During my first extended stay in New Orleans, I read an article about then-mayor Cantrell noting that she was not born-and-raised. I think she'd lived in the area for 18 years and was still looked at as an outsider.
That should tell you something about how insular the communities are.
Despite my growing affinity for grits or how many boil-water advisories I've endured, I know I'll always be considered a Northerner, an outsider.
So it was an honor to be asked to support the N'Awlins Dawlins baby dolls on Mardi Gras Day this year. They were to strut from the newly-refurbished Dew Drop Inn around 11am and so the call went out: arrive by 9am. I put on my sequin jacket and comfortable shoes and headed out early to catch the beginning of the Zulu parade on Jackson Street.
Then I walked along Lasalle, among the growing clusters of full-on BBQ set ups, canopies with smokers and grills, music blaring, sleepy-eyed kids in their striped Mardi Gras finery. The baby doll queen hollered at me from a porch, where she was helping pour drinks. And so the day began.
We focused on setup first, pans of dirty rice and fried chicken on Sternos, then inflating blue and silver balloons to festoon the MG Indian headquarters. Then we hurried to the Dew Drop, where the ladies were getting dressed in their pale blue and silver finery. I helped out with safety pins and bobby pins, hunting down lip gloss and fussing over bows. The grand marshal's custom-made cape needed a bigger pin. And the mimosa glasses always needed refilling.
Eventually everyone was ready and headed out to the stage for photos. The brass band began to play and I stationed myself outside the door, waving at doorman Ace, to video the strut. The baby dolls were so joyous and beautiful, with a little doll baby and her brother joining in the with their own finery and smiles. I followed along, taking photos, holding purses and water bottles and enjoying the gorgeous carnival day.
