It happens every year. You wander into a supermarket, still in a light jacket, and find yourself ambushed by tinsel, baubles, and rows of advent calendars adorning the shelves. Halloween hasn’t even had its turn, yet the aisles are already stacked with selection boxes. At first, it feels absurd, consumerism creeping in early. But maybe it’s not such a bad thing.
Of course, the early arrival of Christmas is fuelled by money-making. But in Edinburgh, it often feels less like a marketing ploy and more like a city-wide countdown to joy. By mid-November, Princes Street Gardens has already transformed into the wonderful Christmas Market, with sugary hot chocolate, overpriced mulled wine, and the giant wheel boastfully overlooking the city. The Dome’s famous Christmas lights glisten as early as the end of October, and no one complains. If anything, we flock to its regal steps, blocking the pavement to grab the best picture.
For students, an early Christmas isn’t unusual anyway. Between deadlines, exams, and train tickets home, flat “Christmas dinners” often happen mid-November. The timing doesn’t make them less special; it makes them ours. There’s something unique about students gathering around a wobbly IKEA table, struggling to stomach the homemade mulled wine you spent hours trying to perfect, and pretending that you haven’t already figured out who pulled your name for Secret Santa a week ago.
So perhaps the creeping of gingerbread and candy canes into September isn’t an erosion of the holiday’s meaning, but an expansion of it. It gives us permission to anticipate the nostalgia and traditions we love. Whether that’s fairy lights strung across a student flat, the first blast of Wham! on the radio, or marching down the High Street for gift shopping weeks in advance.
The world is heavy enough; maybe there’s nothing wrong with a little sparkle arriving early. After all, joy doesn’t have to wait for December.
Photo by Andy Holmes on Unsplash.