Trailer Trash Mama (Again!)

We were  last in New Orleans twenty years ago on a rather fabulous wild weekend. It hasn’t changed much despite the ravages of Hurricane Katrina and several others since then.  The French Quarter remains charming and vibrant, ridiculously talented musicians busk in the pretty squares, the queue for beignets seems not to have moved an inch, and drunken tourists are still staggering along Bourbon Street, even on a cold January afternoon. Preservation Hall The Pepper Palace - over 200 hot sauces.   Why yes, I think I would. What has changed is me I guess.  Last time we revelled in everything the city has to offer.  This time not so much.   We stayed at an RV park located on the outskirts of the French Quarter, underneath the elevated highway. Amazing location but noisy and not a place to be walking at night.  There were sirens and gunshots.  And Covid of course - the city was rife with it.  Then there’s Daisy, our nervous dog, who doesn’t care for noise and lots of people - and cars and b

The first sign that Marfa is not your ordinary small Texas town is on the long drive towards it.   On the side of the road, really in the middle of nowhere,  is a tiny Prada store.  It’s actually a “pop architectural land art project” by two German artists and was built in 2005 with real Prada shoes and bags on display, but no real door.  It was supposed to eventually disintegrate into the landscape.  A comment on consumerism?  The first night it was finished vandals broke in and took everything.  Now the handbags have no bottoms and the shoes are all right feet, there’s a security system, and the building is repaired regularly to keep it “alive”.  Suggestions for a new “Artists Statement” welcome. Ever since Beyoncé posted a photo in front of the store it’s become a Destination.  We saw a trio of young women who made the pilgrimage for selfies as we passed by.  I resisted the urge.  Even the Simpsons couldn’t resist. Despite not knowing a single Beyoncé song, this tiny town in the mid

I  used to love Texas.  Back in the mid-80s there was a brief, heady period when British companies were buying American companies and I was employed as an industrial “marker researcher” to ferret out potential acquisitions.  I had occasion to visit Texas and was tickled by the courtly manners and generosity of Texans.  I distinctly remember the first time I landed in Dallas.  After living in Paris, London and New York for several years I realized how much I missed a vast horizon, and Texas had that in spades.  Plus cowboys.   I mentioned my cowboy proclivities in the first TTMama blog, surprising a fair number of people.  But I spent my formative years on horseback in the mountains of Victoria, first as a customer, paying for the privilege to round up cattle, but graduating to assistant camp cook by the time I was 18.  Aussie cowboys don’t wear the same hats or sound the same as American cowboys but they sure do ride the same and walk the same.   It was no surprise to me that Dan has T

 Just a quickie to let you know how much I appreciate all your kind and funny comments. I try to respond to each and every one but for some baffling reason they’re not posting any more. I need a kid to help with the technological mysteries. Until then, THANk YOU!  Your comments mean so much to me.  Pippa

Why is it that so many geniuses are such assholes?  Take Frank Lloyd Wright, who, according to himself and no doubt his mother, was the “Greatest Architect Ever”.  I’ve long been an admirer of some of his iconic buildings but had only been in one - the magnificent Guggenheim in NYC - so a chance to tour Taliesin West in Phoenix was not to be passed up even if it cost almost $50 a pop.   You can only go with a guide but unlike our wonderful Navajo guide at Antelope Slot Canyon, this guide did not understand the concept of letting the site do the talking.  For nearly two hours she managed to tell us all about her life as a former choreographer in New Orleans, her mother who was a famous jazz musician, her philosophy about Life, all whilst sharing her personal interpretations of everything we were seeing.  I was ready to stab her after 5 minutes and myself after 10.  She  NEVER SHUT UP. Which just goes to show you, assholes don’t have to be male or geniuses. Anyway, back to the male geniu