I think we were eating sushi in Yerba Buena Gardens on a rare hot sunny day when I mentioned to Jenna that we needed to go to New Orleans. She entertained my reasoning, as usual and considered. Shortly after, I found myself in New York with April and Kristen, and it must have come up in conversation, because before I knew it, we were buying tickets together for a long weekend away, booking a 1600 square foot loft and making lists of the best restaurants in town.

Nothing could have prepared me for the colors around every corner or the haunted feeling of being in another country or time altogether, sensory overload of sights and sounds and fresh air, of tears of laughter throughout each day. Nothing could have prepared me for what was the best food I’ve had anywhere in the world, which gave me an entirely new respect for taste.

I felt like I barely took photos because I was soaking it all in. My shoulders tell a different story from carrying two cameras around at all times, but I’m pretty sure both of the above were worth it. We somehow left without eating beignets, so we’ll clearly need to make our way back soon to fix that.

(timer photo of me while waiting for the ladies to arrive)

Extra happiness for the roll of color film (untouched, really this saturated with color) .

shopping shopping shopping for the best vintage ever. We could have lived in this store.

All Jenna wanted was a swing. Fortunately, we found one for her.

Our taxi rides all seemed enchanted in some way.

Ironically (ok, maybe not entirely) we found ourselves at the Ritz after feeling like the most overdressed people in New Orleans. We really were four ladies with four different shades of red lipstick and high heels.

The best brunch I’ve ever had in my life.

Lazy days that could have happily lasted forever.

Last shot on the roll, which I asked Jenna to take of me before we left.

Goodbye for now, New Orleans, and thank you for leaving us with a lingering intoxication.