Most cities go through a full wardrobe change as the sun begins to descend. They move from full day wear to cocktail dress and into clubbing garb. Some effect this change subtly, discreetly, with the observer almost failing to realise it’s taking place. In other cities it’s a full-blown, stripping in front of your eyes, short and sharp transformation. New Orleans is a curious mix of both.
Yesterday I left Matchbox 3.0 at about six in the evening. The sun goes down here at about half past six and I wanted to be back in Jackson Square at that time in order to get a few pictures of the same views of yesterday but in a very different light. For any of you who have ever taken a photo with some thought behind it, you know that you hanker for the light of the early morning and the late evening as the glow it gives is quite special. I walked down Royal Street to the Square and snapped a few shots of the cathedral and the general’s statue once again. The streetlights and shop window lights were beginning to shine with a golden hue and the whole area looked beautiful; here New Orleans had put on its little cocktail number and was flirting demurely with the crowds.
As I stood by the statue in the middle of the garden a blast of jazz filled the square and just energised the whole place. This was excellent music, clear, controlled and yet very much alive. I moved closer to find a group of young men with an assortment of instruments – from trumpets to tuba to drums – standing randomly by a bench just belting out this amazing sound. The crowd had gathered around them instantly and soon there were couples dancing on the street. It is difficult to convey the electric blast of energy that the whole square was enveloped in. I loved it.
By the time I turned to move away from the cathedral the sun had disappeared completely. I walked back heading towards Canal Street via Bourbon to try and catch glimpses on camera of this infamous street. I had been told that it was likely that there would be a lot of Halloween themed activity going on this weekend so I was hoping for a few quirky characters to be wandering around for me to photograph. And, whereas Jackson Square retains its elegance and floats about in the spangly but conservative cocktail dress, Bourbon Street throws itself straight into nightclubbing gear and we’re not talking the trendy and fashionable kind which would grace covers of uber-glossy magazines but the skin baring, bead covered, neon infused, alcohol scented, fabrics which buffet your consciousness as you meander down it.
Locals speak of this street with almost disdain. Any blog, website or article you read about spending time here written by a local carries within it a hint of distaste. I can understand why. I really enjoyed my weekend here last week but I am a tourist who wanted to see what all the hype related to this place was. But I’ve done it now. And I can imagine the locals feel similarly. It’s a place you come to for the experience or, if you’re local, to bring someone visiting from out of town, but rarely otherwise. I’ve been looking into other places to spend time in the evening in New Orleans and there are hundreds of bars and clubs which look amazing and which are away from Bourbon Street, both geographically and in spirit. And that’s where the locals go. I will be visiting some of those during my remaining time here.
Having said this, there is a place for Bourbon Street. It is good fun and, if you leave your snobbishness at Canal Street and just aim to have a great time, it is a laugh to wander in and out of the bars. And there are a few spots which aren’t awful. New Orleans, by the way, is either the only, or one of the only, places in the US where you can walk outdoors with alcohol and for many US citizens this means drinking at speed until they resemble the walking dead. However, for the majority it just means being able to relax around the whole idea of drinking and enjoying spreading their consumption from one establishment to another and wandering around the area enjoying their concoctions while taking in the atmosphere outdoors.
Halloween wasn’t yet quite as in evidence as I’d been led to expect. But there were a few characters around. In fact, as I walked back up Bourbon Street I suddenly had the feeling of something large behind me. As I turned I found myself facing this huge character in the scariest costume ever just a couple of steps away and my heart nearly stopped. My rabbit in headlights stare must have been enough to make whomever was inside the costume feel bad because they patted me on the back and, when they saw the camera, happily stood to one side for me to photograph them.
And, when you go from one extreme of city styling to another while wandering around – and remember this is all within a ten minute walk – you realise that New Orleans is a tale of two cities, the genteel and elegant juxtaposed with the down and dirty; a very visual contradiction: a very proper Southern lady versus a street smart hustler. Makes for an interesting time.
E x
Losing Sight of the Margin 