A morning in the Quarter

Magdalena and I came to New Orleans for a few days to help out Nana through the latest round of chemo. It's proving most effective, I might add (fingers crossed!). Mardi Gras is next Tuesday, and though we've yet to catch a parade, the energy in the city is so fun! I'm hoping the energy helps kick my folks' cancer in the ass. 

Yesterday, we took Nana for her dose of magical poison at Touro Infirmary. That's some dark magic, I tell ya. Magdalena and I had three hours to kill before picking Nana back up, so I took my baby girl on a walking tour of the French Quarter to show her my old stomping grounds. A Friday morning stroll was perfect, just before the insanity of Mardi Gras weekend got into full swing. Also, I like the Quarter best in the morning, when the streets are still clean and the tourists haven't begun misbehaving. First stop was my favorite café, Croissant D'Or. 

Croissant D'Or was once Angelo Brocato's Italian Ice Cream shop. Judging from the sidewalk tiles in the picture below, it would appear that the old Brocato's had gendered seating areas? Ah, the good old days. 

  

What always used to drive me nuts about Croissant D'Or was that they close at 3 o'clock in the afternoon. So getting my business together and down to the Quarter in time to enjoy an eclair and coffee at Croissant D'Or was a rare and special treat. Below are a couple pics of the interior of the café. 

Magdalena admires the birthday cake molding.

After coffee and tiramisu, I loaded Mags back into the front carrier, and we made our way up Royal Street. We passed many fortune tellers, both ones who'd set up a table on the street, and others who'd established shops, like this one below. 

When I was younger, I loved reading Tarot Cards, Runes, and doing the I Ching. But now that I have children, absolutely not! The stakes are much too high. It used to be just one basic question my girlfriends and I would ask: Will I find true love? But the threat that the cards might reveal some awful fate for my kids is just too much to handle. My friend and former partner in divinations, Kathleen, put it perfectly--Even if you were to ask a fortune teller the most innocuous question: Will the ache in my lower back subside? there's always the possibility that she would reply, Hmm, my sources aren't saying, but I can't shake the image of a dying child. Uh, yeah, no fucking thanks.

Historically, Royal St. has always been my favorite Quarter thoroughfare, but I've shifted my allegiance to Chartres, which is a little bit grittier and more interesting. We stopped and tipped our hat to my favorite place to have a drink, Napoleon House, and then wended our way to my favorite perfumerie, Hové.

Old typewriter at Hové.

Hové moved from Royal to Chartres, which was a little unsettling. Magdalena and I had fun smelling--or in her case, trying to eat--all of the tester papers, especially their signature vetiver root scent. It's so earthy and deep. Think sandalwood, but not so hippie. I like to imagine I would have carried a little vetiver sachet to breathe deeply as I walked through the foul-smelling Quarter streets of the 19th century. The Quarter smells none too nice on garbage day in the height of summer. Can you imagine what it was like before plumbing and deodorant?!   

Magdalena made a lot of friends in the Quarter. She's very hip to the fact that smiles will get you far in this life. She kinda left a trail of broken hearts in Jackson Square. Next time we visit the Quarter, we're going on a guided tour of The New Orleans Pharmacy Museum, because old-timey glass bottles and herbal concoctions are too fun. I promise to share. 

"Thanks for taking me on the tour, Mom!"