John Lewis’s new ‘heirloom splendour’ Christmas decorations range features baubles that mimic a miniature vacuum cleaner, sewing machine, TV – permitted its status in the collection by dint of its bulbous antenna – and a morose-looking pink dog presumably modelled on a Staffordshire figurine.
If one was to decorate an entire tree in these monstrosities, it would cost upwards of £300 – that is if you followed the advice of that other seasonal stalwart M&S, which opines: ‘We recommend 40 filler baubles as your base layer, 18 statement pieces and eight collectable ornaments for added wow factor.’ If you were to try to separate your statements from your collectibles, there’s more: ‘Choose novelty decorations, such as dinosaurs, roller-skating dogs and mirror balls to create an eclectic theme.’ Sure, if you want that theme to be ‘Jurassic Park meets Jerusalem’.
This year’s John Lewis Christmas hellscape also includes the ‘worldly treasures’ section. If it were a lesser retailer, it would no doubt be hauled over the coals – or at least receive some in its stocking – for borderline racism. A Chinese dragon head grins alongside a stylised soy sauce bottle, while a backpack-wearing raccoon looks on, hoping perhaps to nail a decent trade deal.
When done properly, decorations can be gorgeous
And what of the trees upon which to hang such delights? Now that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, real pines are eschewed for plastic specimens, ready-lit for the busy household that doesn’t have time to waste unravelling actual wire. An M&S 8ft pre-lit ‘snowy grand’ fir tree will set you back £459; a John Lewis 6ft pre-lit ‘St Petersburg’ version costs £300.
Truly, you’d need to be an oligarch to justify this expenditure. But while we might upgrade the 1970s tinsel to beads (in the nineties), replace the multi-coloured lights with pseudo-tasteful white ones (noughties) and cast the language in terms of curation (today), the truth is, domestic Christmas decorations are inherently naff.
One almost has to admire the naked commercialism: M&S’s Colin the Caterpillar decoration (£5) – inspired by its own cake – is this year’s bestseller. Retailers open their Christmas departments earlier each year (Piccadilly’s Fortnum & Mason had a ‘soft launch’ in early September). But it’s not just the questionable quality or the ethics around buying such mass-produced landfill-ready tat that makes it naff. It’s how hideous many of these decorations really are. Take, for example, John Lewis’s ‘beaded’ mini Prosecco bottle tree decoration or the ‘cute’ gingerbread man foil helium balloon being sold by Tesco.
When done properly, decorations can be gorgeous. Consider the ‘Christmas tree’ made up of pale pink pointe shoes sitting in neat rows, drawn into uniformity by the invisible feet of English National Ballet’s dancers at the entrance to the London Coliseum. The sculpture has been erected to coincide with performances of The Nutcracker this festive season. Down the road, the Royal Opera House’s towering 20-foot spruce is a friendly giant adorned with Paul Smith stripes. The designer has decorated the tree with props from the opera house’s archives, swathes of green velvet and baubles in his signature colours (and not a vacuum cleaner in sight). In my own Surrey village, a more modest pine winks its white lights; down the coast in Cornwall’s Port Issac, fishing nets and baskets have been hauled together with artfully arranged rope to suggest the form of a Christmas tree. I linger at these creations admiring the details. Sometimes others pause too, and their wonder becomes entwined in the enjoyment.
It’s an experience that cannot be recreated at home. My own flat is free of festive ephemera – and has been for over a decade. I do not dislike Christmas; in fact, since properly avoiding horrible high-street decorations, I now feel free to enjoy proper ones, rather than recoil in horror at fake glitter, snow and amorous angels.
Incurably thrifty, I like to think of Christmas decorations in the same way I do other local services. I pay council tax, therefore I’ve already contributed to the cost of a real tree, a set of lights and the electricity to keep them on until Epiphany – why not enjoy those ones rather than paying a second time for the privilege of my own, private tree? Particularly if it requires paying £10 for a pretend miniature portable radio. And if this sounds a little bah humbug, at least I’m in keeping with Ebenezer Scrooge, an original Christmas character, and not, say, Colin the Caterpillar.
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