Celebrating My 50th in New Orleans (Because Obviously)
- Candice Moore
- 11 hours ago
- 5 min read
People tend to have strong feelings about New Orleans.
They either love it… or they hate it.
I have always been firmly in the love-it camp.
The first time I visited, I was eighteen and fresh off a fairly sheltered upbringing. Within approximately six minutes of walking down Bourbon Street, I had seen more breasts, public intoxication, casual drug use, and questionable hygiene choices than I had in my entire life combined. Women leaned out of doorways trying to lure us inside. Two college kids strolled past us leisurely, passing a joint between them while police officers followed a few steps behind without the slightest concern. Someone relieved themselves in a dark alley. Drinks were sold through sidewalk windows with zero interest in age verification.
I remember thinking, Well… this must be what hell looks like.
And yet, I was also strangely exhilarated.
Over the years, I’ve returned more than a dozen times. With each visit, my relationship with New Orleans has evolved — just as I have. I no longer wander down Bourbon Street (unless absolutely necessary). Now I find it obnoxious, touristy, almost intolerable. Instead, I lose myself along Royal Street during the day, drifting through antique shops and art galleries, pausing for cocktails along the way while feeling drenched in the live music that floats through the French Quarter.
At night, I feel the electric pull of Frenchmen Street, where the rhythm feels less like entertainment and more like the heartbeat of the locals.
What hasn’t changed is the way New Orleans makes me feel. It awakens something — a sultry energy, a sense that human complexity, indulgence, contradiction, and desire are not hidden but openly embraced. New Orleans holds space for nuance. For imperfection. For truth.
Which, when you’re turning fifty, all feels like the right kind of energy.
So when I began planning my “50 Things for 50” birthday adventures, there was never a doubt I'd choose to spend a weekend in New Orleans with some of my favorite peeps.
Gathering the Right People
In early December 2024, I gathered a group of friends — people who have known me through multiple chapters of life, who share my love for this city, and many of whom have made previous visits with me — and we headed to the Big Easy.
We stayed in a beautiful townhome on Gravier Street, just outside the French Quarter. Close enough to feel the hum of the city, but tucked away enough to serve as our own little sanctuary.
Friday night began with drinks and appetizers at the house, projecting the illusion of a respectable grown-up weekend away. From there we stepped into the velvet-drenched glamour of the Peacock Room for cocktails, followed by dinner at Gianna, where the energy was warm, vibrant, the food excellent, and the tone officially set for the weekend.
Wandering with Intention
Saturday unfolded in that perfectly unstructured way New Orleans seems to encourage. After a relaxed breakfast at the house, we made our way to the Carousel Bar — an iconic stop where day drinking becomes an art form and securing a seat at the famous rotating bar feels like a minor victory (even at 10:30am!).
Then came one of my favorite rituals: wandering Royal Street. Popping in and out of shops and galleries. Lingering wherever curiosity pulled us. We finally made it to Café Amelie for lunch which felt intimate and quietly magical.
The afternoon blurred into spontaneous stops and bar-hopping — including time in the historic Hermes Bar at Antoine’s, which quickly became a group favorite — equal parts elegant and delightfully stuck in another era. At one point, a woman swept
in wearing a completely fabulously ridiculous holiday themed costume — with all the confidence in the world. No one blinked. No one questioned it. In New Orleans, this level of commitment to personal expression feels entirely appropriate. Anything goes. It was a small but perfect reminder of why I love this city so much.
I also discovered a new favorite artist at the Angela King Gallery Royal Street— Mackenzie Thorpe. His work stopped me in my tracks. Emotional, whimsical, quietly powerful. The kind of art that makes you pause and feel something without fully understanding why. It felt fitting to encounter a new creative inspiration during a weekend dedicated to marking a personal milestone.
That evening, we returned to our city sanctuary for a private dinner prepared by Chef Gason Nelson. It was intimate, delicious, and felt like a true gift — a chance to slow down before the night inevitably swept us back into the pulse of the city.
A "Wild" Night Out
We ventured out again, starting at Coyote Ugly — ridiculous, wild, and exactly the kind of place where the night can take a playful turn. At some point, a handful of us found ourselves dancing on the bar, which felt less like a lapse in judgment and more like a very "on theme"
activity for the night we were pursuing.
Eventually, a smaller group of us made our way to Frenchmen Street, where the music was irresistible and the energy unmistakably alive. As the hours passed, people peeled off — as expected. By the very end, only a few of us remained, still chasing live music and late-night energy. Because in this season of life, uninhibited grown-up moments are rare and fleeting.
A Much More Chill Sunday
By Sunday morning, most of our friends headed home to return to their regular lives. Lorraine and I stayed one extra day — which felt like the perfect way to close the weekend.
We explored Mid-City, had lunch at Café Degas, and wandered through the sprawling beauty of New Orleans City Park. The pace was slower. The perfect exhale after a weekend of celebration.
That night we met up with my sister, Darcy and her boyfriend, Lamar, for a walking Vampire Tour of the French Quarter. Now, I'm not one that even watches scary movies, but no one does ghost & vampire tours quite as well as the folks in the French Quarter - the guides are so well versed in the history of the French Quarter that I walk away with such a wealth of knowledge (and only just a little bit creeped out).
Life is Meant to be Lived
There was something deeply meaningful about celebrating this milestone in a place that has been woven through so many chapters of my life.
New Orleans holds contradictions effortlessly. It is decadent and soulful. Wild and tender. Historic and rebellious. Familiar and ever-changing.
Turning fifty feels much the same.
I am less interested now in the superficial and more drawn to experience. Less captivated by the loudest rooms and more appreciative of the right company. More comfortable in my own complexity — and more accepting of the complexities in others.
New Orleans continues to remind me that life is not meant to be overly curated.
It is meant to be lived.
Preferably with good music, strong cocktails, and people who will still laugh with you the next morning.
