A lighthearted look at news, events, culture and everyday life in New York.
By Nina Pajak
And . . . we’ve hit the ground running!
With Thanksgiving under our rapidly expanding belts, the holidays have officially begun. It feels like someone just rang a bell and we all just came out from our corners and jogged out into a ring where we must shop, eat, drink and punch one another in the face TO THE DEATH. Or until January 2nd. You know, whichever comes first.
While I typically spend my holiday season toggling between feeling both charmed and besieged by tourists and aggressive Midtown merchandising, I’m still feeling rather fresh. My limbs are loose, my energy is up, my hopes are high. The novelty-sized ornament sculptures and the rows of lit trees and the ice rink all seem new and exciting. Even the tree.
Well, the tree still strikes fear in my heart. But you know, until the other shoe drops, I’m feeling pretty good.
But nothing struck me to my core quite like I was struck when I walked into the Container Store recently. No, I did not go on another fantasy binge in which I am the sort of person who doesn’t have a scary drawer filled with decades worth of spare buttons and sweater thread and who knows what to do with a variety of hatboxes. Instead, I found myself immersed in a floor entirely dedicated to holiday giftwrap and accessories.
I twirled around in sheer bliss, running from shelf to shelf and pointing out different designs, oohing and aahing and touching every single surface and object like a kid in a jewelry store.
It’s difficult to adequately explain what glittery Christmas and seasonal trappings do to my psyche. I want to own everything I see in a way that a traditional commercial transaction simply won’t satisfy. I want to eat it. I want to wear it. I want to be it. I want to wrap myself in paper and ribbons until glitter melts into my skin and I transform into it. I want to wallpaper my apartment with it until not an un-shiny surface is exposed. I HAVE TO HAVE IT.
Of course, the fact that I am all thumbs when it comes to packaging and wrapping presents, and that I usually get my husband or mother-in-law to help me with this task is irrelevant. I don’t need to use it. I just need it. In fact, it would break my heart to see it ripped to shreds, a mere afterthought in comparison to the present. Maybe I’ll just give pretty wrapping paper and ribbons as gifts this year. Practical, no? Thoughtful, yes?
I’m like one of those monkeys or birds who can be trained for a life of theft by preying on its fascination with shiny objects. I need help.
Also, I need this.
What it is, even? I don’t know.