This wonderful inn, on St. Charles Avenue across from Audubon Park was out of a storybook.  It was built in 1884 as a hotel for the World International and Cotton Exposition.  It felt like we were staying in a gracious old home, but without that B & B feeling that makes you feel like you're intruding and need to whisper. 

When in Rome (or New Orleans) you want to experience some of the historic flavor.  We weren't even in the French Quarter, but we still got a feel for the festive history of Mardi Gras.  Throughout the inn there were colorful prints of the parade floats going far back. 

It was a warm August afternoon when we arrived.  We climbed the porch stairs and entered the grand hallway with 12 foot ceilings.  Even before days of air-conditioning I imagine there was a nice flow of air through the windows.  Our room turned out to be conveniently located right beside the dining room.   

Again, there was a nice mix. Cozy old house meets classy hotel.  The  lobby desk was located beside the staircase, with a glow of yellow light coming through the stained glass.  We had spoken with our hostess Lorie on the phone earlier and she seemed downright delighted to have us. She showed us our room and the dining area with complimentary wine, snacks and breakfast in the morning.  We were starting to relax.

We could have pulled up chairs in the dining room to enjoy some of the complimentary wine, but we were a little too eager to make use of the front porch.  

Yes, we did have a ukulele with us.  It's not every day that you can stay in a hotel and strum a ukulele tune on a porch... across from Audubon Park!

Celebrating!

Our bathroom was less comical than the one we'd had the night before. This one had a great shower and spotless black and white tile.  The toilet was new and did not run all night and it was NOT housed inside an antique phone booth. 

Morning
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We had a great night's sleep. I even turned on the very fun "noise machine" to crickets.  The evening before, Lorie had insisted we invite Scott and Chali for breakfast, which was beyond nice.  We ate a lovely meal with peacock feathers in the vases and soft classical music playing and a view of the park.  A sweet woman named Pam made sure everything was perfect. She said the small pastel colored hardboiled eggs were naturally colored and freshly gathered. There was a sausage and egg dish and stuffed French toast and homemade biscuits.  What a way to end our stay!

This purple and green building is what we saw when we turned down Dryades from Napoleon.  We parked and fumbled with the buzzer and intercom, while a few neighbors congregated on a porch nearby and waiters took a break at Pascal's Manale across the street.  I was sure these folks in the neighborhood were used to having some fun, evaluating the guests who arrived at The Dive.  

Wayne seemed a little weary.  He admitted he usually lets his more sociable wife greet the guests, but then he ended up giving us a 25 minute tour.  He showed us the antique bar and the beer stocked fridge that works on the honor system. He pointed out the domed "lamella" structure over the pool, which was quite a big deal in 1927.  He showed Don how to open the cover of the pool and then turned to me with a little chuckle,  "Just knock on my door when you're ready to swim. " By this time I had already winced at a few of his joking comments about the perks of owning a "clothing op" hotel.  I hated to inform him that I had no intention of nuding up, so I just asked more questions about the history.

Hotel Changes
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Some, like actor Dennis Quaid came because it was away from the crowds and nosy fans.  After a few years of ownership, an upper level was added. The costly addition was completed just before 9/11.  The plunge in tourism that followed caused the owners to search for a gimmick to attract customers.  That's when The Dive began catering to the nudist community.

Finding the Room!
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​I could have had better stories had we come on a busy weekend, when many return guests gather.

The woodwork and claw footed tub were pink. The toilet was enclosed in what was once a wooden phone booth.  The thick wood floors creaked underneath the carpets and a musty smell hung in the air.  But old sounds and smells are part of old hotels, so I was okay with that.

Wayne pointed out the tropical mural surrounding the bed.  He motioned to the wobbly bed post and explained,  "I think the woman last night thought she was Demi Moore doing a pole dance!"  (TMI, Wayne!) Wayne attempted to screw the post back in, but we found the wobbly thing a little precarious at bedtime...and removed it.

A Jungle in Nola
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Our suite actually included a little sitting room with stained glass windows, a tiny kitchen area and a back door to the "garden".  

You get a little dusty when you're 167 years old and filled with hard to dust knickknacks.  I have a feeling the nude crowd is willing to pay a little more for the privilege.  I didn't get my money's worth by nuding up, but I did enjoy the figures in the window above the door.  And I was entertained by counting the duck figures on the inside of the phone booth toilet.  I think there were 39.

Don got his money's worth by swimming laps before we checked out in the morning. Yes, he's wearing a suit, but he didn't have to.  I was too busy back in the room trying to figure out how to pull the curtain around the old tub for a shower.