Review is tainted by romance.

When my man and I first moved into the Garden District last summer (while I was still a bartender) we moved into a pristine apartment with a gallery balcony which overlooked Chestnut street. Left in our room in an otherwise pristine apartment was a box of clutter left by the previous tenant. She left spoons, a rubber ducky, a hideous vase and five Anne Rice novels.

I spent most of the summer mornings on the balcony reading the Mayfair witches series, starting with The Witching Hour. Under the shade of the magnolia tree next to our balcony I could actually see "the Mayfair House" from my window - the house that Anne Rice used to own when she wrote the series on Chestnut and First. A perfect way to spend the summer. So cliche, so wonderful.

No balcony at my new place in Central City, but from my gallery windows I can see the bar that the Wild Magnolia Mardi Gras Indians practice and leave from on Mardi Gras morning and on St. Joseph's Day. Still a winner, just need a matching book.