar. He modestly said it wasn't his place to promote himself, but L was insistent (and she can be both insistent and persuasive). In fact, she cornered the restaurant manager and asked about it, and he assured us that if we brought in the framed clipping, he would hang it. (L promptly assigned the research and the framing to me. After Carnival, of course.)
It was amazing how short a time it takes for Thomas to shuck 36 oysters, and perhaps just as amazing how short a time it took us to scarf them down. Showering Thomas with praise and our usual extravagant tip, we left, promising to come back for another parade. (We also ascertained that Pascal's would be open for Bacchus Sunday, though they are dark on normal Sundays.)
We gathered on the neutral ground side of Napoleon, roughly between Pitt and Prytania. The weather was great -- warm with just a light breeze. Oshun was really pretty, with a rental float theme of "The Best of Broadway," but we noticed a new trend: generic rental floats decorated just in the front with a large figure or emblem to illustrate the theme. What a great improvement! As the weekend wore on, it turned out to be a real trend with other krewes too poor to own their own floats. We totally approve. The male and female riders were generous, but unfortunately I did not catch a cup. (Can't wait for my son to arrive, that champion cup catcher!)
Saturday had three parades, and started with Pontchartrain at 2 pm in the afternoon (an unusually late start, for whatever reason), which Big Man and I caught on St. Charles in our neighborhood, which allowed Big Man to get some studio work done beforehand. We enjoyed the krewe's appropriate Big Fish emblem, and their theme was cute too. "Can You Name That Ball?" which translated into floats whose title signs were mostly blank, so that the crowd had to figure it out for themselves -- a Carnival first, I think. A float with an oil rig on it depicted "T-a-r B-a-l-l-s;" one with a big redhead on the front was "L-u-c-i-l-l-e B-a-l-l" and so on, with meatballs, football and beach balls, among the others shown. Very clever. We caught a lot of stuff, but alas, none of the little plush fish for our grandson R in Jersey, who gets a well-stuffed post-Carnival box every year.
There were two evening parades Saturday, Sparta and Pygmalion. These I caught at our family crowd's usual parade spot on a Napoleon corner in front of a local agency that trains developmentally disabled adults. This is a very good parade spot, and riders are generally liberal with throws here, and bands almost always begin to play at or near here. (Which is why I'm being circumspect about its exact location. Sorry.) It's also mere blocks away from the lovely little house of L's friend D, who holds an annual party on the first Saturday.
Sparta's theme was another rental-type: "I Write the Songs." Once again, the floats were pretty generic, but decorated just enough in the front to illustrate the singers and songs for each float. We do love this trend -- it makes the "lesser" parades way more enjoyable. They were followed by Pygmalion, whose theme was, naturally, "It's All Greek to Me" which gave the opportunity to tip their hats to several Carnival organizations, since so many are named for Greek mythology. (I have to say, though, in loving critique, that the float for Sparta has to step up the game, as that was the ugliest Aphrodite I had ever seen. And no bosom either.)
The party at D's sweet house, with its shiny polished cement floors, its French doors out to the front courtyard (lined with ice chests full of booze), and its two en suite bathrooms, was absolutely packed with revelers, and you had to squeeze past people to get to the food on the dining room table, the wine on the kitchen counter, or one of the two bathrooms. The crowd included lots of folks who are in or who attend the infamous MOMs Ball, not to mention this year's king Fred, who was loudly hailed by the crowd on his arrival from the parade route. Conversations centered on costumes, on who still needed MOMs tickets (such folks are mostly out of luck by now), on how would future MOMs be without the Rads, and on plans for upcoming parades. As we departed for the longish walk back to L's house, we all agreed to meet back at Pascal's for more succulent salty raw oysters for Druids on Wednesday.
More later as Carnival rolls on....
The kick-off parade is Oshun on Friday. It is our tradition to start off with raw oysters at Pascal's before the parade, and so a group of us converged there about 5:15 pm. Thomas, who has been touted far and wide as "the best oyster shucker in the city" was on hand to do the honors. His title is well-deserved, and we complained that his press clippings and Internet raves were not framed behind him at the oyster bar. He modestly said it wasn't his place to promote himself, but L was insistent (and she can be both insistent and persuasive). In fact, she cornered the restaurant manager and asked about it, and he assured us that if we brought in the framed clipping, he would hang it. (L promptly assigned the research and the framing to me. After Carnival, of course.)
It was amazing how short a time it takes for Thomas to shuck 36 oysters, and perhaps just as amazing how short a time it took us to scarf them down. Showering Thomas with praise and our usual extravagant tip, we left, promising to come back for another parade. (We also ascertained that Pascal's would be open for Bacchus Sunday, though they are dark on normal Sundays.)
We gathered on the neutral ground side of Napoleon, roughly between Pitt and Prytania. The weather was great -- warm with just a light breeze. Oshun was really pretty, with a rental float theme of "The Best of Broadway," but we noticed a new trend: generic rental floats decorated just in the front with a large figure or emblem to illustrate the theme. What a great improvement! As the weekend wore on, it turned out to be a real trend with other krewes too poor to own their own floats. We totally approve. The male and female riders were generous, but unfortunately I did not catch a cup. (Can't wait for my son to arrive, that champion cup catcher!)
Saturday had three parades, and started with Pontchartrain at 2 pm in the afternoon (an unusually late start, for whatever reason), which Big Man and I caught on St. Charles in our neighborhood, which allowed Big Man to get some studio work done beforehand. We enjoyed the krewe's appropriate Big Fish emblem, and their theme was cute too. "Can You Name That Ball?" which translated into floats whose title signs were mostly blank, so that the crowd had to figure it out for themselves -- a Carnival first, I think. A float with an oil rig on it depicted "T-a-r B-a-l-l-s;" one with a big redhead on the front was "L-u-c-i-l-l-e B-a-l-l" and so on, with meatballs, football and beach balls, among the others shown. Very clever. We caught a lot of stuff, but alas, none of the little plush fish for our grandson R in Jersey, who gets a well-stuffed post-Carnival box every year.
There were two evening parades Saturday, Sparta and Pygmalion. These I caught at our family crowd's usual parade spot on a Napoleon corner in front of a local agency that trains developmentally disabled adults. This is a very good parade spot, and riders are generally liberal with throws here, and bands almost always begin to play at or near here. (Which is why I'm being circumspect about its exact location. Sorry.) It's also mere blocks away from the lovely little house of L's friend D, who holds an annual party on the first Saturday.
Sparta's theme was another rental-type: "I Write the Songs." Once again, the floats were pretty generic, but decorated just enough in the front to illustrate the singers and songs for each float. We do love this trend -- it makes the "lesser" parades way more enjoyable. They were followed by Pygmalion, whose theme was, naturally, "It's All Greek to Me" which gave the opportunity to tip their hats to several Carnival organizations, since so many are named for Greek mythology. (I have to say, though, in loving critique, that the float for Sparta has to step up the game, as that was the ugliest Aphrodite I had ever seen. And no bosom either.)
The party at D's sweet house, with its shiny polished cement floors, its French doors out to the front courtyard (lined with ice chests full of booze), and its two en suite bathrooms, was absolutely packed with revelers, and you had to squeeze past people to get to the food on the dining room table, the wine on the kitchen counter, or one of the two bathrooms. The crowd included lots of folks who are in or who attend the infamous MOMs Ball, not to mention this year's king Fred, who was loudly hailed by the crowd on his arrival from the parade route. Conversations centered on costumes, on who still needed MOMs tickets (such folks are mostly out of luck by now), on how would future MOMs be without the Rads, and on plans for upcoming parades. As we departed for the longish walk back to L's house, we all agreed to meet back at Pascal's for more succulent salty raw oysters for Druids on Wednesday.
More later as Carnival rolls on....
Beautiful Longue Vue Gardens
Last Friday, a beautiful windy spring day, my sister L and I met in the late afternoon at Longue Vue Gardens, on Bamboo Road at the very edge of Orleans Parish near the 17th Street Canal border with Jefferson. This tiny enclave of private mansions was developed in the late 1930's for wealthy New Orleanians of the non-elite class (that is, non-St. Charles Avenue types). Here Edgar and Edith Stern built their dream home with all the modern conveniences of the early 1940's, and laid out an extensive series of formal gardens and fountains. Since Edith's death in the late '70's, it has been a private museum, available for tours and sometimes private events. (You can read all about it and see photos at their website: http://www.longuevue.com/ )
Both L and I had visited Longue Vue before, but years and years before, so it felt fresh to us. The day was lovely, sunny, with fluffy clouds scudding by quickly in the wind that tossed our hair every which way. Since we had just missed a house tour (and there's only one at a time going), we strolled the Yellow Garden, the Terrace, the Sunken Garden, the Canal Garden and pavillon, the Herb Garden, the alley of oaks that led to the front door, and even the Children's Garden. We peeked into the Playhouse (which, contrary to the name, was built for adults, not kids, to accommodate large parties such as weddings) and viewed the old tennis court. It was all so lovely, even to the small details such as the way the river stones were laid along the fountain allee. Flowers that were blooming were mostly bulbs, such as narcissus, parrot tulips, crocus, and iris -- colorful and sweet-smelling. We felt our spirits lifting at all these tangible signs of spring.
We went back to the beautiful curved lower front door for the house tour to begin. Ours was a small group, just L and I plus two couples who said they were relocating from Pittsburgh. We welcomed them to the city and teased them about the weather. ("Just as nice as home, eh?" and like that.)
Either new things had been added to the tour since we had been there last, or the guide was feeling expansive as our little group was the last one of the day, because we saw details we had never seen before. We saw (but did not use) the hidden elevator, and were given a glimpse through a false door that revealed the house's inner construction. When shown the little well-fitted flower room on the first floor, the guide opened the curved drawers, showing how they pivoted outward, making them more accessible. In the formal dining room, we were shown private label wine bottles from the house's still extensive cellar (parts of the cellar will be added to the tour for the first time ever later this year -- we'll have to go back), with the Stern's name on them, to avoid the import tax. (And they say the rich pay their full share of taxes!) As always, we loved the strange multi-bud vase holders of brass and wood spread throughout the house to display specimens from the gardens (you can purchase reproductions in the gift shop.)
In the sleeping porch on the second floor, we admired the three murphy-style beds that could be raised and then rotated back into the wall when not in use. (Imagine being so wealthy that you need a separate room for napping, so you don't mess up your real bed!) While we liked Mrs. Stern's lovely French-papered and mirrored bathroom and closet, we really *loved* Mr. Stern's black marble bathroom with large corner shower. Despite its age, it looked so contemporary. We giggled at the elaborate air exchange that had been set up so that Edgar's cigars in his study would not bother Edith in the master bedroom, and we gasped in admiration at the cunning little reading light hidden in a faux stack of books on the shelf in that study, shining a tightly focused beam right in the lap of anyone sitting in the seat nearby.
The Henri Schindler Mardi Gras accessories exhibit in what had been once the mansion's kitchen on the ground floor was something of an anticlimax, and you really can't get all the way into it, as the guide is standing right there, wanting to move you onwards to finish the tour. And to tell you the truth, L and I enjoyed the little package wrapping and receiving room, with its rolls of wrapping paper and vintage hatboxes, just as much if not more. (Who doesn't want a wrapping room? I hear both New Orleans socialite and philanthropist Louella Berger and mega-millionaire Oprah have one.)
We made a big show of tipping the guide -- to prompt the out-of-towners to do the same -- and left as the group went from the main house to the Carriage House and Playhouse, since we had already done those ourselves earlier. We departed very happy, vowing to return when they open the cellar, and to bring our spouses. Big Man is a big believer in opulence and will get a big kick out of it, I know.
A lovely time. We recommend you go.
Both L and I had visited Longue Vue before, but years and years before, so it felt fresh to us. The day was lovely, sunny, with fluffy clouds scudding by quickly in the wind that tossed our hair every which way. Since we had just missed a house tour (and there's only one at a time going), we strolled the Yellow Garden, the Terrace, the Sunken Garden, the Canal Garden and pavillon, the Herb Garden, the alley of oaks that led to the front door, and even the Children's Garden. We peeked into the Playhouse (which, contrary to the name, was built for adults, not kids, to accommodate large parties such as weddings) and viewed the old tennis court. It was all so lovely, even to the small details such as the way the river stones were laid along the fountain allee. Flowers that were blooming were mostly bulbs, such as narcissus, parrot tulips, crocus, and iris -- colorful and sweet-smelling. We felt our spirits lifting at all these tangible signs of spring.
We went back to the beautiful curved lower front door for the house tour to begin. Ours was a small group, just L and I plus two couples who said they were relocating from Pittsburgh. We welcomed them to the city and teased them about the weather. ("Just as nice as home, eh?" and like that.)
Either new things had been added to the tour since we had been there last, or the guide was feeling expansive as our little group was the last one of the day, because we saw details we had never seen before. We saw (but did not use) the hidden elevator, and were given a glimpse through a false door that revealed the house's inner construction. When shown the little well-fitted flower room on the first floor, the guide opened the curved drawers, showing how they pivoted outward, making them more accessible. In the formal dining room, we were shown private label wine bottles from the house's still extensive cellar (parts of the cellar will be added to the tour for the first time ever later this year -- we'll have to go back), with the Stern's name on them, to avoid the import tax. (And they say the rich pay their full share of taxes!) As always, we loved the strange multi-bud vase holders of brass and wood spread throughout the house to display specimens from the gardens (you can purchase reproductions in the gift shop.)
In the sleeping porch on the second floor, we admired the three murphy-style beds that could be raised and then rotated back into the wall when not in use. (Imagine being so wealthy that you need a separate room for napping, so you don't mess up your real bed!) While we liked Mrs. Stern's lovely French-papered and mirrored bathroom and closet, we really *loved* Mr. Stern's black marble bathroom with large corner shower. Despite its age, it looked so contemporary. We giggled at the elaborate air exchange that had been set up so that Edgar's cigars in his study would not bother Edith in the master bedroom, and we gasped in admiration at the cunning little reading light hidden in a faux stack of books on the shelf in that study, shining a tightly focused beam right in the lap of anyone sitting in the seat nearby.
The Henri Schindler Mardi Gras accessories exhibit in what had been once the mansion's kitchen on the ground floor was something of an anticlimax, and you really can't get all the way into it, as the guide is standing right there, wanting to move you onwards to finish the tour. And to tell you the truth, L and I enjoyed the little package wrapping and receiving room, with its rolls of wrapping paper and vintage hatboxes, just as much if not more. (Who doesn't want a wrapping room? I hear both New Orleans socialite and philanthropist Louella Berger and mega-millionaire Oprah have one.)
We made a big show of tipping the guide -- to prompt the out-of-towners to do the same -- and left as the group went from the main house to the Carriage House and Playhouse, since we had already done those ourselves earlier. We departed very happy, vowing to return when they open the cellar, and to bring our spouses. Big Man is a big believer in opulence and will get a big kick out of it, I know.
A lovely time. We recommend you go.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Sunday Night Big Band
Big Man is generally off on Sunday nights, but when he was called and asked to sub for another trumpet player at the regular Sunday evening Big Band Night at a large reception hall near Causeway, he jumped at it -- and not just 'cause we need the money. He loves playing those classic tunes, and he knew the gig would help polish up his reading chops.
I decided to go, both to "spend time" with Big Man (kind of relative since he'd be on stage for most of it) and to check out the scene for myself. I don't always get a full report on some of Big Man's more interesting gigs, since some of the time his head is burrowed in an unfamiliar band book and he can't pay attention to whatever else is going in around the band. (Like, he played last week at the Krewe of Thoth ball, and I barely could pry the parade theme -- "Thoth Goes to College" -- out of him.) So I wanted to see for myself, and possibly get to report to my faithful readers (if any of y'all are left).
Big Man dressed in the standard tuxedo, and I just wore what I had put on that morning to preach in (under my robe, of course), which I figured was good enough. But it almost wasn't. Turns out that the Big Band Night is quite the thing with the over-65 set, and the women especially dress up in a major way. Several of these older ladies were in formals, and most were in fancy cocktail attire. The men were in suits and ties, or at least sport coats and ties. God bless that generation! They know what's proper for a night of dancing to the good ol' music (which of course to them is the music of their youth and prime, kind of like how I feel about old New Orleans R&B and the Beatles and Motown).
The band IS indeed big, and Big Man's place was as third trumpet. There were also multiple 'bones and saxes, and a big rhythm section. Most of the band was older than Big Man, but some were just around our age. Among the audience, I was quite clearly the youngest person. (And without trying, became something of a draw, as several old gentlemen made their way to the far corner where I had established myself, hoping to be unobtrusive and unnoticed, and asked me to dance. But I only danced with Big Man, who got genially shoved from the stage about three times by the lead trumpeter, who said, "Oh go dance with your wife." But I guess I could have been the Belle of the Ball had I been so inclined.)
It was really touching to see these old couples, some looking pretty infirm, making their way around the dance floor. (I noticed the band kept all the selections pretty short, verse-chorus-verse-end, in deference to the capabilities of the attendees.) Some of the dancers had some pretty sharp moves, others just kind of shuffled around, but it was so clear how much they were enjoying themselves, how much it meant to them. It was really sweet to see some of those old couples, apparently married forever, still so devoted to each other. A few tables were celebrating birthdays, and cake was shared with the band members at the break.
I had figured Big Man would get no solos as third trumpet, but it turns out that since the lead trumpeter knows Big Man from his playing with the Bobby Lonero Band, he pitched him a few solos. On one, Big Man blew the roof off the place with this amazing drawn-out high A. Hot stuff!
The whole thing was over by 10 pm, which I assumed was actually *after* the usual bed-time of most of the dancers. On the way home, Big Man confessed it was so much fun he'd do that gig for free (oops, don't tell anyone!).
I decided to go, both to "spend time" with Big Man (kind of relative since he'd be on stage for most of it) and to check out the scene for myself. I don't always get a full report on some of Big Man's more interesting gigs, since some of the time his head is burrowed in an unfamiliar band book and he can't pay attention to whatever else is going in around the band. (Like, he played last week at the Krewe of Thoth ball, and I barely could pry the parade theme -- "Thoth Goes to College" -- out of him.) So I wanted to see for myself, and possibly get to report to my faithful readers (if any of y'all are left).
Big Man dressed in the standard tuxedo, and I just wore what I had put on that morning to preach in (under my robe, of course), which I figured was good enough. But it almost wasn't. Turns out that the Big Band Night is quite the thing with the over-65 set, and the women especially dress up in a major way. Several of these older ladies were in formals, and most were in fancy cocktail attire. The men were in suits and ties, or at least sport coats and ties. God bless that generation! They know what's proper for a night of dancing to the good ol' music (which of course to them is the music of their youth and prime, kind of like how I feel about old New Orleans R&B and the Beatles and Motown).
The band IS indeed big, and Big Man's place was as third trumpet. There were also multiple 'bones and saxes, and a big rhythm section. Most of the band was older than Big Man, but some were just around our age. Among the audience, I was quite clearly the youngest person. (And without trying, became something of a draw, as several old gentlemen made their way to the far corner where I had established myself, hoping to be unobtrusive and unnoticed, and asked me to dance. But I only danced with Big Man, who got genially shoved from the stage about three times by the lead trumpeter, who said, "Oh go dance with your wife." But I guess I could have been the Belle of the Ball had I been so inclined.)
It was really touching to see these old couples, some looking pretty infirm, making their way around the dance floor. (I noticed the band kept all the selections pretty short, verse-chorus-verse-end, in deference to the capabilities of the attendees.) Some of the dancers had some pretty sharp moves, others just kind of shuffled around, but it was so clear how much they were enjoying themselves, how much it meant to them. It was really sweet to see some of those old couples, apparently married forever, still so devoted to each other. A few tables were celebrating birthdays, and cake was shared with the band members at the break.
I had figured Big Man would get no solos as third trumpet, but it turns out that since the lead trumpeter knows Big Man from his playing with the Bobby Lonero Band, he pitched him a few solos. On one, Big Man blew the roof off the place with this amazing drawn-out high A. Hot stuff!
The whole thing was over by 10 pm, which I assumed was actually *after* the usual bed-time of most of the dancers. On the way home, Big Man confessed it was so much fun he'd do that gig for free (oops, don't tell anyone!).
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Krewe du Vieux
It was the warmest Krewe du Vieux in years and years. As we readied ourselves for the procession (KDV being more of a "march" than an actual "parade"), we spoke of previous nights in bitter cold, eyes watering, feet turned to blocks of ice, as we waited for KDV to come by as the cold wind blew. (And of course I remembered nights at my late friend Russ's house, so close to the route, and the laughter and re-living of the satiric "floats" in Russ's warm living room.)
Since KDV is wildly popular -- with some proclaiming it their "favorite parade" though really I cannot see how that could be true -- I planned to avoid trying to find a scarce parking space by riding with my sister L and her husband. But unknown to L, the friends they were riding with had *also* promised rides to other friends. Thus it was on Saturday night that I found myself squeezed into an SUV with *8* other adults, and none of us skinny. Being so close together, we were a little hilarious in our piling in and our piling out, and more than one reference was made to circus clowns exiting a toy car.
A parking place was being held for us in front of the Vieux Carré apartment being leased by L's friends from Chicago (he's a builder who is bidding on the contract for the new Orleans Parish prison, which is kind of ironic since his brother is a well-known defense attorney in town). The apartment -- it's a house, really -- is on St. Phillip, a few blocks from Lafitte's Blacksmith Shop, the historic old piano bar on Bourbon. The spot was held by L's friends parking their car in it, and then on spotting our arrival, moving their car to their rented gated parking lot. This being duly accomplished, we were given a tour of the house.
OMG it was gorgeous. The main house had been a traditional camelback double, but it had been opened up as a single, creating a large living-dining area with shuttered French doors all around. One of the original archways, that had been between the double parlors on each side, had been retained as a frame for the stairway to the loft area to the right. To the left was a sunken kitchen with bright blue ceramic tiles on the countertops and backsplash; through the kitchen on the right was a nice size en suite bedroom. Straight through the kitchen, through another French door, was the brick courtyard with comfortable patio furniture, a beer keg, a propane barbecue, and a small outdoor refrigerator.
On the other side of the courtyard was the old slave quarters that had been made into a guesthouse (rented by an employee of L's friends). The first level had an attractive if small living area open to the modern kitchen with a high counter for dining, with French doors facing the courtyard straight across. A rather steep staircase (don't try this while drunk!) led to a bedroom-sitting area, and a queer little bathroom on two levels, with the bathtub/shower being tiled in custom New Orleans-themed tiles (beautiful!). Across the whole floor was a balcony accessed by more French doors.
After oohing and aahing over the courtyard and guesthouse, we went back in to explore the upstairs area of the main house. The original camelback had been expanded by opening up the attic to the sloped roof, to create a good size sitting room with a full bath off it, and then up a few stairs to the large master bedroom area, with a loft-like view into the kitchen below from the stairs.
In case the reader, like me, is curious over what such a lovely living space in the French Quarter costs, I have to say I don't know for sure -- and certainly couldn't ask. But I do know that the couple pointed out a different apartment they had seen on their search, that they hadn't liked as much, and said in passing that the rejected apartment was $3500 per month. So that gives you an idea.
Anyway, it's a perfect spot for marshaling forces for a look at KDV -- not to mention a great place for Mardi Gras refueling!
KDV's ostensible theme this year was "25 Years Wasted" as it is their anniversary year, but of course, none of the subkrewes has the least responsibility to act on the overall theme. Each of the subkrewes goes with its own theme, and as you can imagine, these range widely. (For any of your readers out there who are not familiar with KDV, first, I am SO sorry for you, and second, you can read more at their website: )
Well, it was wild and woolly, with lots of genitalia made out of foam and fake fur, and lots and lots of skewering of local and national leaders. (The very first marching group, Krewe of L.E.W.D., proclaimed a new military policy of "Do Ass, Do Tail" and had a papier maché sculpture of a gay cowboy riding a donkey with the Commander-in-Chief's face.) The BP Oil Spill was attacked with biting sarcasm by several groups (C.R.U.D.E. titled its theme "New Oilins," Meshugge declared that "God Hates Shrimp" and Krewe of Underwear showed "Tales from the Silver Sheen") and a topless Sarah Palin sculpture decorated T.O.K.I.N.'s depiction of the Tea Party conservatives. The New Orleans Sewage & Water Board was slashed for its unconscionable "don't drink the water" announcement this winter, and one group portrayed TSA ("Don't touch my junk!") as serial molesters. (Marchers gleefully groped crowd members as they passed by.) Tremé creator David Simon was mocked for aspects of his generally-beloved HBO series, with marchers wearing costumes based on the sperm-headed KDV outfits portrayed in the show by John Goodman (which had never actually appeared in KDV before). Mondo reported from the year 2525 that the Saenger Theater was finally reopening, and that the Saints had once again won the Superbowl -- and that the Landrieu family was now officially in charge of the Universe.
We had friends in various of the subkrewes, so we were kissed and hugged and showered with KDV goodies as folks went by -- and I was surprised by several parishioners in costume, marching with subkrewes who also hugged and kissed me as they went by (one woman parishioner warning me in advance about the molesting "TSA" agents behind her group).
In a marked improvement over years past, every single group had a band, which really added to the festive scene (and brought more employment to New Orleans musicians, always a good thing -- and no, Big Man did not march this year, as he had already been booked with a gig by the time he was asked. You snooze, you lose. But he was sorry to miss it.)
When KDV was finally done, I made to go back to the St. Phillip house, but my sister L stopped me. "There's another one," she said mysteriously. It seems one of the subkrewes, Delusion, had quit KDV in a huff (who knows why? does it matter?), and was marching a good 6 or more blocks behind. They finally showed up, with young women in white corsets up in front (you can't knock that), and one backup band.
And then it was over for another year, time for us to go back to the house and talk over our favorite bits and drink some more -- and then to pile ourselves back into the SUV for the ride Uptown. A fine time was had by all.
Since KDV is wildly popular -- with some proclaiming it their "favorite parade" though really I cannot see how that could be true -- I planned to avoid trying to find a scarce parking space by riding with my sister L and her husband. But unknown to L, the friends they were riding with had *also* promised rides to other friends. Thus it was on Saturday night that I found myself squeezed into an SUV with *8* other adults, and none of us skinny. Being so close together, we were a little hilarious in our piling in and our piling out, and more than one reference was made to circus clowns exiting a toy car.
A parking place was being held for us in front of the Vieux Carré apartment being leased by L's friends from Chicago (he's a builder who is bidding on the contract for the new Orleans Parish prison, which is kind of ironic since his brother is a well-known defense attorney in town). The apartment -- it's a house, really -- is on St. Phillip, a few blocks from Lafitte's Blacksmith Shop, the historic old piano bar on Bourbon. The spot was held by L's friends parking their car in it, and then on spotting our arrival, moving their car to their rented gated parking lot. This being duly accomplished, we were given a tour of the house.
OMG it was gorgeous. The main house had been a traditional camelback double, but it had been opened up as a single, creating a large living-dining area with shuttered French doors all around. One of the original archways, that had been between the double parlors on each side, had been retained as a frame for the stairway to the loft area to the right. To the left was a sunken kitchen with bright blue ceramic tiles on the countertops and backsplash; through the kitchen on the right was a nice size en suite bedroom. Straight through the kitchen, through another French door, was the brick courtyard with comfortable patio furniture, a beer keg, a propane barbecue, and a small outdoor refrigerator.
On the other side of the courtyard was the old slave quarters that had been made into a guesthouse (rented by an employee of L's friends). The first level had an attractive if small living area open to the modern kitchen with a high counter for dining, with French doors facing the courtyard straight across. A rather steep staircase (don't try this while drunk!) led to a bedroom-sitting area, and a queer little bathroom on two levels, with the bathtub/shower being tiled in custom New Orleans-themed tiles (beautiful!). Across the whole floor was a balcony accessed by more French doors.
After oohing and aahing over the courtyard and guesthouse, we went back in to explore the upstairs area of the main house. The original camelback had been expanded by opening up the attic to the sloped roof, to create a good size sitting room with a full bath off it, and then up a few stairs to the large master bedroom area, with a loft-like view into the kitchen below from the stairs.
In case the reader, like me, is curious over what such a lovely living space in the French Quarter costs, I have to say I don't know for sure -- and certainly couldn't ask. But I do know that the couple pointed out a different apartment they had seen on their search, that they hadn't liked as much, and said in passing that the rejected apartment was $3500 per month. So that gives you an idea.
Anyway, it's a perfect spot for marshaling forces for a look at KDV -- not to mention a great place for Mardi Gras refueling!
KDV's ostensible theme this year was "25 Years Wasted" as it is their anniversary year, but of course, none of the subkrewes has the least responsibility to act on the overall theme. Each of the subkrewes goes with its own theme, and as you can imagine, these range widely. (For any of your readers out there who are not familiar with KDV, first, I am SO sorry for you, and second, you can read more at their website: )
Well, it was wild and woolly, with lots of genitalia made out of foam and fake fur, and lots and lots of skewering of local and national leaders. (The very first marching group, Krewe of L.E.W.D., proclaimed a new military policy of "Do Ass, Do Tail" and had a papier maché sculpture of a gay cowboy riding a donkey with the Commander-in-Chief's face.) The BP Oil Spill was attacked with biting sarcasm by several groups (C.R.U.D.E. titled its theme "New Oilins," Meshugge declared that "God Hates Shrimp" and Krewe of Underwear showed "Tales from the Silver Sheen") and a topless Sarah Palin sculpture decorated T.O.K.I.N.'s depiction of the Tea Party conservatives. The New Orleans Sewage & Water Board was slashed for its unconscionable "don't drink the water" announcement this winter, and one group portrayed TSA ("Don't touch my junk!") as serial molesters. (Marchers gleefully groped crowd members as they passed by.) Tremé creator David Simon was mocked for aspects of his generally-beloved HBO series, with marchers wearing costumes based on the sperm-headed KDV outfits portrayed in the show by John Goodman (which had never actually appeared in KDV before). Mondo reported from the year 2525 that the Saenger Theater was finally reopening, and that the Saints had once again won the Superbowl -- and that the Landrieu family was now officially in charge of the Universe.
We had friends in various of the subkrewes, so we were kissed and hugged and showered with KDV goodies as folks went by -- and I was surprised by several parishioners in costume, marching with subkrewes who also hugged and kissed me as they went by (one woman parishioner warning me in advance about the molesting "TSA" agents behind her group).
In a marked improvement over years past, every single group had a band, which really added to the festive scene (and brought more employment to New Orleans musicians, always a good thing -- and no, Big Man did not march this year, as he had already been booked with a gig by the time he was asked. You snooze, you lose. But he was sorry to miss it.)
When KDV was finally done, I made to go back to the St. Phillip house, but my sister L stopped me. "There's another one," she said mysteriously. It seems one of the subkrewes, Delusion, had quit KDV in a huff (who knows why? does it matter?), and was marching a good 6 or more blocks behind. They finally showed up, with young women in white corsets up in front (you can't knock that), and one backup band.
And then it was over for another year, time for us to go back to the house and talk over our favorite bits and drink some more -- and then to pile ourselves back into the SUV for the ride Uptown. A fine time was had by all.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
More Signs of Spring
More and more, the city of New Orleans is entering into Spring.
Sign: Today, crews from the city were mowing the grass on the St. Charles neutral ground (hey, y'all up North -- are you mowing your lawns yet?).
Sign: On the Jefferson Avenue neutral ground, and in front yard gardens all over Uptown and the Garden District, camellia bushes are in full, vivid bloom, their dark red and dark pink flowers vibrant against the glossy dark green foliage.
Sign: Baskets of bright geraniums on front porches on Dublin and Freret Streets.
It will be a warm Mardi Gras, and folks are more and more getting into the springtime Carnival season.
Sign: Today, crews from the city were mowing the grass on the St. Charles neutral ground (hey, y'all up North -- are you mowing your lawns yet?).
Sign: On the Jefferson Avenue neutral ground, and in front yard gardens all over Uptown and the Garden District, camellia bushes are in full, vivid bloom, their dark red and dark pink flowers vibrant against the glossy dark green foliage.
Sign: Baskets of bright geraniums on front porches on Dublin and Freret Streets.
It will be a warm Mardi Gras, and folks are more and more getting into the springtime Carnival season.
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