Twice delayed due to the threat of thunderstorms, Super Sunday finally happened on an absolutely perfect day. If you've been following my work for any amount of time, you know that Super Sunday is one of my favorite days in the city. Legend has it that the tradition of dressing up as Indians goes back to the late 1800's, out of respect for the Indians who would help the runaway slaves of the south. Whether that's true or not I don't think anyone knows, but it makes for a great story. For a while there it was quite a violent affair, but in recent years has been transformed into a competition of beauty. Thanks Tootie.
But my love for this day goes far beyond the insanely beautiful suits and awesome tradition. (And they are beautiful. They cost thousands of dollars and take an entire year to make...they are truly art.) Perhaps more than anything else, it's about the community coming out and celebrating the beauty together. It doesn't matter who you are. Old/young...black/white...tourist/local...hipster/hippie...it don't matter. Everyone has a smile on their face. Everyone is happy. Everyone is a New Orleanian. And that, good reader, is a thing of beauty.
Enjoy the photos. Twas a Super Sunday indeed.
I met Wendell Pierce out there, just watching the Indians. He could not have been nicer. He seemed truly excited to talk to me, a complete stranger.
This picture is what it's all about.
This explains a lot...
Until next year...