The weather was so perfect. The Saint Anne's parade was one of the largest, longest, and slowest moving versions of its incarnation ever, I'm told by oldtimers. The city's spirit was absolutely stellar. The Krewe York contingent got endless tribute by way of being a photographer-magnet and other revellers coming up close to scope the group out at length. Mr. Twist was highly popular, especially after the first several blocks when more than half his costume all of a sudden disappeared leaving quite a nice bit of tan-able skin on view. I kept hearing people say, "Look at the puppet!" And then their companions say, "Look at his body!" Andrea B rocked in that brassy NYC way, fresh from her duties at a free kitchen in St. Bernard's Parish. Daddy's umbrella was better than having a body guard, the way people would part in front of it. And the Empress, -what do you say? She out gorgeoused whole blocks worth of the gorgeous. The parade was exhillerating and exhausting, I literally passed out afterwards. Truely a post-apocalyptic celebration.
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