
Rubbish and revelry: Can Mardi Gras go 'green'?
A successful Mardi Gras used to be measured by how much waste it produced. Now, the world's largest free festival is trying to clean up.
The mood is festive as I board the pink and purple Mardi Gras float. Beautiful glass beads hang from hooks lined up above my head while burlap bags full of sustainable "throws" – the local moniker for items thrown to parade viewers, including biodegradable glitter and colourful but sustainably packaged beignet mix – sit at my feet. A jaunty brass rendition of the song "Do whatcha wanna", a Mardi Gras classic, fills the air as marching bands do quick practice runs of their sets. The Krewe of Feret, the first Mardi Gras parade to completely outlaw plastic throws, is ready to roll, kicking off a party that is both one of the most beloved and one of the most environmentally damaging festivals in New Orleans.
The Mardi Gras revelry in this city is known the world over. New Orleans welcomes millions of visitors during carnival season and more than 50 parades roll down the main streets of St Charles and Canal. Local bars and music venues are packed to the walls with tourists while elaborate Mardi Gras balls and other events meant mostly for locals happen behind closed doors. All in all, nearly $900m in income comes from the festivities, according to a recent Economic Impact study – almost 4% of the city's annual revenue.
The celebration lasts for more than a month, with "local" parades like the dog-themed Barkus, where people dress their furry friends in Mardi Gras costumes and parade them through the French Quarter, rolling as early as three weeks before the final – and most famous – parades on "Fat Tuesday". These often include celebrity guests, massive floats and the iconic and ubiquitous plastic beads thrown by the handful into the crowds.
Unfortunately, all this fun also leads to an equal amount of rubbish. It's estimated that Mardi Gras creates around 1,000 tons of waste every year. In 2018, 93,000lb of plastic beads were found clogging up the city's sewer system, a dire situation in a city that lies partially below sea level and whose sewer systems are needed to keep the city dry. After the parades, rubbish can be knee-deep in the streets, and beads and streamers hang from trees like the Spanish moss native to the area. Though the city's Department of Sanitation does an almost miraculous job of cleaning the streets between parades, refuse still makes its way into the waterways in and around the city, posing a threat to both wildlife and people.
This year, however, a coalition of grassroots organisations, and individual "krewes", the local groups responsible for putting on the Mardi Gras parades, are attempting a transformation with the help of the city and some supportive sponsors. From massive recycling projects to biodegradable throws, New Orleans is doing its best to clean up its act.
A party with a toxic problem
According to a 2020 report by the Ecology Center, the plastic used to make Mardi Gras beads is toxic, containing high concentrations of arsenic, chlorine and lead. Further, the report found strong evidence that these beads are made from recycled e-waste, plastic from electronics treated with flame retardants. The sheer volume of beads that end up in the streets and sewers raises fears that these toxins will leach into their surroundings. Indeed, the areas around parade routes have already been found to have elevated lead levels and some of the chemicals found in the beads have been linked to increased cancer risk.
For a city that's both at major risk of flooding and located in what's known as Cancer Alley – an 85-mile stretch along the banks of the Mississippi River between New Orleans and Baton Rouge where residents have higher rates of cancer due to pollution from nearby petrochemical and manufacturing plants – continuing to throw a massive party that stands to increase the risk of both may seem ill advised. However, the tradition of cheap plastic throws in some ways fuels the entire event.
"It is the largest celebration in the world, but who pays for it?" asked Brett Davis, founding director of Grounds Krewe, one of the nonprofits spearheading the movement to make the festival more sustainable. "It's the parading organisations and the krewes themselves. They do it with membership dues, they do it with balls and fundraisers, but more and more over the last 20 years [they do it] by importing huge quantities of cheap parade throws and selling them to all the people in their krewe for like a 600% markup."
As Davis explains, the cheap beads are sold to locals or visitors who want to climb aboard a float and throw these trinkets to the crowds. And these sales fund the parades themselves, as it's the krewes, not the city, who put on Mardi Gras. A strict rule against any corporate advertising, intended to keep it feeling like a community event, makes it difficult to divest from the practice of selling plastic beads to members as throws.
And there's more at stake than just a free street party. Mardi Gras, and the traditions that take place in and around the festival, are part of the fabric of the city.
Reconciling tradition with sustainability
It's hard to overstate the importance of Mardi Gras in the larger culture of the New Orleans. Media representations of the event often focus on the drunken debauchery of Bourbon Street; however, most of the event is quite family friendly and something the entire city gets involved in. The Uptown parades, which take place on St Charles Avenue during the day, are crowded with children playing and elderly neighbours resting in lawn chairs waiting for the next float to pass by.
"Having the perspective of riding on a float and throwing what we're considering just junk beads to a young child… and their face lights up. It just brings tears to your eyes," said Linda Baynham, the Director of Sustainability and Corporate Social Responsibility at the New Orleans Ernest N Morial Convention Center.
She says the practice of throwing to the crowd can be meaningful despite the mess it causes. "I like some beads," she added, showing off a small collection of purple, green and gold throws she'd already caught from passing floats that weekend. "If you get this much from one parade, there's nothing wrong with that. If there's no beads, it gets to be a little disappointing."
It's easy to see why locals and visitors are hesitant to give up the experience of "playing catch with a city", as several float riders put it. There's a community-building aspect to Mardi Gras that's hard to put into words, and for many, losing the traditions and celebrations that make up carnival season would feel like losing a major part of the city's soul. Simply outlawing throws altogether would likely lead to massive pushback from residents.
For Suzannah Powell, a producer and performing artist who serves as a sustainability advisor to the Krewe of Freret, part of her job was figuring out that balance between tradition and sustainability when making decisions about what is allowed on the floats and what isn't.
"We [still] have those plastic cups, which are everywhere. I'm a member of the plastic pollution coalition and in our ideal world, those things aren't even present. However, I actually advised that we should keep those as an offering because they're culturally such a huge thing," she explained. "They're a sought-after throw and people like to keep them and have different ones across different years. In terms of trying to make a cultural shift, I thought that those cups are specifically a really great example of the bridge that we're crossing. You can't just come in and start swiping everything up with a machete. You have to make concessions for where people are actually at."
So, what is the solution? Is it possible to make changes that will preserve the important cultural and financial benefits of Mardi Gras while also mitigating the extreme impact it has on the local environment?
New Orleans' recycling superheroes
One of the krewes that marches in the Boehme parade, one of the local parades that rolls through the French Quarter during the earlier part of the carnival season, is the Krewe of Recyclists. The group dresses up as comedic versions of recycling-themed superheroes, including Hans Can-Crusher, played by Kevin Fitzwilliam who is the founder of Atlas Beads, an organisation that distributes eco-friendly alternatives to plastic beads. Created as a pun based on Hans and Franz from Saturday Night Live, the character crushes cans with his muscles for recycling along the parade route to the amusement of party goers.
But New Orleans' recycling heroes are not just fictional characters created for carnival. The coalition of organisations, volunteers and sponsors that make up the Recycle Dat Initiative are working to help Mardi Gras, and the city of New Orleans, maintain both its traditions and the environment for years to come.
Started three years ago by Davis, Recycle Dat began as a handful of local volunteers with small recycling stations set up along the St Charles parade route, but has expanded exponentially since then, offering an alternative to the efficient, but less meticulous clean up done by the Department of Sanitation, which sends everything they capture to the landfill.
More like this:• How eco-conscious Gen Z are celebrating Holi in India• The New Orleans landmark that almost became Napoleon's retirement home• A 'crazy town looking to go fossil free': Sweden's wooden city that was green before Greta
Last year, Recycle Dat collected 4,302lb of aluminium cans, 4,288lb of glass and around 12,697lb of beads and throws. Now with a new larger, more visible set up, they expect those numbers to be even larger. This year, the programme launched Recycle World, an interactive recycling station on St Charles and Louisiana Avenues where festival goers can drop off their unwanted throws and rubbish, volunteer to help sort cans, bottles and throws for recycling and even participate in an art project created out of recyclable materials gathered on site.
Grounds Krewe are also instrumental in making sure alternatives to plastic beads are available to krewes during the season. The organisation offers a variety of sustainable throws, including jambalaya mix, soap and biodegradable glitter, to name just a few – all of which can be individually branded according to the krewe's themes.
For those still interested in throwing necklaces, Atlas Beads offers handmade creations by a women's collective in Uganda; their beautiful beaded necklaces, bracelets and earrings, lovingly spun from discarded magazine paper, are much more likely to be prized by parade-goers than left behind as rubbish.
A movement gaining momentum
In the end it's the krewes who decide which throws to use, but even there, a sustainable groundswell seems to be taking hold. This year was the first time that the Krewe of Feret completely outlawed plastic beads from their floats, opting instead to throw glass beads and other more useable items, a move they say garnered massive support from the community.
"The reaction [to Feret banning plastic beads] was huge," Powell said. "It actually sent ripples around the city. The [krewe's] website shut down that day because there was so much traffic and this was the biggest year that the Krewe of Feret has ever been. They had to add two additional floats just to accommodate the new members."
Not only did their actions encourage more members to join the Krewe of Feret, the grassroots movement to green carnival may also have inspired one of the largest Mardi Gras krewes, the Krewe of Rex, to experiment with using more sustainable throws, such as stainless-steel cups, wildflower kits and natural fibre tote bags. The Krewe of Rex are known as the "King of Carnival" because so many of the Mardi Gras traditions started with them – including the tradition of throwing beads – so their use of sustainable throws this year is a massive sign that things are changing.
Over two days, traversing the city of New Orleans from Uptown to the French Quarter, everyone I spoke to was thrilled to learn about the efforts to make Mardi Gras more sustainable. One visitor, who described wading through waist-deep debris to retrieve a dropped phone, was particularly enthused. There was also widespread interest, and ideas, regarding potential new kinds of throws, with suggestions ranging from local art to food to books.
Green or not, it's clear that no one wants to see the end of Mardi Gras. The question is whether this movement can catch on in time to make an impact on an already beleaguered urban ecosystem. Fitzwilliam believes the artists and activists working on the issue are on track to make it happen in classic New Orleans style: "Garnering support for a more environmentally friendly Mardi Gras is best accomplished by simply having more fun than the other side."
--
Hashtags

Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles


Time Out
28-05-2025
- Time Out
Surry Hills' Hollywood Quarter is turning it on for Vivid 2025
Vivid is doing things differently this year. For Vivid Sydney 2025, it's not all watching the Opera House turn technicolour and wandering around The Rocks looking at the lights (though that's still very much worth doing). This year, sparkly season is going beyond the big, CBD landmarks and lighting up one of Sydney's trendiest inner city neighbourhoods: the Hollywood Quarter. First up, let there be light. From now until the closing night of Vivid (Saturday, June 14), the streets of HQ will glow with neon-toned nods to the world of cinema. Wander the neighbourhood and trace luminous movie soundtrack lyrics and famous quotes; this one's a Vivid light display for cinephiles. Then, there's the event program – which is taking over venues across the neighbourhood with ongoing and one-off events. Every Saturday of Vivid, the Hollywood Hotel will be hosting live music and DJs in its moody 'Vivid After Dark Lounge', with snacks catered by nearby Butter served until 11pm. Around the corner, Golden Age is transforming into a dreamlike realm for the duration of the festival, with live music, performance art and kooky, obscure installations inspired by the beloved late director David Lynch. The Vivid line-up at Golden Age includes a performance by Marcus Whale and Nini Voss covering Lynch originals, and they'll be screening dream-inspired movies in the next door cinema throughout sparkly season. The Soda Factory is also stepping up its entertainment game for the duration of Vivid, hosting live bands every Wednesday during Vivid. The jewel in HQ's Vivid crown will be taking place on Saturday, May 31, when Foster Street will close to vehicles for a gorgeous, glittering street party. From 5pm until 11pm, Sydney's coolest street will become a pedestrianised alfresco dining destination, with food from Nomad, Gildas, Nel, Kiln, Poly and Brooklyn Boy Bagels, drinks by The Rover, Golden Age Bar, Butter, Alberto's Lounge and Tio's and live music performers keeping people entertained. Up on the roof of Paramount House, you'll find a one-off gig poster-making workshop soundtracked by an acoustic set by The Lazy Eyes (taking place from 4.30pm until 6.30pm). On Saturday, June 14, Foy Lane (the alleyway behind Ace Hotel that plays host to one of the most beloved parties of Mardi Gras) will close out HQ's Vivid fun with a high-energy laneway party – complete with live music, digital art, snacks by Butter and drinks under the stars. Stay in the loop: sign up for our free Time Out Sydney newsletter for more news, travel inspo and activity ideas, straight to your inbox.


Metro
16-05-2025
- Metro
I have sex with my girlfriend four times a day — but I still feel insecure
Welcome to How I Do It, the series in which we give you a seven-day sneak peek into the sex life of a stranger. This week we hear from Connor*, a writer in London who used to be hyper independent as a single guy. But this all changed a few months ago when he met his now-girlfriend. 'We're super committed, whereas before, you'd struggle to get me to commit to anything,' he tells Metro. 'I couldn't be happier.' However, despite being over the moon with his new relationship, enjoying the throes of passion, love and connection (sometimes four times a day), Connor is silently struggling with his own emotions. 'There's something else I haven't felt before in a relationship. Self-doubt,' he adds. 'It's not as if I've got crippling performance anxiety but at the start of the relationship, I was definitely aware I really wanted to 'be the best' in a way I hadn't before.' Without further ado, here's how Connor got on this week… The following sex diary is, as you might imagine, not safe for work . We wake up with sex, as has become our daily morning routine. I'd always hated morning sex – someone's hands touching me just as I shake off sleep in a fuzzy grump? No thanks. Love reading juicy stories like this? Need some tips for how to spice things up in the bedroom? Sign up to The Hook-Up and we'll slide into your inbox every week with all the latest sex and dating stories from Metro. We can't wait for you to join us! But that's all changed since we've met. We did it once, and now it feels like there's something missing when we don't. Her hand crawls across my leg to check I'm hard, then she turns on her side and faces away from me. It's gentle at first before my hands eventually grasp her hair tight, pulling her neck backwards as if every thrust can be felt through her whole body. In the grogginess of the morning, neither of us are able to finish. We arrived in New Orleans late last night to celebrate Mardi Gras, staying with her aunt and uncle, so jetlag and family close by mean she's worried we're too noisy and taking too long. I joke that she'd complain if we didn't take long enough . We reluctantly get up and head downstairs before going straight to the nearest Mardi Gras parade, where her aunt and uncle are taking part. I didn't think that catching 'throws' all day – usually plastic beads – would be quite as entertaining as it was. The whole city was there and even grumpy old me was fully involved. We collapse that night into bed without the energy to do anything but sleep. Today's Mardi Gras. Our 7am alarm isn't given chance to sound, as her overzealous aunt wakes us at 6.30am. A tornado of costume-fitting, pack-lunch making and general stress kill any opportunity for us to have sex. At home, we have sex three or four times a day since we work from home. It's a hugely significant part of our communication with one another. But after a long-haul flight and two days of this schedule, the disconnect is apparent. We return from the festivities at 2pm; drunk, exhausted and horny. Falling into bed for a supposed nap, I begin to fumble with her underwear. Her eyes tell me to kiss her, that she wants sex, but hearing her aunt and uncle audibly disagree about our plans for the evening turns her right off. It's the afternoon by the time we get chance to spend any time alone. After our run, she showers while I wait to go next. As she leaves the en-suite, we cross paths, and my hand glides across her damp stomach. She tells me she loves it when I'm sweaty. A niggling thought crosses my mind. Her overt sexuality is something I adore, but I also wonder if a bit of sweat is all she needs to get going? I guess it comes from my lack of self-worth. If my sweat has that effect on her, so must everybody else's. At times my worries bubble up into conversation, it's something I'm ashamed of. She tells me she feels the same, but what matters is that I'm in front of her now. I agree but I still feel that insecurity deep down. I carry her to the bed. She wants it hard, fast and quiet. Her aunt hearing us is worrying her. She pushes me to come, and I ask 'what about you?' but she's convinced she won't be able to. After the sexually muted recent days, I take the opportunity on offer. She bares her chest, and I unload. Over lunch we speak about our pasts. We're both getting used to our new life together, where we spend as much time in bed together as possible. Although I trust she's never felt the way she does before, it's natural to make comparisons, and I can't help wonder if it's the same in the bedroom. I know it shouldn't matter, but I hope this is all as new to her as it is to me. I can see and feel how fulfilled she is, though it's not until she's drunk that's she's particularly verbal about things that'd make me feel more secure. Still, I worry that my need for reassurance somehow diminishes her opinion of me, which stops me ever asking direct questions about it. Most the time, we have sex hard and rough. There's a trust and a safety in our intimacy which allows me to dominate, and allows us both to explore pain within sex. We're fulfilling fantasies we never thought possible, but my insecurities linger. Even though I'd always wanted this, I never felt it was an option with anyone else, that it would feel forced and fake somehow. She tells me it's the exact same for her. A day to ourselves, finally. There's one thing on our minds. We start the day with something gentle, on our side with me behind. I hold her leg in the air and pick up the pace until she orgasms and I follow suit. There's something about her body – the flexibility, her clear connection with her physical being and her devotion to working out – that adds something to the sex. Something intangible. She's convinced her fitness regime helps her connect with her body during sex. It certainly helps me. With the house empty we're able to have sex like usual. At our second attempt she's as loud as she wants. We explore one another with our usual tenacity and passion. She bites my lip, inadvertently drawing blood, and in return I hold her face into the pillow until I finish, but that only makes her finish quicker. There have been times where we've both wondered about the appropriateness of our sex. I think it's what brings us closer. Our communication is so constant, so empathetic, there's just a total safety there. We set a safe word once, and so unnecessary was it, we've both completely forgotten what it was. We go to a nighttime local parade, Krewe of Oak. Her aunt introduces me to a couple, Johnny and Chad – then, as is often the case, a gay man takes a shine to me, bringing me a NOS balloon to welcome me to the parade. He doesn't give one to my girlfriend and her ego takes a hit, but most of all she's worried that I see jealousy or insecurity in her. We're not dissimilar on that front. I'm not naturally a jealous person, and I don't think she is either. But we're adjusting to each other and what our relationship looks like. There's something scary about being staunchly independent then suddenly depending on someone. Right now, I'm very aware of how much I've got to lose. A huge costuming event, Mom's Ball, is upon us. A warehouse party for the weird, wacky and wonderful of New Orleans (of which there's many). Johnny from last night brought some ecstasy which I take with my girlfriend and her family. I know it's illegal, but the party vibe and the thought of sharing that experience with her make it hard to resist. The event is a bit of a disappointment though, so we leave and sit on a bench as we come up, watching the incredible costumes go by. There's plenty of nudity on show and there's one too many people here for seedier purposes. NOLA'S quirky culture attracts a few bad eggs. We soon go home, underwhelmed by it all. More Trending The recent lack of sex combines with the ecstasy and we forget our surroundings. With her legs folded behind my shoulders and her pelvis lifted off the bed, we can fully consume one another – all the worries the previous days have held are gone. The euphoria we feel has another side-effect, a psychic empathy seems to answer our respective insecurities and we're both overwhelmingly vocal in our love and disbelief at having found one another. It continues for hours, the beads of sweat dripping on one another go ignored. For once, I wake up with a grin. So does she. We embrace, with no words needed that something about last night that brought us closer together. I pull her close as I look to relive it. View More » Her aunt shouts up; breakfast is ready, we've got a parade to get to, and her uncle's already sat in the car waiting. One more week left. Do you have a story to share? Get in touch by emailing MetroLifestyleTeam@ MORE: Many hide cash from their partner — but secret savings are actually a good thing MORE: Map reveals the UK cities who have the longest-lasting sex sessions MORE: Why getting married could have more financial benefits than you think


The Guardian
10-05-2025
- The Guardian
The moment I knew: I heard her sing for the first time and awe ran through me
In 2023 I made my regular queer pilgrimage from Melbourne to Sydney to strut the streets at Mardi Gras in flared pink pants. With my best friend in tow we moved through the masses of glittered faces. We stumbled on a house party – the balcony overflowing with people dancing. Partygoers littered the street below, praising the DJ as they hung from trees and danced on car roofs, waving their rainbow fans in sync with the music. My attention turned from the sea of LED-lit cowboy hats to a girl standing a few metres away. She was wearing a fluffy pink bikini but one of the first things I noticed were her beautiful brown eyes. My best friend urged me to approach her. I tapped her on the shoulder and blurted out: 'I'm sorry if you're straight but I think you're really pretty.' She said she wasn't straight and she thought I was pretty too. She told me her name was Elissa. Not only did we share almost the same name, we were just three weeks apart in age. I was captivated by her vibrant energy and beaming smile. Despite the swarm of people around us, I felt almost as though I was alone with her. We planned to get dinner and drinks the next night. I spent the day at Bronte beach recounting the previous night's antics to friends, joking that Elissa could end up being the love of my life. As I headed back to the hotel to get ready for our dinner, Elissa messaged me to say she was too busy with university work to meet up. She told me that if I were ever back in Sydney she would love to see me again. The hopeless romantic in me, who was already speculating where this might go, was gutted. The next day I headed home to Melbourne. I was convinced that nothing would happen between us, especially since she'd flaked on our date. To my surprise, she messaged me a few days later. I didn't want to pursue anything because we lived in different cities but soon we couldn't stop messaging each other and calling late at night. A month after we met I impulsively booked a flight back to Sydney. We spent a night in a trance, taking each other in. I felt magnetically drawn to her. And yet her presence didn't set off nerves – I felt calm. I extended my trip. We spent the next week sharing secrets and watching the waves at Bondi beach. We sketched in my journal in Hyde Park, perched on a park bench by a busking saxophonist. We discovered our shared love of music. One evening we were sitting in Elissa's lounge room overlooking Bondi's dramatic cliff faces. Noticing the piano in the corner, I asked her if she could play for me. I was excited – we had spoken so much about music, and she once sent me a snippet of herself playing, but this was the first time I would see her perform in person. She started playing complex compositions with such grace and ease. I was already impressed but I knew she could sing too. After toying with the idea for a while, she finally started singing Adele's One and Only. Her voice was angelic, her piano playing magical. I was in awe of this phenomenal human being. I felt grateful to just be in her presence. When she finished the song I realised I was screwed. My feelings were profound and there was no turning back. After that trip we were desperate to see more of each other. Keeping things casual wasn't an option. This marked the beginning of 18 months of escapades through both our cities. We rarely went two weeks without seeing each other. I remember longing for her to touch down in Melbourne – my adrenaline increasing as I drove to the airport. I'd detour at a drive-through to surprise her with her favourite: a McFlurry with extra M&Ms. I would count down the hours until my plane would take off, and hope for a window seat so I could marvel at the Opera House. We cracked crosswords together and snuggled up by the fireplace at my family's beach house on the Mornington Peninsula. As we explored each other's states and minds, I knew we had found something lasting. We spent three months travelling through Europe together and realised we couldn't return to the cycle of bidding each other goodbye at airports. Now we live together in Melbourne. Two and a half years in, we play music together and continue to explore each other's minds. Do you have a romantic realisation you'd like to share? From quiet domestic scenes to dramatic revelations, Guardian Australia wants to hear about the moment you knew you were in love. Your contact details are helpful so we can contact you for more information. They will only be seen by the Guardian. Your contact details are helpful so we can contact you for more information. They will only be seen by the Guardian.