By Olivia Favreau
So we’ve passed mid October, which means that Winona Ryder, as Tumblr mentions, is at her strongest. I love spooky month. Not only for the an array of new horror movies for me to dutifully ignore for my own scaredy-cat self, but for the excitement Halloween is ultimately known for: the precursor to Christmas. Duh. Sorry for the misleading title.
Don’t get me wrong, I love Halloween just as much as the next wholesome teenager looking to spend money on an overpriced cat costume that doesn’t flatter me whatsoever. It’s just that I love Christmas so much more. There is no way the 2017 remake of Stephen King’s It could compare to any cheesy Glee Christmas special. Actually, no, It totally wins against Glee, but for sure it would lose against any one of the Doctor Who Christmas specials.
Of course, the commercialization of Christmas can get under your skin. No matter how many times Coca-Cola puts Santa in an ad, I still can’t love them, jolly red cheeks, or no. This is a good point against Christmas and in favour of Halloween, especially because of the present-buying stress that comes in the holiday season.
But I argue with this: How can one say Christmas is all about marketing when Halloween does the exact same? Don’t lie to me, you’ve totally seen the new Smarties packaging that says Scaries, or the ingenious Scaero bars. These are truly works of art, I cannot believe how innovative mankind is. What a time to be alive. But you know what, I’ll call and match your dumb Scaero bars, and I’ll even raise you one dry Christmas dinner.
There’s no lying about it, everyone gets excited for whatever traditions happen in your household every winter. There’s a reason Scrooge is among the most easily hateable book characters, character change or not.
Just think about this: hot chocolate with a candy cane stuck in the cup, your grandmother’s shortbread, and meat pie in the oven. Turkey stuffing with homemade gravy and family conversations that are both endearingly sentimental and uncomfortably confrontational. A pine tree in the corner, covered in tiny snowmen baubles and lights, except the lights are off because, “No Olivia, we don’t need them on all day, no matter what you say.” A present or two for you and like, six more, way bigger ones for your sibling. The panic in your stomach when you’re trying to find a good spot to hide your father’s present (It’s a bag of nails. You’re going cheap this year. He doesn’t even build things). Slushy, disappointingly mediocre Haida Gwaii snow and the cold mornings and the weirdly in-between afternoon temperature.
Josh Groban on the radio.
Actually, only one of his songs really gets played, but it gets played over and over. Not having to find an excuse to just hug someone you actually do love. Those cute rocking-horse ornaments. Sledding and cutting your chin but you don’t even care until you realize you have school the next day. That feeling of excitement at the first snowfall. Baking with your whole family because that’s where the whole “How many people does it take to make a dozen meat pies?” joke came from. Falling asleep knowing you have a pair of warm socks wrapped up for you underneath the tree. Waking in the dark and coming home after school in the dark. And of course, the Christmas TV specials.
I can’t wait.
À bientôt,
Olivia