never eat the lucky dogs ~ new orleans ~ engagement

* I preface this to say that if you’re actually ever IN New Orleans, staggering around late at night and find yourself hungry, never, under any circumstances get anything from the Lucky Dog hot dog stands. Ever. They’re not lucky, but they may be dogs.

That said…


New Orleans, Louisiana is one of those places that you either really love, or you really hate.

I suppose to some it’s nothing more than a filthy, crime ridden, grotesquely humid and hot city that someone decided would be a good idea to build in a swamp, representing any and all vile things that you were warned about on the felt and velcro story board in Sunday school. Little felt cut-outs of people with x’s for eyeballs, laying in felt ditches, holding little felt whiskey bottles….alright, maybe they don’t actually have that in Sunday school, but I’d totally go if they did. 

And I honestly can’t argue against any of those points about the city. It’s hot, horribly humid, smells like 6 day old sweaty gym shorts on a good day, and if you spend any time whatsoever wandering Bourbon Street, or any number of other streets in the French Quarter, you absolutely will not want to wear sandals, flip-flops, or open toed shoes of any kind. There’s consistently puddles on and around those streets, with a mixture of substances I care not to discuss on this blog, water not being one of them. 

But it’s New Orleans. It’s gorgeous Southern, historic architecture. It’s food so incredibly delicious that can be found nowhere else on Earth. It’s art in all forms, shapes and sizes. It’s one big, smelly party full of people that are celebrating life. Some perhaps a bit much, but still celebrating nonetheless. But beyond all of the partying and drinking and neon lights and great food, at the very heart and soul of the Big Easy… music. Jazz, actually. Pure, raw, live jazz. 

If there were any chances left of me not being completely in love with the city after the food, the hurricanes (the drink, not the storm), the architecture, the doberge cake….

Oh my heavens…the doberge cake. Girlfriend…you don’t EVEN know..*snaps fingers*….thin layer upon layer upon layer of rich, moist cake, separated only by the most incredibly smooth, light, rich chocolate frosting you’ve ever had. New Orleans is the only place I’ve ever found it, and if I lived there, in 6 months I’d weigh 900 lbs and be one of those nice folks they have to remove from their house with the assistance of a crane and large amounts of Crisco.

Where was I…ah yes..

If there was any chance left of me not being in love with the city after all of those things, the night I stumbled (literally) onto the Maison Bourbon Jazz Hall in the French Quarter, I was irrevocably and forever in love with New Orleans. It’s crowded, dirty, loud, filled with smoke..and I absolutely love it. If you’re able to catch Jamil Sharif and his band playing, it’s some of the best live jazz music you’ll hear. 

If you can’t tell, I really love New Orleans.

All that said, when Seann and Meagan mentioned the possibility of doing an engagement session there, I absolutely jumped at the chance. I’ve been lucky enough to shoot there a few times, but this was hands down one of the most enjoyable sessions. As you can tell, they’re a completely serious couple with absolutely no personality whatsoever, and hate having their pictures taken. But we made it through somehow, and finished their session moments before a huge thunderstorm hit the city. 


Sincere and special thanks to the uber-talented  Tiffany Coker of Avant Images for enduring the 3 hour car ride to shoot with me, and to Miss Polka of Polka Dot Bride for being extremely kind to me by featuring this session on her blog.


Laissez le bon temps rouler ~



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