Lafitte’s Blacksmith Shoppe

A historic bar at the quiet end of Bourbon. From the outside Lafitte’s looked like it was the home of the first pig and the wolf just hadn’t blown it down yet. In fact it looks like a good breeze could blow it down. From the inside, it offered the perfect view of Bourbon Street as horse carriages would routinely pull up and order drinks to go, not for the horses, but the tourists taking the comfortable tour around town. Hurricanes were the drinks of choice, but after experiencing a few across the local bars, I’d rate Lafitte’s at about a category 3. Lafitte’s did however provide the most friendliest bartender I’ve ever met and probably will ever meet. Genesha [spelling? I have enough trouble trying to pronounce it let alone spell it], we nicknamed her ‘Smilely’. Smilely could tell you the worst possible news, but would speak through a constant smile in such a way that somehow whatever she said would just sound pleasant. Not that she had bad news for us, other than our bar tab, but I wondered if she ever got annoyed by anything, or if she was to get really mad did she go from a smile to a grin? Even her cat getting run over by a car came out from behind a smile. If her words could be seen, like on screen where you could sing along, they’d all be in the treble clef, no bass notes, and butterfly’s or hummingbirds flying around them. They’d be colored light blue, not black, maybe even flourescent.

Built before 1772, Lafitte’s is one of the oldest if not the oldest building in the Mississippi valley. It survived the devastating New Orleans fires of 1788 and 1794 and shows the architecture common in the original French trading post before the Spanish rebuilt the city in Creole style. Jean Lafitte and his brother operated the blacksmith shop as a front for their various illegitimate enterprises.

Lafitte’s, on the corner of Bourbon and St Phillip Street is couple block stagger from the hustle and bustle of the majority of the nightlife in the French Quarter, but for an establishment at this end of Bourbon, it pulls in a large crowd. New Orleans gives you the opportunity of a short stumble from one pub to the next, more than many other places on earth, but Lafitte’s stands alone, away from all, so order one for take out. If they question you, which they won’t, just tell ’em “it’s for the horse”.

No electric lighting to help you find your beer, no ugly wiring to spoil the wooden beam ceiling, tea lights instead provide the only indication of the position of rickety tables as you navigate the bar area, and the place takes on more of a rustic than a condemned air. According to some award advertised at the bar, this is the “most romantic bar” in New Orleans. That fact, I believe, is from the combination of alcohol and low lighting. The lyrics from a couple songs come to mind; “…she’s looking better every beer…”, and “dim lights, thick smoke,…”. You might be led to believe that in the quest for authenticity, they haven’t even bothered with electricity yet, were it not for the air-conditioning generating an authentic dank.