Mardi Gras in New Orleans goes toe-to-toe with Christmas for the heavyweight title of “most wonderful time of the year”. The typically month long extravaganza is an ode to shenanigans of many kinds and the longer you live here the more you find yourself investing in costuming. With the controversy surrounding it being identified as the OG super spreader event last year, given its necessity for people to gather in large groups and breathe their internal, often alcohol-fuelled, exhaust all over each other, Mardi Gras 2021 was another casualty of Covid-19. But as always, the phoenix rose from the flames again and found a responsible and appropriate way to execute the ultimate in costuming and get festive beyond most mere mortals’ imaginations.
The phenomenon was dubbed Yardi Gras. It was a collaborative middle finger to the bitter disappointment that Mardi Gras as we know and adore it was not to be. Thousands of residents city wide went to extraordinary effort and expense to decorate the facades of their homes and front yards in the spirit and style of our longed-for friend in absentia, the parade float. The most extravagant and grandiose of all house floats could be found Uptown, along the oak tree-lined opulence that is St. Charles Avenue. Whether we’re talking about a life size Brachiosaurus, a menagerie of circus animals or a gargantuan cast of local music legend Dr. John, some of these enthusiasts were not playing around, and there were instances where cranes had to be involved in assembly. Yardi Gras became a weapon of choice for revellers in the battle against this holiday becoming a collective navel-gazing exercise and stopped some of us from falling into the chasm of a wound left in our glitter-dusted hearts. Parents with gasping kids on shoulders strolled along the Avenue, and while the rubbernecking and subsequent traffic might have caused a barely suppressed meltdown here or there, the peaceful energy of community was palpable even if it looked and sounded almost unrecognisable from the norm. And while the economic impacts of this year that wasn’t will be felt for who knows how long, Yardi Gras at least provided artists who would normally be working at warp speed to decorate parade floats, with a much-needed chance for expression, creativity and earning income.
Across town in Uptown’s less ostentatious cousin, the Miss Congeniality award was handed out, to the house floats of the beautiful Bywater neighbourhood. On a Sunday afternoon with spirit-lifting blue skies, my dear and masked friend Merry and I wandered the streets and marvelled in a sense of positivity you could physically feel. The warmth that was barrelling through me just from being outside and hearing a quartet rehearsing in a front yard was not something I had expected to feel. Our agenda-less itinerary took us past murals and outdoor dining as we criss crossed our way along to bask in the famed sunny side of the street. We distanced at a garage sale on a sidewalk and at a quick stop at Pepp’s, a watering hole where furry canine friends are in charge, and is named after the pup in residence. But the Emerald City at the end of this yellow brick road was the house float dedicated to past and present trailblazers of Georgia who were pivotal in turning the house, the senate and the Presidential election the way of the blue after a red dominance in the state since the post-Clinton era. The relentless dedication of these extraordinary people is the very definition of making a difference and their efforts are an inspirational and indisputable chapter of history when the stakes were unbearably high. As sequin speckled homeowner Carol explained, while she’s not from Georgia, decorating her abode was a mark of gratitude and a way to support local artists.
It’s difficult sometimes to visualise a time when the plague won’t dominate conversation. But when you come to the realisation you’re a certain age and you have an area in your home dedicated to costuming that houses wigs, a monk’s robe, tutus, fairy wings, devil horns and a mermaid jumpsuit, it makes things a little bit easier. Mardi Gras Day is typically the crescendo of elation after the endurance test of multiple costume changes, parades, parties, long treks due to road closures, poor food choices, too much alcohol and general exhaustion. This year it felt like just another Tuesday but even at the height of defeat and self pity that afternoon, I could hear a neighbour playing guitar. A slow and familiar-sounding tune, with a hint of mourning. Not surprisingly, the open sorrow of this brought me back up a little and I was mildly hopeful again.
The Last Bohemian City 