If you have been watching Impeachment: American Crime Story, you will know that Linda Tripp was not only the woman who broke the Monica Lewinsky affair, but a textbook Winter Wonderlander. Come December, every surface of her Washington house was coated in decorations bought in far-flung Christmas markets (another clue to her obsessive character).
Those who are partial to a rotating flying-angel candelabra and little Father Christmases made out of fir cones regret the Linda Tripp association because, in their opinion, going the full WW is not remotely creepy. What’s weird is being able to resist a moustachioed nutcracker soldier.
Winter Wonderlanders are proud of their more-is-more philosophy, although they would not want to be confused with those people who cover the outside of their houses in flashing lights and Santas on ladders. You can guarantee there was no blow-up Rudolph on Linda Tripp’s lawn.
Note: there is a more upmarket version of a Winter Wonderlander who is aiming for old-school-country-house decked halls (think Boldwood’s Christmas party in Far from the Madding Crowd) with added 21st-century twinkle. For this you require space, ideally an inglenook fireplace and access to substantial greenery (boughs of holly; meagre sprigs will not do).
There will be mantelpieces groaning with ivy, windowsills crowded with paperwhites and maybe a chandelier wreathed in mistletoe. From mid-November, this tribe are YouTubing Sarah Raven, queen of tasteful Christmas decoration, for ideas.
- Most likely to say: ‘Do you want to hear the story behind this elf?’
- Least likely to say: ‘I think less tinsel.’
The Christmas Super-Stressers
How do you know if you’re on the Christmas Super-Stresser spectrum or merely averagely stressed about getting everything done? Very easy. The CSS starts thinking about Christmas – by which we mean buying one or two presents, just to get the ball rolling – back in October.
Also, the CSS has a notepad by his or her (let’s face it, almost certainly her) bed and will add reminders to this list at around 4am, most nights, from the beginning of November.
There will be several other lists, besides the bedside list, and they might include: a present list (messy, lots of scoring out); a MUST DO NOW list; a when-things-are-arriving list; and a food shopping list, which the CSS consults most days because of that time she forgot the cranberries.
Oddly, the one list the CSS has never had is one of those countdown-to-lunch, minute-by-minute lists – eg ‘11am: put the potatoes on to par-boil’ – because she knows that trying to stick to it would finish her off and even thinking about it makes her want to just buy the bloody stuffing. And the mince pies.
Another sure sign of a CSS – late at night, they very much want to pin down some of the as-yet-hazy details, such as: what time will they arrive on the 23rd? Do they need to have a starter at dinner on the 24th? Will the youngest bring a clean shirt? And is red cabbage more or less popular than coleslaw?
Note: there is another Christmas tribe who think of themselves as the ‘Get-Aheaders’ and it’s certainly possible to be an organised Get-Aheader and not remotely stressed. Even so, on the day, you’d be hard pressed to tell the difference between a GA and a CSS if, say, the oven goes down.
- Most likely to say: ‘Next year, whatever happens, we are going to a hotel.’
- Least likely to say: ‘It’s really no different from a normal weekend…’
