Candice Dixon grew up going to the Toronto Caribbean Carnival. “I remember when it was on University,” she said. “As a kid, you would come out of the subway and just be in awe of the smells, the sounds, the colours, the vibration.”
She’d never been part of the parade or dressed up to “play mas” at the festival, but in 2011, at a friend’s nudging, she thought she’d try her hand at creating a costume for one of the masquerade bands who dance and play music along the parade route. That was nearly 14 years and 1,300 costumes ago.
More costumes from the Roots Collection.
Candice DixonDixon is now a lecturer in Toronto Metropolitan University’s Carnival Arts course, the first of its kind in Canada.
“It gives the art form the respect it deserves. Carnival costume making is often thought of as just a ‘craft,’ but it is so much more,” she said. “The design pedigree is off the chain! Many of the pieces designers in this art form create are works of art that should be in museums and on the red carpet at the Met Gala.”
As well, she grounds her students in the history behind the carnival costumes, many of which originated on plantations in the Caribbean.
“The settlers would have these grand balls, and the enslaved Africans would participate — cooking the food, making the costumes, entertaining — but they weren’t actually part of the festivities,” said Dixon. “So, they would go back to their quarters, and start a tradition of mocking their masters.”
It’s why many common characters in carnival parades are modelled on aristocrats of the 18th and 19th century.
“There’s the Dame Lorraine, for instance, who’s very much a mockery of a French aristocratic woman who has a large, puffy gown on, with big boobs and a bum, emphasizing the look of the day,” Dixon said. “The Blue Devils came from when they’d dress up and paint themselves blue and try to scare their masters.” Dixon’s personal favourite character, the Moko Jumbie, is a sort of protector figure.
A costume from the Inkwell Project Collection, which pays homage to the Indigo dye pits of Kano, Nigeria.
Candice DixonOther carnival staples like stilt walking and drumming originate in traditional West African activities that enslaved people were banned from doing.
“Carnival, as we know it now, was really a protest, a rebellion against their slave masters,” Dixon said. “Now, it is a physical symbol of the resilience of a people. It is a beautiful mosaic of people all pushing one cause, which is unity. It’s a celebration of liberation. Your race, economic status nor body type matter once you hit the road and participate in this centuries-old tradition. It’s a connection to the ancestors and a physical reminder of how far we’ve come.”
A look from the Bloodline Collection, in which shapes Africa are laser cut in different materials in all the costumes.
Candice DixonDixon said the first time she made a carnival costume was a “humbling” experience, despite the fact that she was a trained fashion designer working full-time at an apparel brand.
After applying and proving her design credentials, she had to create a prototype, inspired by the band’s theme that year, which was “The Wizard of Oz.”
“To be honest with you, I didn’t even know what carnival costumes were made of,” said Dixon, reflecting on her Wicked Witch of the West design. “Because I was a designer and I know fabric, I ended up making feathers out of fabric, because I thought that’s what people were doing.”
Costumes from the Indigo Collection, which feature hand dyed fabrics, denim accents and accessories.
Candice DixonCome her first prototype review, she discovered that carnival costumes are very specific in their design, starting with always using real feathers. (Because it’s a competition, bands are very serious about ensuring their looks meet stringent quality control.)
“I went in there and showed my costume, and this beautiful elder, Tony Ishmael, came over to me and said, ‘Listen, you’re on the right track, you have what it takes,’ Dixon said. He pointed her to where she could source the right materials, including those essential feathers and the wire that’s used to make the costume shapes.
Dixon went back to the drawing board. At the band launch — a fashion show that takes place a few months before the parade, where people have the chance to choose their outfits for it — her final design was a major hit.
“When people came to register for their costumes, there was a lineup for my section. We sold out the first day, which for that band doesn’t happen all the time,” said Dixon. “And then I realized I’d have to make 180 costumes.”
A performer wers a costume from the Crown Collection celebrating pride in Black hair.
Candice DixonIt nearly killed her, Dixon said, but on the day of carnival, when she got down onto the Lakeshore and saw a girl wearing one of her designs, and another, and another, it was all worth it. “There’s no feeling like it, seeing 180 people wearing it at one time,” she said. “And then you’re in it all day, and you’re in the sun, and everyone’s so happy and so free. I was bit by the bug.”
While other commitments have kept her on the sidelines of this year’s Toronto Caribbean Carnival costuming, she’ll be back at it next year.
“I miss it so much,” Dixon said. “As soon as the season is over, I will be dusting off my sketch book and getting back into the lab.”
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