A Million Ways to Do Mardi Gras

I guess I’m taking a day off to digress. Because it’s Mardi Gras and Mardi Gras is too great not to share. If you’re from somewhere besides New Orleans, it’s possible you think Mardi Gras is lifting one’s shirt in return for plastic beads in the midst of a baying and unruly crowd. You may also think it’s a sloppy and drunken event resembling a twenty-four-hour fraternity party, and that you’d never be interested in such a thing. Actually, both notions are entirely correct. But you’ve got a blind man/elephant thing going on here.

The truth is, Mardi Gras varies by the block. Even by the household. Say you’re out running the streets. On St. Charles Avenue, you’ll see your families watching the parades, the little kids sitting on ladders with homemade benches built on top, and just about nobody in costume. Go to the lake side of the avenue and you might get a glimpse of Mardi Gras Indians These are…well, it can’t really be explained here.  Suffice it to say they’re the most amazingly costumed individuals you’re ever going to see, at Mardi Gras or anywhere else. For more info, check out  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mardi_Gras_Indianshttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mardi_Gras_Indians  

 Or better yet, watch Treme,   http://www.hbo.com/treme/index.html , David Simon’s  excellent HBO show set in New Orleans.

Move on to the French Quarter, and there’ll be a new Mardi Gras around every corner.  Here, unlike Uptown, everyone’s in costume except the tourists. On upper Bourbon, you have your tourist Carnival, the one with the beads and boobs (possible pun intended). On lower Bourbon, you have the Bourbon St. Awards , http://www.gaymardigras.com/bbb.htm    the gay costume event. Uh, wait. Did I say the Indians were…okay, the Indian suits are folk art; museum pieces. They’re beautiful, artistic,  and jaw-droppingly original. These guys’ outfits are some of those things too, and funny to boot. But so far as I know, no museum exhibits them. Maybe they should.

But the real delight is in the tiny marching groups, the neighbors or friends who get together to form their own themed mini-parade, like one I just read about (but haven’t yet seen) called the Krewe of Red Beans http://topics.nola.com/tag/redbeans%20krewe/photos.html      . They make elaborate costumes out of red beans, in partial homage to the Mardi Gras Indians.

Here’s my Mardi Gras: Up at eight o’clock to squeeze into the costume, slather on the make-up, comb out the wig of the moment (I have five so far and this year, I’m going with the green.) Then, mimosas in hand, my demon lover and I sally forth to wait for the Society of St, Anne  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EHg7ZUtKVsUhttp://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EHg7ZUtKVsU , the most beautiful parade of all. This one—no floats, just gorgeously costumed marchers--looks like a medieval pageant. It’s a neighborhood tradition to wait for it in front of the R bar on Royal Street. EVERYONE’S there. But you can’t tell who they are.

Now about the demon lover—actually, he’s my handsome husband on normal days, and, unlike his restless spouse, he wears the same thing every Mardi Gras: A strange and somewhat fearsome mask; a black cape (he has a selection, but I like the purple-lined one) and—this is the main thing—his special Mardi Gras whip. You’d be amazed at the number of ladies—and quite a few gentlemen—just dying to indulge in horseplay with a man with a whip. Which is what he loves about the outfit. Mardi Gras is all about horseplay. Having silly, spontaneous fun with perfect strangers.

            With luck, Pix tomorrow!