Like so many others, the mother and the insurance manager knew inside that the week-long party would take 2021 off. Partygoers of all ages packed at least three depths along routes that meandered for miles seemed like the classic antithesis of social detachment.
“So, I kind of made a comment: ‘Well, okay, I’m just going to decorate my house,'” said Boudreaux, who invited his neighbors to turn their houses into stationary versions of the ornate floats that populate the four or so dozens of parades that take place in the city each year. That way, she imagined, the partygoers could stay 2 meters away while visiting abroad and enjoying the art of the annual countdown to Lent.
The idea, like a string of beads thrown into the sky towards an endless crowd of revelry, spread.
There is a house with a sign that says, “Welcome to Wakanda.” Another brings the theme Night Tripper in honor of funkman Dr. John. One house pays homage to a health professional alongside giant ivory beads. On a balcony, a cutout from the late chef Leah Chase is standing, spoon in hand, in a huge pot. Right off the St. Charles Avenue tram line, a giant model of a dinosaur in a top hat. Elsewhere, a setting pays homage to Alex Trebek with a “Jeopardy!” board, playable using a posted QR code. Human-sized Lego dolls approach a float rolling through parades on a porch. A two-man-wide wooden pelican perches on each other.
Throughout the city, papier-mache or cardboard and aluminum foil flowers of all shades, in addition to purple, green and gold pennants and beads of beads the size of beach balls, adorn the houses where so many have been fleeing the coronavirus since not long after last Mardi Gras. That was when 1.5 million people – including international visitors – converged on the city, almost certainly fueling the viral spread that made the region an initial hot spot.
In fact, the icons of purple and white houses that dot a map on the Krewe of Float Houses website cover the entire main footprint of the city like a sidewalk full of doubloons, those collectible coins thrown by passengers in traditional floats.
“In essence, it’s not much different than when people drive with children in the car and look at the Christmas decorations, the holiday lights,” said Doug MacCash, who narrated the movement of the floats to the local newspaper, The Times -Picayune | The New Orleans Advocate. “Except this year, in 2021, it has a spirit of triumph, a spirit of defiance. It’s like, ‘Sorry’, rona. We’re not just giving up. ‘”
“Mardi Gras is by no means dead; it’s just different,” said Councilman Jay Banks, who shaped his own house – already painted in yellow and black – with other trademark representations from the Zulu Social Aid & Pleasure Club, the most prominent Black Carnival Organization, of which he once reigned as king.
“And what we’re forced to do on this Mardi Gras, with Covid as the number one consideration, … is how this whole house float thing started,” he said. “And let me tell you, I’m just laughing about it.”
How to turn your home into a float
Do-it-yourselfers – many already armed with hot glue and glitter guns in gallons to make annual Mardi Gras costumes – have taken the home design effort seriously. Two private Facebook groups with more than 14,000 participants launch questions at any time, most answered quickly by a hive mind eager to collaborate after months of requests to stay home.
“Any recommendations on how to protect this? It’s too heavy,” asked a poster, referring to a photo of a homemade Lysol can several feet high.
On the other: “Has anyone been lucky enough to use cardboard to make floating decorations? I used it a little and painted and sealed it with mod podge acrylic sealant, but I’m wondering how it will look on the elements of a French Quarter balcony! There’s a better way waterproofing, etc.? “
The exchange is no different from the gloomy months after Hurricane Katrina in 2005, when neighbors began exchanging recipes for bleach or baking soda mixtures to remove mold from dirty items by the flood.
Others, who seek to brown their homes, resorted to a regional home industry built over decades precisely for this type of enterprise.
“Part of the dismay over the cancellation of Carnival had to do with, well, there are people (for) that (m) Carnival is their livelihood – many people: float builders, beads and costume makers,” said MacCash. “Some of the carnival artists who found themselves without work in what would have been a really difficult period, what they did is they found jobs decorating houses.”
In a normal year, René Pierre would more or less now be finishing the books on about 75 floats that his company, Crescent City Artists LLC, decorates using light canvas, shiny house paints, hardcover, wood and Styrofoam, he said.
This year, the vision of Boudreaux’s float, which Pierre captured in a local story, proved to be his “ticket out” of a moderate carnival – and which follows the recovery of him and his young daughter from Covid-19.
“Oh, man, in about three weeks, we were all busy today,” Pierre said last week of his home decor clients. “My wife and I were trying to sleep one night, and we were still hearing notifications coming from the website. It was like, ‘Ping ping ping ping ping.’ It was like, ‘Oh, my God.’ It was like an instant success. It was amazing.”
The couple signed 53 float contracts ranging from $ 1,500 to $ 3,000 each, a sum that many cyclists from the largest groups parading in the city would normally spend on string beads and other “bids” to launch in a given year.
“It really boosted my business at full throttle,” said Pierre, noting that he hired his cousin, a musical artist, to help manage the passion. “We made more money in six weeks … and talked about the spirit of Mardi Gras.”
Among the orders, Pierre’s favorites are a trio of painted puppies made according to the homeowner’s package, a Buddha-themed display and one that highlights the dancing Grateful Dead bears.
Boudreaux, known as “Admiral B” of the domestic flotation fleet, appropriately made his home on a maritime motif. “I don’t know if I want to know how much I spent,” she said: “definitely more than I intended, less than many people.”
How to lead (or join) a krewe houseboat
In addition to his own decor, directing this nascent krewe (local vernacular for a festival group) became a second full-time job for Boudreaux. There are discussions with lawyers about decorating rules in historic neighborhoods and weekly logistics meetings with the mayor to decide how to deal with landlords who want to, say, hire a band. There are now 50 captains, 39 subkrewes, a communications team and an effort to gather and edit dozens of home videos of dancers in a performance masterpiece for the site.
Another to-do item was added shortly after the krewe named a New Orleans jumping star as his great marshal, said Boudreaux. “Now Big Freedia’s house is in a jam. The house is so popular that even in guerrilla photography style, it still attracts a crowd”, the only thing that House Floats’ Krewe urgently wants to avoid.
The krewe also launched a campaign to donate $ 100,000 to those facing unemployment and food and housing insecurity, largely because of the limits of this year’s carnival: artisans, service industry workers, musicians, Mardi Gras Indians and others culture carriers.
And, perhaps unsurprisingly, “this year sows the seed” for what is already becoming an annual event, to last long after the coronavirus is beaten, said MacCash. (At the last count, Pierre already had 28 home decor contracts set for 2022, and pre-registration is open for next year’s Krewe of House Floats.)
For now, Chris Volion is looking forward to safely welcoming Fat Tuesday, February 16, to the revelers who pass by his New Orleans home, adorned with huge black birds inspired by local crows and Edgar Allen Poe in his Krewe of Nevermore folks. Volion, an institutional research analyst, and his wife, Janet, are making some themed launches to distribute and plan to join neighbors for shots of king-cake-flavored gelatin.
“Although it looks different, there is still a lot of excitement,” he said. This year, instead of changing the plans of the parade, “the conversation changed to: Have you ever been in such and such a block or seen this house? It is so beautiful to see that the energy is still there.”
For Banks, the city councilor, floats offer a glimpse into an especially gloomy season. In his own circle, Covid-19 took 23 lives and killed 17 members of the Zulu organization, he said, not to mention family members and friends at the club. It took New Orleans – and the world – the chance to personally socialize and observe customs in the typical way.
But, as is often the case, he said, the city’s response in this dark moment offers a message far beyond its borders.
“We are showing the rest of you that there is light at the end of the tunnel,” said Banks. “As messy as Covid is, we are not going to let him defeat us. … The lesson of New Orleans to the world is: you play the cards you receive.”
