Behind the feathers, bejeweled bikinis and stilt walkers of New York’s West Indian American Day Parade, masquerade bands say interest in one of the city’s most famous cultural celebrations is waning. And competition among bands has grown fierce as resources dwindle.

Gothamist interviewed several orchestra leaders, representing hundreds if not thousands of participants, who said that competition has become fiercer in recent years as costs rise and interest dwindles.

Many bands have pulled out, and those that remain are fighting for less profit from the annual celebration while trying to preserve their culture. That scarcity has created mistrust, rivalry and debt among groups in the long-standing parade, band leaders say. It has also inspired other groups to experiment with new business models and more inclusive options for participants.

“The business side is very important because before you actually sell a costume to replenish your money, you’re already almost $20,000 in debt,” said Eddie Trotman, leader of the band Dingolay Mas.

Trotman retired from the New York Carnival in 2019 after 10 years of participation.

“It’s sad because it’s in my DNA, it’s in our culture,” he said. “It’s sad to see. It’s sad to see where it’s going.”

On Labor Day, Brooklyn’s Eastern Parkway is still teeming with thousands of masked dancers, divided into about 30 groups called bands. These groups are also called mas camps, short for masquerade.

Similar to traveling groups, MAS band participants pay the bands for outrageous costumes, food, drinks, and to party alongside a truck blasting music that drives along the parade route.

But the mask camp’s leaders say that with fewer participants each year, it’s getting harder to turn a profit or even recoup the substantial investment of both time and money. Not counting the cost per participant of food and equipment, organizers say overhead alone can cost bands $25,000 a year, for things like costumes, insurance and advertising.

One band requires participants to sign a contract stating that they will not reveal any details about the costumes or the inner workings of the band.

“It’s a competition. If I tell you everything, there’s a possibility that you’ll work for someone else,” Maxine Borneo of the band Suga Candy Mas said in a phone interview. “You could work for another band. You can steal my idea, they can steal mine, I can steal theirs.”

Borneo runs a tight media operation and asks Gothamist not to mention her band alongside others. When told the story would include other mas camps, she asked not to be involved and threatened to have the reporter arrested.

Other groups were more open, describing a complex industry that requires nearly a year of planning, design and logistics. Bands make a profit by selling participants not just costumes, but the entire traveling party.

Mas camps must advertise, purchase special event insurance, rent retail space to sell costumes, and hire designers, craftsmen, promoters, private security, DJs and caterers for the parade. Bandleaders source supplies from South Africa, the United Kingdom, China and Trinidad.

“Once you become a big band, you can go to China” to have costumes made, said Jamila Gulstone, the leader of B Paradise Mas, a band participating in Monday’s parade. “You have to factor in customs and the price you’re going to pay for shipping and then you have to get it on time.”

To maximize their profits, many bands go on a “carnival hunt,” traveling through cities such as Atlanta, Miami, Trinidad, Barbados, Toronto, Grenada and elsewhere.

“A lot of bands thought it was more lucrative to go to the Caribbean and Miami and that’s where they are now,” Gulstone said. “Depending on where we’re from, we have family or people we’re networked with as business partners who live in those places.”

Gulstone said she would give up profits if it meant that Carnival would be passed on to a younger generation of New Yorkers. However, several major bands took the opposite decision and stopped participating in New York’s Carnival.

One of them is Dingolay Mas, led by Trotman, who left the New York carnival scene because organizers and police had trouble preventing non-paying partygoers from jumping over the barricades and partying with partygoers who had paid to attend.

“The girls are basically half naked and having a good time. They don’t want people from the outside just coming in and grabbing them and rubbing against them,” he said.

Trotman, who still leads a band in Miami, said he has to make a $15,000 deposit to vendors before he takes any money from attendees.

“I can’t spend that money without selling one costume, knowing (customers) won’t like the show,” he said.

Band leaders cited a confluence of factors for Carnival’s decline in New York, primarily the economy. The rising cost of materials has driven up the cost of costumes alone to $1,000 or more for front-line band sections.

Kenneth Antoine, the leader of one of New York’s oldest bands, Antoine International, said participants no longer want to pay that amount.

“I borrowed quite a bit last year and I’m still paying it off,” he said from his basement shop in Flatbush. “I don’t know what’s going to happen this year. I don’t have anywhere to borrow money.”

The parade’s official organizer, the West Indian American Day Carnival Association, said there are strict rules against uncostumed parade-goers joining the bands on the parkway.

Cecile Ford, secretary of the association’s board, acknowledged that the number of masked musicians was declining, but blamed inflation and a lack of business acumen on the part of some bandleaders.

“Although we offer educational programs on how to set up a business, many of them don’t take into account the advice on how to set themselves up to become more successful businesses,” she said.

The for-profit business isn’t the only mas camp model out there. At least two bands whose leaders said they were disappointed with what Carnival has become are offering cheaper alternatives.

The community group I Am Caribbeing sells what it calls body-inclusive costumes that come in larger sizes and cover more skin. Shelly Worrell, the group’s founder, criticized what she called the hyper-competitive, hyper-sexualized trope of Carnival.

“You’re just buying a costume, you’re not joining a concept or a community,” she said from her shop on Nostrand Avenue. “It’s just ‘I’m showing my body,’ or it’s for Instagram or social media. A lot of people actually do that. They do Carnival for the ‘Gram.”

Worrell keeps the cost of her costumes under $200 and says she can reuse them on the beach.

Another mask camp is sponsored by 1199 Service Employees International Union, which has a large Caribbean membership. It offers costumes for between $400 and $600, about half the price of other bands.

In an interview at SEIU’s MAS camp, conductor Curtis Dyer said that as he gets older, he becomes more attached to his roots in Trinidad.

“The other bands, they’re all about making money,” he said. “Our band is all about keeping the heritage alive.”