It’s not even a big traditional holiday, so why do some of us put up our trees as early as October?
Christmas seems to come earlier and earlier, the unofficial starting point for the festive season – December 1, at least according to Advent calendars – getting progressively pushed back.
Supermarkets have been playing carols for a couple of weeks now. TV channel Movies Best scheduled its first Christmas movie on November 21. Then there’s the ritual of putting up the Christmas tree – which, again, seems to have migrated from December to mid-November in many households.
For some people, it comes even earlier.
“I put my tree up on October 28,” says Australian-born Sofi Papatheocharous. “I do get mocked for it, but – y’know, never mind!”
Well-known comedian, radio producer and influencer Pan Dragomir goes even further, telling the Cyprus Mail that her tree went up on October 12.
“I wanted to do it on October 1, because it was a holiday – but my husband refused, he said it was way too early. So I waited for him to leave the house for a bachelor party in Limassol, then I called my friends and we put it up!”
Dragomir, who describes herself as a “Christmas fanatic”, didn’t actually take down last year’s Christmas decorations till April, meaning her home is lit up for six months of the year. Yet her mid-October starting date isn’t as extreme as it sounds: “I think Andrea Kyriakou – she’s a model and influencer – put [her own tree] up a couple of days before me”.
October may still be a bit unusual – but November 1 is now officially Christmas season. “The trend,” she explains, “once Halloween is out the door, there’s a trend going round now on social media where Mariah Carey is defrosting – and she’s like ‘It’s time!’”.
‘Mariah Carey defrosting’ is a meme, the joke being that Carey is frozen for 10 months of the year and bursts out when it’s time for her song ‘All I Want for Christmas Is You’ to start becoming ubiquitous – and of course the meme originated in the US, where Carey’s song is a big Christmas anthem. In Britain, the equivalent might be ‘Fairytale of New York’, while in Cyprus… well, it’s hard to think of any iconic Christmas pop song here, mostly because all this seasonal kerfuffle is fairly recent.
The classic Cypriot Christmas didn’t even include exchanging presents, which traditionally occurred on New Year’s Day (the day of St Basil, a.k.a. Santa Claus). It’s easy to blame social media for this new way of doing things, and mutter darkly about cultural imperialism – but in fact the Christmas fanatics decorating early seem to be doing it for heartfelt reasons, not because it’s trendy.
“It makes me feel at peace,” says Dragomir. “It makes for a cosy environment, basically… The lights at home, with the tree, and Christmas jazz playing. And the air-conditioning on!” she adds with a laugh.
October weather isn’t exactly Christmassy in Cyprus – but in fact that’s precisely why Papatheocharous starts so early, because it reminds her of Christmas in Australia, Santa arriving in the heat of summer with surfing and barbecues.
“I like to bring a piece of home into the season,” she explains. “It gives me the best of both worlds.” It may seem surprising that a woman who’s lived here for 22 years should be so nostalgic for ‘home’ – but Christmas is special that way, calling up associations with childhood and a more joyful time.
Dragomir’s own emotional link is more intricate. Her memories of Christmas aren’t especially joyful: “It was not the family moment like you see in the movies, because my parents were divorced”. Later, in 2017, her uncle passed away at the end of December, making the season even more of a mixed occasion. “I even went through a stage that I hated Christmas, for a while.”
Then, about three years ago, she became pregnant with her daughter at around the same time when she and her husband got their own place, after years of moving around.
She’d always dreamed of a cosy Christmas in her own home, with a tree and ornaments “matching the aesthetic of the house” – and so, ever since, she’s put up her decorations super-early, seeking to fulfil that dream, “build new traditions for my family” and dispel the bad memories. “It’s become like a celebration again, let’s say.”
The point, once again, is that Christmas is special. Worrying about it two months in advance may seem like obsessive behaviour, like clutching at a crutch or security blanket – yet the Yuletide idea has a complex mystique in the Christian world, even those Orthodox parts of it where Easter was always the bigger occasion.
“It changes the mood,” says Papatheocharous to explain why she puts up her tree. Even just the thought of the world’s favourite holiday – even when it’s not actually due for many weeks – conjures up a mood, a spirit.
Christmas is a symbol, and can mean whatever you want it to mean: a taste of home, a case of taking charge of one’s life. Sometimes it means status, conformity. A colleague tells of his aunt in Florida, who lives in a gated community and puts up her decorations early, in sync with the other residents. “She doesn’t care about Christmas,” he confides. “But she cares about the neighbours.”
The first day of December has been shifted back to mid-November, soon to be the entirety of November if Mariah Carey has her way – and yes, certain outliers are even thinking Christmas in October. Where does it end? How much Christmas can we take, realistically?
Crass commercialisation is one thing, but it’s also a matter of duration. Doesn’t putting up a tree two months early dilute the impact of the day itself, when it finally arrives? Can a dazed and battered populace sustain a feeling of joy and goodwill to all men – meanwhile assailed on all sides by carols and Christmas movies – for two solid months? Isn’t there such a thing as ‘too early’?
“You’re speaking to the wrong person!” laughs Papatheocharous when the question is put to her. “It can’t come early enough for me.”
“As soon as October kicks in, I get the itch… So you won’t be hearing anything negative from me about starting too early.”
