Uptown

Everyone agrees. Uptown’s got the looks in the family, bless its heart. Those handsome neighborhoods, like the St. Charles Avenue streetcar, trundle upriver, unfolding as a series of distinctive names: Oretha Castle Haley, The Garden District, Irish Channel, Riverside, the Black Pearl, Carrollton. Uptown’s homes — gleaming white and tiered like wedding cakes or shot-gunned into long, narrow lots – are the place’s glory and sheltered by canopies of leafy green or family trees as branched and blossoming as any ancient magnolia. The air’s opulent with the scent of jasmine and a slower, grander age. Uptown, where white tablecloths still cover two-tops. The waiter knows both your name and your preferences. A gin fizz? The crabmeat salad? Satsuma orange ice cream? They’re all on offer, as are the dazzling array of goods. The smart shops on Oak and Maple, Freret and Magazine, rival anything anywhere else. But this is Uptown, sugar. Once you’re here, there’s no reason – not ever – to leave.