Growing up, the sorts of dreamy royal dances and balls I saw and dreamed up were the ones that dotted the Disney movies and fantasy literature piling up my bookshelves- whimsical tales of dainty young courtesans and their captivating Prince Charmings, fanciful illustrations of men and women donning majestic suits and gowns trailed by miles of shimmering gold and purple fabrics as members of the court bowed and curtseyed before their Queens and Kings. Not until I arrived in NOLA did I realize that I'd be walking into my very own fairytale, minus the guy and jewel encrusted crown, that is.
Mardis Gras, one of the longest and most withstanding traditions in the heart of Lousiana, sure loves their balls. With a clear homage for old Southern gentry, the Krewe of Thoth threw their 53rd annual ball, while I got to play the part of spectator and snap a few pix in the process. While I couldn't help but swoon just a little bit, as all the fanciful parts of my imagination came alive, there's something about these ritualistic processions that has me sort of creeped out. Little boys wearing bright blond wigs? Men in KKK-reminsicent masks walking stiffly about as we clap and cheer like it's the Medieval times? The stiff and painted faces of normal people masquerading as Kings and Queens in their full regalia? Call me a pooper- but there's just something off about it. Nevertheless, I can definitely claim my place in history- this former LA girl raised on palm trees, sun and surf secured her place in a very exclusive and bizarre underworld of old money and high society.
my fave nola gals pulling a quick smile for the cam
the very ornate and lavish Ball set up
Junior princess lined up to greet their Queen
creepy much? cool? sound off.
the royal queen and kind
oh, what a night!