Santazilla
December 10, 2006 | 12:00am
The holiday rush is something that we try to outsmart year after year. This year I was done with all of my Christmas presents by mid-November, garnering me envious stares from all my friends. I had my Christmas card printed a week before that and cemented my Christmas list before Halloween. I was very proud of myself; all the pre-planning felt like it had paid off, allowing me to enjoy more time to soak in the holidays. Yet it still manages to make me the worst pre-menstrual bitch.
Yesterday, I decided to treat my sweetheart to a beautiful wallet. When I decided that my first choice was too bland, preferring a more intricate version, I had the sale voided. There in the plush neutral-toned boutique of luxury goods, I found myself marinating in the most obscene luxury of all: wasting time. It took close to 45 minutes, eight people, a heavy helping of Joan Crawford Mommie Dearest-inspired one-liners and countless embarrassing stares to get a simple credit card transaction done.
I knew I was drawing a lot of unwanted attention from, thankfully, just the other four customers in the store with my impatience on whipped cream. I mean, that’s pretty dumb and unreasonable, right? Dumb and unreasonable things sort of warrant dumb and unreasonable reactions. My voice was rising one octave as each moment passed, reaching a full staccato roar when the clock was a quarter shy of eight. My dad was waiting alone at a restaurant for me, and all these women had to offer was confused looks and the occasional offer for a glass of water, sensing my need to clock a Xanax, perhaps. At the end, I left with my new purchase and no void in sight (unbelievable!) and left them with a psychotic death threat, saying if I saw the item on my bill I’d take this (a large leather bag in an indeterminate shade of brown-green) as hostage.
I felt very crazy. There were no confident strides as I walked to my car feeling as if I’d conquered the world with just one icy stare. Rather it was like waking up thinking it was just a bad dream and realized that I sleepwalked right through it!
Cringe.
Yes, scenes like this are not rare in this festive month for me. Christmas has the ability to make me hate the activity I love the most: shopping.
Everyone is tired, everyone is on vacation mode, everyone is hung-over. It’s blank-look city from here till the New Year, and it’s driving me nuts. Non-seasoned shoppers get very aggressive; professional shoppers rely on complex techniques that are almost illegal, like bribing people at the gift-wrapping department and the universal felony of regifting. It’s just so done that you have to ask if it’s even still taboo? Speaking of the holidaze, Christmas parties are now on a roll.
Two years ago, I actually needed an inhaler to get through the holidays because I got so sick going out every night. It was a very Lindsay Lohan moment and now, when Kate Moss says she needs to go to a clinic because of exhaustion, I kinda believe her. I mean, these people do it every day of the year, and my craziness is just isolated during the holiday season.
Last year I decided not to go to any parties. And given the fact that people have very short memories, I’m sure this year I’m just out of everyone’s guest list. I’ll just be gatecrashing now and then, when I get lonely at home. During these hectic months, it’s really rather basic to get into the spirit. Be a limousine liberal and, for God’s sake, try to give back – whether it’s ditching booze-filled Christmas parties for McDonald’s-fueled kiddie parties at your nearest orphanage with your best friends, or sending your regifted presents to centers that really need them the most. Watching A Charlie Brown Christmas on YouTube the other day made me realize that sometimes, as Linus said, "All it needs is love" to bring a holiday, whose meaning has been lost in a flurry of Christmas lights, holiday promos and anorexic Santas, back into our hearts.
Yesterday, I decided to treat my sweetheart to a beautiful wallet. When I decided that my first choice was too bland, preferring a more intricate version, I had the sale voided. There in the plush neutral-toned boutique of luxury goods, I found myself marinating in the most obscene luxury of all: wasting time. It took close to 45 minutes, eight people, a heavy helping of Joan Crawford Mommie Dearest-inspired one-liners and countless embarrassing stares to get a simple credit card transaction done.
I knew I was drawing a lot of unwanted attention from, thankfully, just the other four customers in the store with my impatience on whipped cream. I mean, that’s pretty dumb and unreasonable, right? Dumb and unreasonable things sort of warrant dumb and unreasonable reactions. My voice was rising one octave as each moment passed, reaching a full staccato roar when the clock was a quarter shy of eight. My dad was waiting alone at a restaurant for me, and all these women had to offer was confused looks and the occasional offer for a glass of water, sensing my need to clock a Xanax, perhaps. At the end, I left with my new purchase and no void in sight (unbelievable!) and left them with a psychotic death threat, saying if I saw the item on my bill I’d take this (a large leather bag in an indeterminate shade of brown-green) as hostage.
I felt very crazy. There were no confident strides as I walked to my car feeling as if I’d conquered the world with just one icy stare. Rather it was like waking up thinking it was just a bad dream and realized that I sleepwalked right through it!
Cringe.
Yes, scenes like this are not rare in this festive month for me. Christmas has the ability to make me hate the activity I love the most: shopping.
Everyone is tired, everyone is on vacation mode, everyone is hung-over. It’s blank-look city from here till the New Year, and it’s driving me nuts. Non-seasoned shoppers get very aggressive; professional shoppers rely on complex techniques that are almost illegal, like bribing people at the gift-wrapping department and the universal felony of regifting. It’s just so done that you have to ask if it’s even still taboo? Speaking of the holidaze, Christmas parties are now on a roll.
Two years ago, I actually needed an inhaler to get through the holidays because I got so sick going out every night. It was a very Lindsay Lohan moment and now, when Kate Moss says she needs to go to a clinic because of exhaustion, I kinda believe her. I mean, these people do it every day of the year, and my craziness is just isolated during the holiday season.
Last year I decided not to go to any parties. And given the fact that people have very short memories, I’m sure this year I’m just out of everyone’s guest list. I’ll just be gatecrashing now and then, when I get lonely at home. During these hectic months, it’s really rather basic to get into the spirit. Be a limousine liberal and, for God’s sake, try to give back – whether it’s ditching booze-filled Christmas parties for McDonald’s-fueled kiddie parties at your nearest orphanage with your best friends, or sending your regifted presents to centers that really need them the most. Watching A Charlie Brown Christmas on YouTube the other day made me realize that sometimes, as Linus said, "All it needs is love" to bring a holiday, whose meaning has been lost in a flurry of Christmas lights, holiday promos and anorexic Santas, back into our hearts.
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