As a lover of writing and simple aesthetics, I’ve decided it’s time to gather all the pieces of my journey—My Rustic Life, Our Farmhouse, and Life Lately—into one central space. This is where I’ll tell the stories behind the aesthetic, share my fiction, and feature other writers I admire.
But now, for the real story.
My defining moment came when I moved across the country for college: New Orleans, or NOLA as we quickly learned to call it.
Even under the pressing, humid blanket of the Southern heat, NOLA was a place of profound discovery. It was here I found a version of myself I never could have anywhere else—a self utterly captivated by history, flavor, and faded elegance.
I can still close my eyes and smell the sweet, fried dough of beignets dusted with powdered sugar at Cafe Du Monde, and the vinegary brine of the pickles sliced for a Po’boy. Those local shops took immense pride in the crusty, flawless bread they served; truly, the bread made the sandwich.
TIP: Don’t inhale when you take a bite of your beignet!
My roommate became my official city guide, leading me through the essential veins of the city: Tchoupitoulas, Magazine Street, Algiers, and Treme. Each neighborhood offered a different beat, a different shade of history.
Shops of the Colonnade
It was on one unforgettable outing that she introduced me to the Shops of the Colonnade, the gateway to the legendary French Market.
This series of vibrant shops spans six blocks from the French Quarter and houses the oldest public market of its kind in the entire United States.
When you step through the colonnade, you push aside the modernity of the present day and step directly into a 230-year-old tradition.
Forget dates and names for a moment; what you experience is the pulse of history.
You walk into the famous Flea Market, an incredible maze of treasures where you might find a delicate piece of lace from the 1920s. Or perhaps a metal canteen, possibly dating back to the Civil War.
It’s where history isn’t just displayed behind glass—it’s right there in your hands, waiting to be repurposed.
Since 1791, the French Market has served as the living, breathing heart of New Orleans. It has been built, destroyed by fire, and faithfully rebuilt countless times, yet the core spirit has never wavered.
The deep-rooted spirit of commerce, community, and culture has remained the central, beautiful purpose of it all.
That moment—finding those faded, historic pieces in the French Market—was the seed for my rustic aesthetic. It taught me that the best part of any decor is the story it carries.
Welcome to the introduction of the new section, Featured, and I hope you enjoyed this trip to the French Market in New Orleans!
Until Next time
Christina
