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There is a yellow house in New Orleans—a pretty pile in Marigny (French Quarter-adjacent) that is home to my favorite Airbnb: a pied-à-terre on the building’s second floor with two balconies, ceilings higher than heaven, and a wealth of period hardware and finishes so fabulously abundant you'll remember them forever. It’s also the perfect distance from Frenchmen Street: the walk takes less than five minutes but nary an errant all-night note will reach your ears so long as the windows remain closed.
I’m here with my friend Sydney for a three-night stay that I was motivated to plan upon learning of Commander’s Palace—the storied 19th-century Garden District establishment—and in particular of the 25-cent martinis they are known to sling at lunchtime. That such a deal, which is undeniably excellent, prompted me to plan an entire trip and spend hundreds of dollars in the process, can say whatever you want it to about me. I am Irish.
I invited this friend of mine to come along because she sincerely appreciates food and this trip was going to revolve around eating it, not only at Commander’s Palace but here, there, and everywhere. From my research, which consisted of asking colleagues and friends for restaurant recommendations and then pinning them on Google Maps, I quickly discerned that my intended meals spanned all areas of the city, so instead of staying near the culinary scene, I chose to stay near the nightlife so that potential late nights could end in short walks.
You'll find this Airbnb on Esplanade Avenue in close proximity to the aforementioned Frenchmen Street and its rows of live music venues whose jazz performers can often be found in off-hours wandering the strip with instruments in hand. Those who are interested can also make the longer walk into the French Quarter or to Bacchanal (recommended unanimously by each of the dozen people I asked) along the river with ease. We did not end up staying out late a single night of our stay in New Orleans in large part because we ate ourselves into food comas every night, but also because the digs were so sweet that it was hard to find a reason to leave them behind.
When I booked this Airbnb, it was brand new and had no reviews from previous users. I feared that it was too good to be true: the listing’s price point was too low for the amount of space and style it purportedly offered. I booked it anyway out of laziness and greed. From the time that we retrieved the keys from a lockbox outside the front gate to the moment one of said keys turned in the lock, I was clenching my jaw, nervous that what was behind the door would not resemble the pictures. I had nothing to be worried about.
The first indicators that I’d succeeded included the quiet courtyard on the way to the stairwell, which would over the coming days often be populated by one or both members of the downstairs couple (a regret I carry is not sharing a cigarette with the husband, as he often sat at the small table with his ashtray and a pack of Parliaments), and the mirror on the stairwell so towering that I’d wager the house was built around it.
The apartment itself was big and old, with the grand living room doubling as the entryway. A one-and-a-half-story wall of warm wood paneling straight across from the front door broke up the otherwise bountiful exposed brick, with a dainty spiral stair climbing to a wee balcony whose built-in-appointed perch made me feel like a library cat whenever I ventured off. A bit of measured criticism I will introduce here is that the lovely ample antique furnishings are disappointingly supplemented with pieces picked haphazardly from Wayfair—the bar cart and the coffee table in the living room for example.
Off of the living room is where you'll find the first of the two balconies. It is radiant. From the living room, head on into the kitchen, all wood finishes, with everything you'd need to cook if you, unlike us, weren’t planning on eating out every meal.
The two bedrooms, a king and a queen, can be accessed on either side of the spiral stair, and are connected on the other side should you wish to run in revelrous circles around the place. The smaller of the two is cozy and has a tiny full bathroom that made me feel like I was on a ship; Sydney and I brushed our teeth together side by side in the master bath, looking at ourselves in the mirror on the ceiling while listening to The Smiths which we were particularly into at the time. There is also some pristine mirrored tile in the vestibule leading from the master suite to the living room.
The kicker here is the balcony off of the master bedroom—you have to open one of the floor-to-ceiling windows to get onto it. It looks out on the avenue and has two rocking chairs from which I intended to read but instead looked at my phone (after this trip, I did delete my Twitter account, aghast at the time I’d wasted reading about publishing drama and instead buying the book that caused said drama in the first place.) Lots of coffee is drunk here, picked up from one of several very good coffee shops in the surrounding area. The ambiance is unforgettable, watching the city wake and set every day from my perch—one that I would soon like to return to.
