I think so. Because to me, New Orleans is sexy.
I guess, first, I should acknowledge that there are different types of sexy. But, in this case, I am not talking about perfectly packaged, “everything in its place” sexy. And I’m not talking about cute, fun, flirty sexy.
I am talking about seductive, sultry, a little messy, too much of a good thing but you don’t want to stop, sexy.
On my first trip to New Orleans, I was just impressed alone with the outside showers. I was a little kid, and we were there for the World’s Fair. All I remember is it was stifling hot, but they had outdoor showers, or misters or something, that we spent a lot of time admiring.
Now, I think of New Orleans as a different kind of hot. The food. The music. The architecture. The history. The people. Hot, hot, hot. Sexy hot.
And, the books I’ve read based in New Orleans do as much to bolster my impression as my visits have.
First and foremost, Anne Rice. I was a teenager when I first discovered her books, and I felt a flush of excitement of the forbidden fruit as I read about the vampires in New Orleans. I would never think of the city the same again.
I have recently discovered Isabelle Allende. She shares Rice’s talent of being able to weave a spellbinding story while relaying history and culture. AND a powerful talent to anthropomorphize places.
Both of these authors bring New Orleans to life for me, and in their incarnations, New Orleans is as sexy as the city I know and can’t stay away from.