In honor of my trip to New Orleans this weekend (leaving tonight!) I thought I’d share this decadent, beautiful home of “a Southern-born media executive in New York who wears clothes with great silhouettes and really fun modern jewelry from Africa or France. She collects contemporary photographs and art. Her husband is a food and wine writer, and at the drop of a hat they’ll give a party for 60 to 70.” from House Beautiful. I’m drooling. That’s who I want to be.
The homeowner shares, “I think I dreamed the house. When you bump into something that’s in your mind’s eye, you recognize it. What’s the French term? Coup de foudre— love at first sight. The house is like a character in our lives. In New York, our home is a condo. It’s mostly where we retreat to plug in our batteries. But this is a real house, big enough to gather all our friends into, with a dining room table sturdy enough to hold a suckling pig. This is so Southern — in my walled courtyard, I have my late grandmother’s gardenias planted. We brought them over from Alabama, stem by stem, with the roots in little jars of water. To sit near them reading the newspaper in my pajamas while listening to the New Orleans soundtrack of crickets, steamboat whistles, children playing, cathedral bells, and the pie lady selling pies — it’s divine.” Divinity indeed.