Behind the feathers, jeweled bikinis and stilt walkers of New York’s West Indian American Day Parade, masquerade bands say interest in one of the city’s best-known cultural celebrations is waning – and with dwindling resources, competition among bands has become even fiercer.

Gothamist interviewed several bandleaders representing hundreds, if not thousands, of participants. They said the competition has become more intense in recent years due to rising costs and waning interest.

Many bands have pulled out, and those that remain are struggling to make smaller profits from the annual festival while trying to preserve their culture. This lack of members has led to distrust, rivalries and debt among several groups that participate in the long-running parade, according to band leaders. 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 even sell costumes to replenish your money, you’re almost $20,000 in debt,” says 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, 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 will still be teeming with thousands of masked people dancing in about 30 groups called bands, also known as Mas Camps — short for Masquerade.

Similar to walking groups, Mas Band participants pay the bands for elaborate costumes, food, drinks, and the opportunity to party next to a semi-trailer truck driving down the parade route with loud music.

But Mas Camp leaders say that with fewer participants each year, it’s getting harder to make a profit or even recoup the significant investment of time and money. Without the cost of food and materials per participant, organizers say the bands can cover overhead costs alone of $25,000 a year for things like costumes, insurance and advertising.

A band has its participants sign a contract in which they agree not to reveal any details about the costumes or the band’s internal workings.

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

Borneo has a strict media relations policy and asked Gothamist not to mention her band along with others. When she was told that the story would also involve other Mas camps, she asked not to be involved and threatened to have the reporter arrested.

Other groups were more candid, describing a complex industry that requires nearly a year of planning, design and logistics. Bands benefit from selling attendees not just costumes, but the entire touring party.

Mas camps must advertise, take out insurance for special events, rent retail space to sell costumes, and hire designers, craftsmen, promoters, private security, DJs and caterers for the parade. Bandleaders source their supplies from South Africa, Britain, China and Trinidad.

“If you’re a big band, you can go to China,” said Jamila Gulstone, the leader of B Paradise Mas, a band that participated in Monday’s parade. “You have to consider the customs and the costs you have to pay for shipping, and then you have to get it in time.”

To maximize profits, many bands go on “carnival hunts” and travel through carnival camps in cities such as Atlanta, Miami, Trinidad, Barbados, Toronto, Grenada and elsewhere.

“A lot of bands thought it would be more lucrative to go to the Caribbean or Miami, and that’s where they are now,” Gulstone said. “Depending on where we’re from, we have family members living there or people we’re connected with as business partners.”

Gulstone said she would forego profit if it meant she could pass the carnival on to a younger generation of New Yorkers. However, several major bands made the opposite decision and stopped participating in the New York carnival.

Among them is Dingolay Mas, led by Trotman, who dropped out of the New York carnival scene because organizers and police had difficulty preventing non-paying revelers from jumping over the barriers and partying with masked people who had paid to participate.

“The girls are basically half naked and having fun. They don’t want people from outside to just come and grab them and rub up against them,” he said.

Trotman, who still leads a band in Miami, said he had to pay suppliers a $15,000 deposit before he was paid by attendees.

“I can’t raise the money without selling a costume, knowing that (the customers) won’t enjoy the show,” he said.

Band leaders cited several factors for the decline of New York’s carnival, primarily economic. Rising material costs have pushed the cost of costumes for the front-line bands alone to $1,000 or more.

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

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

The parade’s official organizer, the West Indian American Day Carnival Association, said there are strict rules prohibiting non-costumed paradegoers from joining the bands on the parkway.

Cecile Ford, the association’s board secretary, acknowledged that the number of masked people is declining, but blamed inflation and a lack of business sense among some band leaders.

“Although we offer educational programs on how to start a business, many of them do not heed the advice on how to make their business more successful,” she said.

The for-profit business is not the only model for carnival camps. At least two bands, whose leaders said they are disillusioned with what the carnival has become, are offering cheaper alternatives.

The community group “I Am Caribbeing” sells body-hugging costumes that come in larger sizes and cover more skin. Shelly Worrell, the group’s founder, criticized what she sees as the hyper-competitive and hyper-sexualized stereotype of Carnival.

“You’re just buying a costume, you’re not buying into a concept or a community,” she said from her Nostrand Avenue shop. “It’s just like showing my body or it’s for Instagram or social media. Actually, a lot of people do that. They do Carnival for Instagram.”

Worrell keeps the cost of her costumes under $200 and says they can be reused at the beach.

Another Mas camp is subsidized by the 1199 Service Employees International Union, which has many members of Caribbean descent. It offers costumes for between $400 and $600, about half the price of other bands.

In an interview at SEIU’s Mas Camp, bandleader Curtis Dyer said that as he has grown older, he has developed a stronger connection to his Trinidadian roots.

“The other bands are all about making money,” he said. “Our band just wants to preserve the legacy.”