Grandiosity, check. Antiques everywhere. High ceilings. Elaborate breakfast. Check, check, check, all here. The real difference is in the experience, and the hosts. You could spend your entire visit chatting with them about New Orleans, art, travel, history, and whatever far-flung topics arise. They’re interesting and interested, which describes much of New Orleans’ population, but now you’re at home with them (home being an 1830s Esplanade Avenue glamour gal, the former “party home” to a wealthy plantation family, now tarted up to the nines). Quibblers (Instagram posters of scuffed baseboard shots—who probably shouldn’t come to a 300-year-old city) will find things to complain about. The anachronistic, 1970s bathrooms are ho-hum, for starters. But there are loaner bikes to get you to the nearby French Quarter or City Park. And when you step into the dreamy, moss-hung backyard, with its hot tub and secret garden, magic begins.