Krewe Du Vieux Brings Ridicule and Raunch to French Quarter, Happily

By Sara Aboulafia

Hundreds were lined up along the streets and balconies of the French Quarter when the Krewe du Vieux pulled through the night of Saturday, January 20th. Bawdy costumes and brass music made even the most sober onlooker (had there been one) feel tipsy, as the crude Krewe strutted their stuff, pulling their elaborate floats behind them. But lest the laymen and women assume that the annual Carnival parade is simply an ode to Bacchanalia, a little clarification should set everything straight (but not narrow).

The Krewe du Vieux is a large Krewe, an organization which puts on a parade for the Carnival season that leads up to Mardi Gras. It is made up of several Sub Krewes which each build a float, a creative variation on the larger theme, this year’s being a rendition of Beatles’ hits called The Magical Misery Tour. A googly-eyed jester loomed over the lead float of this year’s parade, grinning like Mad Magazine’s Alfred E. Neuman in the face of destitution, a plastic “Spermes’ White Album” sitting next to him with a giant phallus for the needle. Formed in the 1980’s, the Krewe is renowned not just for its dirty humor and camp, but for its searing political satire – the two, for the Krewe, go hand in hand.

Since Hurricane Katrina, the Krewe have had an overwhelming amount of material to work with - corrupt politicians, their corporate buddies, and the city they left behind being the mainstay of the floats. Mayor Ray Nagin, who has been accused of being too chummy with corporate interests, was the pawn of one float which depicted him as a yellow and pink chicken. Another float had Nagin’s head plastered onto a pirate’s body atop a vessel which read “Abandon Ship.”
For all the parade’s so called “vulgar acts” - its darting sperm-like figures, myriad foam phalluses and flashing plastic nipples - it was those who have neglected New Orleans’ residents in one way or another who were ultimately the ones shamed. People like former Governor Blanco and recently resigned District Attorney Eddie Jordan were targets of the Krewe’s ire; one large bass drum read “Sgt. Eddie’s Only Honkeys Banned,” a reference to Jordan’s infamous decision to fire all white employees when he first got into office.

“Shitty Hall” dominated another float; small flies gathered on the green and purple windows, and dollar bills slid from the building into the pile of excrement below. From that filth sprung psychedelic mushrooms, and behind the float people danced with ‘shroom hats and signs that advised viewers to “Drop Acid, Not The Ball.” A mock handgun towered above another float, the startling number of people murdered since Katrina displayed on markers below. A sign read “Every Murder is A Nail in This City’s Coffin,” and dolls and images of children were placed around the float with guns in their hands – a warning for the city’s future if the crime rate continues to escalate.

A wrecking ball hovered between two Lafitte Project buildings in another float, preparing to destroy. A sign read “Lafitte De-Housed” and “HANO Property For Sale to Highest Bidder.” An Indian Chief’s head loomed over the public housing complex soon to be demolished, a glaring reminder of the Trail of Tears, the devastating forced relocation of the Cherokee Nation to the American West 170 years ago. But at the parade, even solemn metaphors were ignited by dance. Music played, people grooved and leaped down the road, moving their bodies not by force, but by choice, and by tradition.