Laissez les bon-temps rouler

Bourbon at night

I’m sitting in Louis Armstrong International Airport waiting for my flight home after a quick two week job in New Orleans. It’s foggy and damp out, warm and sticky for the beginning of February.

The last time I was here was in 2004, before Katrina, Ida, smart phones, social media, before so much; when I was a little baby costumer working on one of my first films. A deer caught in headlights comes to mind. Only now, with hindsight, do I realize how dazed and confused I was back then, unsure of how the whole on location in the film industry thing worked. In the eighteen years since, the strangeness of living in hotel rooms for months on end and becoming part of a temporary film family has become quite normal.


Back then I had no idea how that film family would impact my life. Last night I sat in Bar Marilu with friends I’ve known for years and laughed for hours about all of the absurd situations we’ve been in together. Eighteen years is a long time! So many film sets, crazy costume designers, racks of clothes being wheeled through arroyos, accidents, fun nights out, insane actors, cities, and adventures.

The Quarter

My recent job turned out to be old home week and I feel immense gratitude for the friendships I get to pop in and out of and for this job I’ve had a love/hate relationship with for almost two decades.

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