It was carnival time, 2012. I had been searching for the home of my dreams for months, looking to move back to New Orleans from New York, and I was coming up short. So far, nowhere captured my attention, matched my whimsy, or looked quite like I had imagined. No house had yet leaned out across its garden, taken me playfully by the waist, and whispered: “You belong here”.  

But then, it happened: on a sunny March morning I was strolling down Royal Street.

And there was Wonderland.

She had elegant Grecian columns framing a wide front porch, perfect for Sunday afternoon tea parties. She had a Colonial entryway with an etched glass front door under a perfect lunette, ideal for throwing open to welcome the Spring breeze and passersby. And she had soaring ceilings and spacious rooms, destined for spontaneous dance parties, tiny piano solos, and late-night divinations. As I stepped inside for the first time, I was struck by an overwhelming sense of deja vu. Much later I would learn that her past gatherings were infamous at the turn of the last century, her rooms contained their fair share of ghosts, and that I would be forever changed by our creative time together... but I knew right then that this House and I were a perfect match. 

In 24 hours, when I knew she would be mine, I began to imagine our intricate future together. As I dreamed of poets reading their work aloud under the crepe myrtle in the backyard, the harmony of happy murmurs and clinking china in the parlor, and music cascading into every corner it could reach, the House interrupted to offer one aside. In a tiny voice that was almost my own, Wonderland whispered: “Welcome home”.

And so, we welcome you as well.

Love, Stacy

To learn more about the history of this amazing house and property, click the HISTORY button!