Pretty in Pink: Spanish Town Mardi Gras Part 2

Editor's Note: Keep in mind that the Spanish Town Ball is famous for its adult themes.

Most Mardi Gras balls are very formal affairs. Kings and queens sport heavy headdresses and hold jeweled scepters. Formal ball gowns swirl and skirt the edges of a parquet dance floor. Men look immaculate in white ties and tails. Debutantes wearing kid gloves bow to the crowds, and everyone drinks champagne and waltzes the night away.

The Spanish Town Ball is the complete antithesis of this. Twenty-five years ago, the first ball was held in the home of a Society for the Preservation of Lagniappe in Louisiana krewe member. Over the years the ball has managed to outgrow the Varsity Theatre and the Belle of Baton Rouge Atrium. The River Center, the largest convention arena in Baton Rouge, now serves as its current home. Many outside Louisiana wouldn't know what to make of a dress etiquette bearing the words “costume or creative formal.” This year’s theme was Flamingo Dynasty, a play on the A&E television program Duck Dynasty; but at Spanish Town, anything goes as long as it is bright pink and over the top.

Every good South Louisianan has a costume closet where they store Mardi Gras costumes from years past. I store my costume inventory in a gigantic silver suitcase. My husband, Tim, keeps his tucked in the back of his closet. On any given day, a devoted reveler might be digging through a closet in the bowels of an estate sale looking for the next great thing to wear to Carnival.

This year, our tables opted to forgo the Duck Dynasty theme. We all planned to dress in the style of a 1980s prom. Tim came to me and inquired which thrift store had the best bridesmaid dresses. I casually listed a few options, but inside I was all aflutter because I would finally be able to properly dress Tim in drag. After striking out at a couple of stores, I remembered the secret stash I had hidden in the guest room closet.

A few years back, a relative who presided over a local Eastern Star chapter passed away, leaving behind all of her formal attire. Fortunately for Tim, she was a tall woman, and I was able to secure every pink gown she owned. I started by showing Tim a beautiful hand-beaded gown with a high collar and sheer sleeves. He turned his nose up and scoffed, “This is far too matronly for me.” After that remark, I knew I was creating a monster that could very well rival one of the child beauty contestants on the TV show Toddlers and Tiaras.

The second gown caught his fancy. It had a more contemporary vibe, and its hot-pink color really complemented his skin tone. He just managed to squeeze his shoulders into the dress and mostly zip it up the back—leaving no room for the fake breasts I had crafted. As he stood proudly in the living room, we knew we had a winner.

The day of the ball, I pin curled his hair and later teased and piled it high on his head, adding a good two inches to his 6’2”-tall frame. I adorned his lips with a scarlet color that later bled into the beard he had refused to shave. I finished by painting his eyelids with peacock blue liquid liner that he thought was a bit sticky. I stuck some flowers in his hair and made him a corsage of fake dollar-store flowers. The result was a diva-ed up version of J. Edgar Hoover in a dress.

Underwear did present a problem. Tim insisted on wearing gym shorts under his frock. He maintained he wasn't really cross-dressing if he was still wearing shorts. After a brief tutorial on how to urinate standing up while wearing a tea-length dress, we grabbed a box of wine and a bottle of vodka and headed to the River Center to see and be seen.

Upon entry, we were swallowed into a sea of hot pink. Duck calls sounded in the air. Many tables had spray painted old hunting decoys and used them as centerpieces. Attendees sported camouflage with pink accents. One friend dressed as The F*&k Commander. Another wore a pair of white shrimp boots, short jean cutoffs, and the trademark Duck Dynasty beard. We stood in the shadows of a six-foot tall sculpted-wire penis centerpiece and people watched for a while. We drank. I enjoyed the rare opportunity to dance with my husband while he was wearing a dress. (Yes, I still let him lead.) Over the course of the evening pink feathers accumulated on the floor, and eventually it was time to leave the party.

The next morning we awoke to a bed full of glitter and I rolled over to find my husband still sporting his beautiful blue Bette Davis eye shadow.