Carnival has been a big part of my life forever. Growing up between Jamaica and Ontario, I always watched the Jamaica and Trinidad and Tobago carnivals on TV. I loved seeing the costumes and how free and happy everyone looked.
As a kid, I was extremely shy and a bit sheltered — Carnival was the complete opposite. I’m also a big history nerd, and when I learned about Trinidad and Tobago’s Carnival history in school — it’s a beautiful story of emancipation and rebellion — that attracted me to it.
When I moved to Canada in my teens, settling permanently in Scarborough, my older cousins encouraged me to take part in Caribana, known now as Toronto Caribbean Carnival.
Playing mas for the first time was nerve-wracking. There’s not much fabric to the costumes, and I felt insecure about how my body would look. The first time I played in 2009, I wore one of my favourite pairs of shorts over my costume on the way to the parade. My cousin told me, “You’re going to lose those shorts!” Once we got there, I took them off and put them on the back of one of the trucks that play music — I never saw those shorts again.
But it didn’t really matter, because there’s so many body types, so many people who are confident in their skin, and once you see them you start to become more comfortable in your own skin. My perception of my body and myself has completely changed since I started playing mas. The costumes have become smaller every single year, but you start to lose sight of what your body is “supposed to” look like and how you’re supposed to feel, and you just start to feel good about being part of a beautiful tradition and culture.
One thing that hasn’t changed over the years is the importance of the look. While some people opt for more natural makeup, for the majority of paradegoers it’s a big deal. I describe playing mas as my second birthday party, so makeup is a huge aspect for me. And because I’m a model and makeup artist, I’ve always gone for artistic looks, with full glam or gems everywhere, chosen depending on the colours in my costume.
Usually I start prepping in April. This year, the band I’m walking with is Carnival Nationz and their theme is “A Jungle Story.” My costume is called “Waterfall,” so it’s full of blue, pink and purple. In terms of makeup, I’ll look at the theme and colours first, and focus on eyeshadow, picking up on subtler colours you see the least in the costumes — like the purples and pinks — as a focal point for my look.
Skin prep for your body and face is very, very important. Because it’s so hot and humid, people tend to go for mattifying products, but I’ve found it works better for me to use a combo of hydrating primer and matte foundation since the partying and the heat is so dehydrating to my skin. I don’t use too much powder because it melts faster, but setting spray is a must. I always bring a smaller kit with me on the road for touch-ups.
I’ve also been modelling for the bands since 2007, posing in the costumes for promotion in the spring, in the lead-up to the parade. I love getting to see the costumes first, before anyone else. Every year, my cousin messages me to send her backstage pictures so that she can have a glimpse of them. We won’t talk to each other for months, but every single year around that time we have the same conversation.
I absolutely love being on the stage and I love performing. It’s the same as modelling for a Fashion Week, but it’s a different type of stage; you get to dance, you get to connect with the audience. It’s more of a performance and the costumes I have the privilege of wearing are works of art.
Crossing the stage to be judged in the competition feels euphoric. It’s like finishing a marathon of celebration; you’ve danced, you’ve sweat, you’ve embodied the costume, and in that moment on that stage, it all pours out. You really feel like you won something, even if it’s just for yourself.
I’ve seen a lot of changes over the time I’ve participated in Caribana, unfortunately not all of them positive. I’ve had my friends drop out as the cost of living — and playing mas — has become more expensive. Costumes can range from $350 to $2,000, depending on what line you’re on in the parade (I get a costume for free as I model for the bands).
The younger generations don’t necessarily understand the meaning behind Carnival anymore. I think they could feel more comfortable playing mas if they had more education around its history and the goal of Carnival, which is to celebrate the islands’ culture and history of resistance. There’s a lot of people from outside the community who would love to take part in Carnival, but they’re intimidated because they don’t know enough about it. It’s not just for Caribbean people — anyone can play mas.
It’s not an easy route to do; you’re waking up at 6 a.m. to get ready and walking the parade route is tiring, but you just keep walking. It’s so worth it. There’s a moment when you’re out on the road, you’re half-naked, you’re with your friends, you’ve had a drink or two, the sun’s on your skin — sometimes I tear up a little bit. You get to a place where you’re just standing, the wind’s blowing and you feel so free. That’s the feeling that I chase. That’s one of the reasons why I keep playing mas year after year. — As told to Katherine Singh.
