Lavinia Spalding
In the Marigny neighborhood of New Orleans, April Blevins Pejic sits at her dining room table staring down a high-heeled white pleather ankle boot and 40 jars of glitter. Pejic is mulling over how best to embellish the boot, which she’ll ultimately place into the outstretched hands of an ecstatic and probably screaming stranger. She takes the task seriously, wiping glue off the boot three times before choosing a color scheme (shades of gold) and pattern (wide stripes). When she finally gets down to business, the result is a dazzling disco boot. This is not her first Mardi Gras rodeo.
(photo credit: April Blevins Pejic)
The New York Times, Modern Love: How I Learned to Trust (Some) Men
The New York Times, Modern Love: “Goodbye, My Fantasy Man”
AFAR Magazine: “Playing by Heart” (Winner of a Gold Lowell Thomas Award)
Longreads: “The Cabin”
River Teeth: A lot of Tomorrows
Going: New Orleans, The Southern US City Where Jazz Was Born
Parents: I Grew Up in a Haunted House—Here’s What I Tell My Child About Ghosts
AFAR: Seoul Food
Off Assignment, Letter to a Stranger: “To the Shopkeeper in Fez”
The Bold Italic: “Working Three Jobs Nearly Killed Me”
AirBnB Magazine: “So I Slept in a ...Cave”
AAA Westways Magazine: “Korean Encore”
AFAR.com: “Everything You Need to Know About Jazz Fest”
AFAR.com: “The Art of Eating Crawfish in New Orleans”
AFAR.com: “Find New Orleans’s Soul at These 6 Mini-Museums”
Ms. Magazine: “Politics is on the Menu at Hell’s Backbone Grill”
AirBnB Magazine: “New Orleans for the Celebratory”
Off Assignment, Letter to a Stranger: “To the one who was supposed to get away”
I wasn’t willing to settle for less than kismet. But chasing a romantic illusion nearly kept me from finding love. -- The night I agreed to try online dating, I told my roommate Meghan I hoped I wouldn’t meet anyone because that wasn’t the kind of story . . .
We are at the dinner table when my young son asks, “The day after a lot of tomorrows, will we build a treehouse?” I want to scoop him in my arms, this boy so eager and fresh, so tall his forehead meets my shoulder. If I could, I would lift his body above . . .
I still clearly remember my first meal in South Korea. I had just arrived in the country, fresh out of college and ready to begin a job teaching English. My new boss had whisked me from the airport to a barbecue restaurant, where I’d watched in panic as . . .
. . .