Mardi Gras U.

You live, you learn, you see familiar, um, things from a new angle

Last month, I made it back to Mardi Gras for the first time in three years. It felt like it had been much longer and I needed a day or two to tap into my usual Carnival spirit. Some locals I know sometimes skip Mardi Gras, leaving town if they can, and I now understand that mindset. Perhaps that’s because I’ve been spending more time in the city I consider my second home, including a quiet span in early January and the first week of February.¹ The sudden surge of people in local restaurants, my neighborhood grocery store, along Magazine Street caught me off-guard when I returned February 12. It was odd to head out for my sunrise walk and see people camped along the St. Charles parade route. But I quickly got my groove back.

This was 2023, when I was queen of Mama Roux

I went to my first Mardi Gras in 2001. And like many a newbie before me, I scoffed at the idea that I would raise my arms in supplication to masked strangers throwing cheap plastic beads. Minutes later, I had my arms up, screaming: “Throw me something, Mister!” Mardi Gras has that effect on people. It is hedonism distilled, yet I realized this year that it also had a few practical life lessons to offer.

1. Thinking outside the box is great, but there’s something to be said for staying inside your box — if it’s constructed with intent.

I am lucky enough to live within walking distance of the majority of the parade routes, a great perk — unless you want to go somewhere. On Valentine’s Day, although the parades were long over and I had scheduled a Lyft in advance, my daughter and I were ghosted for our ride to our now traditional Galentine’s dinner. That’s because we live inside “the box,” which can be inaccessible to anyone outside the box. A second driver arrived, a cheerful local — in New Orleans, almost all Lyft/Uber drivers are cheerful locals — who explained that his Mardi Gras strategy was staying inside the box for the duration of the night, which meant shorter/cheaper trips, but a higher volume and no traffic headaches. My daughter and I ended up dissolving into laughter as he happily rejected ride after ride that didn’t meet his criteria. “Nope! Nope! Nope! I’ll get what I want eventually.” And he did!

Again, just a delightful person. But he also reminded me that it’s not a bad idea at times to define your comfort zone — and stay in it. A few days later, approached for a lucrative speaking deal, I didn’t jump at it right away, but asked for details re: travel, the true time commitment involved. It’s good money, but in a difficult-to-access place; I’ve been paid more to give talks 10-20 minutes from my house. (All my speaking fees go to the my local library system, so you can’t be mad at me for being focused on the bottom line.)² I asked the lovely people who made the offer to consider inviting me in 2027 when I’ll be on book tour.

2. Work with what you’ve got:

   My long-standing practice when I’m in New Orleans on Mardi Gras day is to roll out of bed, check the weather, then assemble a costume from what I have on hand. Granted, the items were purchased at some point — I march in Krewe du Vieux, other people in my household have bought things over the years — but I like a grab-bag look that costs me nothing. Except, perhaps, my dignity.

   Here’s how this year turned out. It includes a headdress I bought in 2019; a wig from god knows when; a necklace from my 2023 KdV turn as Queen of Mama Roux; my “weed” boa from KdV 2012; fishnet hose from KdV 2018; my actual PJ’s, a polka dot camisole-and-boxers set; a silk robe from an Emmy’s gifting suite.³ I took this idea of repurposing back to the work-in-progress, focusing on what was already there, developing deeper, more complex biographies for the approximately 90,000 characters in it. (OK, it’s not quite 30.)

Cost of Mardi Gras costume: $0. Experience: Pricelss.

3. But if you want to be a star, planning is essential.

   I spent Mardi Gras with two friends I met through my ex-husband’s ex-wife. A. is a local and D. has been coming to Mardi Gras longer than I have, I think. They executed the kind of high-concept look that had people begging for their photograph as we followed the St. Anne Walking Parade: Andy Warhol and one frame of his Marilyn Monroe diptych. Their commitment to detail was laudable — note the yellow of the wig, the pink make-up, the Campbell’s Soup bag. Not everyone got it, but those who did screamed in delight.

   

   Aren’t they brilliant?

   Other great costumes seen at St. Anne’s that day: A “tiki bar” — men dressed as giant tropical drinks, accompanied by a drinks trolley — a recreation of Bad Bunny’s Super Bowl halftime performance, and a lot of “NICE” agents. I also saw a novelist wearing the cover of her next book.⁴

   

   The cover copy is great, by the way. I would totally read this book.

   And then there was the brilliant father who managed to combine “work with what you’ve got” with “planning ahead/high-concept,” using a coiled sleeping bag to transform his daughter into a snail, who handed out little envelopes marked as “snail mail.” I DIED when she delivered one to me.

   

   The world’s cutest snail and her snail mail

4. Try a new perspective.

   The friends with whom I took in the St. Anne parade allowed me to tag along to a private party at a bar on Bourbon Street and, for the first time ever, I found myself on a second-floor balcony, tossing beads to people below. And, yes, I saw a lot of breasts! (They were not intended for me, but for others on the balcony, which included a bachelor party from California.)⁵ I tossed beads to kids, older women, goofily earnest men, and anyone who made really good eye contact. I don’t think I’ve ever spent a Mardi Gras on Bourbon before, but I had a blast.

5. Finally, there’s no shame in promoting others’ (better) work:

   Here are two excellent essays about Mardi Gras 2026 by real New Orleanians, Bradley Warshauer and Peter Adrastos Athas. And while I’m giving credit where it’s due — the portrait of me in my pink wig was taken by my friend D.; A. took the photograph of the world’s cutest snail.

   

   Ghosts of Mardi Gras (and KdV) Past. That "weed" boa has lasted more than a decade now.

Read/reading: Eros the Bittersweet, Anne Carson; Evensong, Stewart O’Nan; Murderland, Carolyn Frasier (audio); Character Limit, Kate Conger and Ryan Mac (audio); Mona Acts Out, Mischa Berlinski (audio).

Rereading: The Boyfriend School, Sarah Bird; Victory over Japan, Ellen Gilchrist; The 158-pound Marriage, John Irving.

Me, me, me: Murder Takes a Vacation was mentioned in a terrific O magazine piece about books centering on older women.

I am one of two finalists for the Libby in the mystery category. Winners will be announced today and I expect to lose, but it was truly an honor to be shortlisted.

There’s still time to see me at AWP March 6 with my friend of THIRTY-PLUS YEARS, Sujata Massey, with Angie Kim (also a friend!) moderating. Will Sujata and I finally tell the story of what happened on a highway outside Saratoga Springs, NY, in 1997? Maybe! Just need to see if the statute of limitations has passed. (You do have to be a registered attendee to see this.)

Don’t forget to enter the monthly drawing for the Mystery Box, a dozen books culled from my shelves. Just send your email to: Lauralippmanauthor@gmail.com with “Mystery Box” in the subject field, and you will be entered into the monthly drawing.

1. Technically part of Mardi Gras, but it was only when the weekend arrived that I began to notice the influx of tourists.

2. Speechmaxxing?

3. I have lived a life, y’all.

4. I’d rather kill myself, but she was adorable.

5. Breasts look quite interesting from that angle. Who knew?