From Spectator to Sequins: The Learning Curve of Mardi Gras

[I'm in New Orleans launching the second cohort of a Leadership Academy for a client. It happens to coincide with Mardi Gras, so I went along - it would've been rude not too! And would you know it there was SO much to learn from this experience. So here is the first in a four-part series exploring my personal and professional insights from the parade route.]

For 10 days I was on a personal learning journey as I learned "How to Mardi Gras." The experience reminded me of the classic four stages of learning that we all go through when learning something new:

1. Unconscious Incompetence - we don't know what we don't know.
2. Conscious Incompetence - we now know what we don't know and maybe feel awkward, clumsy, it's hard!
3. Conscious Competence - here's where we start to practice, take guided practice (maybe from an executive coach or mentor). We need to concentrate as we apply the new skills. We experience progress and setbacks
4. Unconscious Competence - we're on autopilot, we've created new habits (some of them not helpful) and can 'do the task'. We may be seen as the subject matter expert and can teach others.

And so decided to use it as the lens to explore how we all navigate new skills, environments, and identities - whether on Bourbon Street or in the boardroom. Here's how I experienced each stage:

1. Unconscious Incompetence: The Comfort of Not Knowing

We've all been there – confidently starting a new role or project because we don't yet know what we don't know. My first parade experience was precisely that. I arrived thinking I understood Mardi Gras from movies and stories. How complicated could catching beads really be?

But Mardi Gras, like many things in life, operates on implicit rules and unspoken traditions. There's an art to positioning yourself along the route, techniques for catching throws, and an entire language of interaction between parade-goers and krewes that I couldn't possibly have anticipated.

I'd turned up to the first parade wearing what I'd consider "normal clothes" – the kind you'd wear to a casual Friday at the office. Around me were sequined jackets and sparkly headdresses. I felt underdressed. However, by the end of that first parade, I'd acquired a flashing cat-ear headband (a throw from a parade float). It made me smile, it was my first small, yet significant step on my learning journey.

The flashing cat-ears may have made me smile... but these were mere table stakes. Entry level decorations.

In our workplaces, this stage is both blissful and limiting. We're comfortable because our 'not knowing' shields us from what's ahead, we may not recognize the gap in our capabilities, or for the need for change. It's this lack of awareness that prevents us from performing at our best.

2. Conscious Incompetence: The Humbling Reality

But then something shifts. Our awareness of the gap is brought to our attention - maybe a performance review, or feedback from a colleague. Something shifts to jolt us into the reality of where we are, and where we need to be.

By day two, reality hit. So much noise. Multiple parades. Costumes and sparkle everywhere. The seasoned parade-goers around me knew exactly when to raise their hands, where to stand for optimal bead catches, and how to signal for specific throws.

[By the way, in case you are not familiar with the term - 'throw's are the items that are literally being thrown from each float, on both sides for the full length of the parade (3+ miles) and include strings of beads, hats, toys, frisbees, socks, toy swords, cups, toilet rolls, sink plungers (you had to be there to understand that one!) and more. Here is just part of our 'hoard']

It seemed that everyone around me was wearing the parade colors of purple, gold (not yellow!!), and green. I quickly realized I was the obvious newcomer, and in that realization came growth. I went shopping at a local thrift store for sparkly pants and a more elaborate headband—not quite full immersion, but a deliberate step toward increasing my immersive participation.

Whether we are learning to play an instrument, march in time, or lead a new project, to be a good leader, there will come a point where there is a rude awakening, when we become aware of our limitations—what we don't know, what we can't (yet) do.

This gap can become a chasm when we compare ourselves to others who seem to navigate and demonstrate those skills effortlessly without remembering that what we don't see is the 10,000 hours of practice (a la Malcolm Gladwell) they may have invested in acquiring that skill or knowledge. (BTW you won't need 10,000 of practice to enjoy Mardi Gras!). Here, we need to give ourselves the space and grace to be the newbie.

At this moment in the learning cycle, we have a number of choices:

• to wallow in our helplessness remain stuck, and potentially stop others having fun
• to leave the parade and go home,
• or to embrace this messy middle and start to adapt.

I know from personal experience that choosing to embrace this step in the learning cycle is humbling and uncomfortable. You will experience success and knock-backs (remember learning to ride a bike?), but it's necessary. Without it, we remain stuck. This period of discomfort and self-consciousness are the precursors to growth.

Too often in workplaces, we avoid acknowledging our incompetence, that we don't (yet) know how to do something, this is where 'fake it till you make it' can be poot advice. We hide our questions for fear of- well so many reasons - but they come down to being judged and found wanting. Yet embracing this stage – actively seeking guidance, asking "obvious" questions, admitting our novice status – is the ultimate catalyst for change and accelerates progress.

As I embraced my Mardi Gras learning curve, I found myself moving into the next phase of the journey:

3. Conscious Competence: Active Participation

By mid-week, I had shipped in my ball gown with purple sequins and arrived "pre-beaded" before heading to parades. I'd added a red wig and face decorations. I hadn't just left my comfort zone; I was expanding it and creating a whole new level of experience. It turns out that red-wigged Morag is parade-Morag!

I was now consciously engaging with the atmosphere - calling out "Happy Mardi Gras" to others, walking taller as my new confidence and persona started to take shape.

Did I still have to work at letting party-me show up? Absolutely. Did I occasionally feel self-conscious in my elaborate outfit? Heck yes. But then I remembered I had CHOSEN this outfit, I was learning and growing. More importantly, I was actively contributing to the spectacle rather than passively standing on the sidelines (or sidewalk to be precise) and watching it happen around me.

In our professional lives, deliberate, thoughtful, guided practice happens here. Sometimes we get ahead of ourselves - remember the adage "Don't run till you can walk", and we have to be conscious of our actions, not just the new skills we are developing, but also conscious of the old habits that will try to creep back in and return us to an earlier, easier version of ourselves. We're methodically applying what we've learned - We prepare (and re hearse) extensively for presentations, carefully craft (and rewrite) emails, and deliberately implement feedback—all with an awareness of both our progress and how much we still need to learn, or don't yet know.

4. Moving Toward Unconscious Competence: The Future Float Rider

I was proud of my Mardi Gras learning journey, I had way more fun than if I had stayed at the first level as cat-eared Morag. The conversations I struck up with other parade goes (more on that in the next article) were fantastic, and when others learned this was my first time, their surprise at my 'all in' approach only fuelled my desire to get better still.

I glimpsed my future learning opportunity when I reached "bead overload" (literally since they are heavy!)—catching throws not for myself anymore but passing them to the kids nearby. It was symptomatic of the natural progression from me-first learning (and what I couldn't do) to we-first community what I could do for others, which demonstrates this final step in the learning circle.

This final stage, unconcious competence – where skills become second nature – still awaits future-me. Maybe I'll join a krewe, ride a float, or return for future Mardi Gras celebrations with an even more flamboyant costume. I'll let you know in due course!

Why This Matters in the Workplace

Learning curves aren't just about acquiring skills; they're also about identity transformation. My journey from spectator to participant required more than knowledge—it demanded a willingness to look different, act differently, and temporarily accept discomfort.

When it comes to change, organizations often focus on skills training while neglecting the identity shifts they're asking employees to make. New technologies, restructuring, or strategy pivots aren't just about learning new procedures – they're asking people to reimagine their professional identities.

When we understand this, we can approach change and learning differently:

1. We normalize the awkward middle stages – creating psychological safety for the "sparkly pants phase", where people are trying but not yet fluent
2. We celebrate small steps – recognizing that the flashing headband might be someone's brave first move
3. We provide visible role models – much like my fiancé who boosted my confidence by enthusiastically donning a sequined jacket and top hat
4. We recognize that learning is social – innovation rarely happens in isolation

My Invitation to You

• What learning journey are you currently navigating?
• Which stage of the learning cycle have you reached? Are you in the blissful ignorance of unconscious incompetence, the uncomfortable awareness of conscious incompetence, the deliberate practice of conscious competence, or the fluid expertise of unconscious competence?
• As important, how are you supporting others through their own learning experiences?

Ultimately, whether you are standing on Napolean Avenue here in New Orleans or in the boardroom at your office, transformation happens not when we mandate it but when we create environments where people feel brave enough to try on their own version of a red wig and sequins.

In my next article, I'll explore how Mardi Gras creates authentic community bonds and what this teaches us about building cultures where people feel genuinely valued and recognized.

My name is Morag Barrett . I'm a leadership advisor, executive coach, and keynote speaker, who, together with Eric Spencer and Ruby Vesely help leaders, teams, and organizations create cultures of connection in a world of disconnection.

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