30
MY
ROUSES
EVERYDAY
JANUARY | FEBRUARY 2014
A
s the weeks-long Mardi Gras season approaches its big
day, conversations invariably turn to costumes and Fat
Tuesday proper. At random dinners, crawfish boils or other
celebratory gatherings, friends start inquiring about progress on
themes, inspiration and progress on this year’s Mardi Gras getup.
For certain folks in the city, it’s one of many chances (arguably the
biggest) to play grown-up dress-up with thousands of like-minded
individuals.
Did you get that wig you were looking at? Wher can I score a rainbow
tutu? I’m thinking about an “Archbishop Desmond” riff. You gonna use
that purple satin cape from last year? If not, can I borrow it? We’re going
as the Seven Deadly Sins, and I’m covering
Sloth AND Gluttony. Last year I went as Sexy
Lebowski, but I got these bird-feather false
eyelashes and some of that new micro-glitter, so
I’ll make something work….
And every year if asked about MY costume,
I’ve got the same response: “I’ll going as
Guy with the Camera.”
Admittedly, it’s kind of boring from a
“dramatic street cred” angle, but from my
perspective, it’s the most exciting thing in
the world.
For local fans of street photography,
Mardi Gras Day is the busiest day on the
calendar. As carnival comes to its rollicking
climax, many of the city’s distinctive street
traditions — some going back centuries,
some comparatively new — are on display
simultaneously for one day only. And if
you’re gonna catch it all, it requires an
early start, a whole lotta drive, and the
willingness to schlep forty pounds of gear
for about twelve hours.
The day usually starts tracking down the
Mardi Gras Indian tribes that come out
on one of their few annual appearances.
Around sunup on Fat Tuesday, you might
be across the Industrial Canal looking for
the Ninth Ward Comanche Hunters in this
year’s new suits. Early in the morning, the
tribe starts their day with the traditional
singing of “Indian Red,” the drum-driven
chant that introduces the members of the
Hunters for the day ahead. Around the
circle, the various members are singled out
— Spyboy, Wildman, Flagboy, Big Queen
and of course, Big Chief — to show off
the elaborate constructions they’ve spent a
year constructing — bead by bead, stone
by stone, feather by feather. After months
of work, the Hunters come together with
family and friends — many of whom
helped them build the suits — and take
to the streets, looking for other gangs to
the driving percussive thump of drum and
tambourine.
Heading back upriver, it’s time to catch the parading portion of the
program. The starting lineup for the Zulu Social Aid and Pleasure
Club never fails to be an amazing experience. The largest African
American parading organization rolls before Rex on Mardi Gras
morning, and the lineup on Claiborne provides a chance to see
Buffalo soldiers, resplendent queens, strutting Baby Dolls, and
of course, The Big Shot and Mr. Big Stuff in all their glory. Add
to this the sight and thundering sound of The Saint Augustine
Marching 100, and it’s a powerful way to greet the morning. The
hometown crowds hope to score the signature throw with screams
of “COCONUT!! PLEEEASE!!” as Zulu rolls into Central City.
All On A
Mardi Gras Day
by
Pableaux Johnson +
photos by
Pableaux Johnson
