Citizen Brooklyn

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At five years old, I fashioned my first mermaid costume out of shells collected at our house by the sea and an old shiny gold taffeta evening gown. I created my own imaginary merfamily, where everyone had names and colored tails with, of course, beautifully coordinated accessories to match. Countless hours were spent frolicking with them in the undersea world of my dreams. It was all Merpeople drama all the time with a capital M.

Marching mermaids photo©Alan Kaplan

My whole life I have wanted to be a mermaid. The proud owner of several mermaid costumes, I would dress like one everyday of the week if ordinary life was costume appropriate (Why isn’t ordinary life costume appropriate?) It’s no surprise that every year I anxiously await Coney Island’s Mermaid Parade. It’s a live, unplugged recreation of my childhood fantasy world and the best excuse to slap on a wig, tail, and some lashes to rock out with my inner funky mermaid.

Mermaid photo©Alan Kaplan

Set adrift in a sea of scallywags, mervixens, underwater witches, pirates, sea creatures, sailors and beach combers, I endlessly fixate on the costumes people throw together. Old bathing suits, pool toys, prom dresses, discarded Mardi Gras paraphernalia and torn tutus are all recycled into clever, stunning, and amazing mercreations.

Aussie mermaids photo©Alan Kaplan

This year was no exception from the zombie mermaids (Mermageddon anyone?) to the ice skating mermaids, to the walking lighthouses and peanut butter and jellyfish girls. The Mermaid Parade is a vibrant, imaginative, and fanciful display of home grown eco-fashion and something that is uniquely Brooklyn. Fins up!

An unlikely romance photo©Alan Kaplan