Ostrich feathers and wooden clogs

The village of Binche, nestled in the heart of Belgium, awakens to the echoes of anticipation on the morning of the Mardi Gras. The cobbled streets are lined with eager bystanders, wrapped in scarves and coats against the expected winter chill. Today is the pinnacle of the Binche Carnival, a celebration so steeped in tradition that UNESCO has recognised it as a cultural masterpiece.

At precisely 15:00, a deep, rhythmic stomping reverberates through the air, the unmistakable sound of wooden clogs striking the pavement in unison. The Gilles have gathered.

Clad in their extravagant costumes of red, yellow, and black, adorned with intricate heraldic patterns and stuffed to appear rotund, they march through the village with a sense of pride. Around their waists, brass bells jingle in a constant, hypnotic rhythm, their chimes blending with the muffled drum beats that guide their steps.

The Gilles’ costumes are unique, crafted only within the confines of Binche itself.

No one owns a Gille costume, they are meticulously maintained by local artisans and can only be rented for this singular day of revelry.

Each Gille is a guardian of tradition, bearing the weight of history with every step.

As the parade winds through the narrow streets, the Gilles begin their generous ritual, throwing fresh oranges into the crowd.

This act, symbolic of good fortune, is both eagerly anticipated and slightly perilous, the oranges are tossed with gusto, and the lucky recipients catch them with triumphant laughter.

Some duck and dodge, while others reach out, hoping to grasp a token of luck for the year ahead.

Finally, the parade arrives at the Grand Place, the heart of Binche’ festivities. The Gilles, still stomping in unison, remove their feathered hats and don their wax masks, eerily identical faces with handlebar moustaches and small, darkened eye holes. This moment, steeped in mystery, signals the climax of the parade. The masked figures continue their ritualistic dance, their wooden clogs echoing through the square, a timeless rhythm that bridges past and present.

As the sun starts to set, the streets of Binche glow under the warm light of the golden hour, and the revelry continues.

Music fills the air, and the Gilles, now faceless yet full of life, dance until exhaustion claims them.

The Carnival of Binche is not just a celebration, it is a legacy, a living tradition that pulses with the heartbeat of the village, passed down through generations, and cherished by all who witness its spectacle.

but the Gilles are not alone...