She wasn’t by any means ugly, or frumpy at all, despite her quaint “Old Fashioned” shirt that was really a bulky sweater, maybe extra-long sleeves for “handling,” as per her clerking job. Neither was he, also with hard-to-miss-during-holidays hat, his happening to be cowboy size much like a Santa sombrero that really sleighs it on sight, even more than slightly, and this praise comes from an avowed hetero, so that means loads (enough to fill a ten-gallon variety of hat …)
But they both carried on an age-old tradition — OK maybe just since the last generation took root, and could go out on Santa’s again with parade newly minted town — that of sporting, and we won’t say boasting, a holiday ugly sweater. Well before the typical annual contest time for such. But it does not best the decked out on Halloween. (Although we have come a long way from, the next day, the many downtown doorsteps having only a lone pumpkin on the right side of the entry. Uncarved to befit, in decor, what will come four weeks later.)
“He” had his entryway-to-sweater-season worn during the night before Thanksgiving, that middle holiday, giving thanks for Blackout Wednesday, a not-so-keen-after shots observation in its own right, and what is to come. (Thus, a bartender and I revisited that shot-slamming scenario just last night, and she said the song of songs to inspire this activity plays on their music-run-list at least once every night.)
— This could be the latest mashup of a metal meltdown, again borrowing from classical, of a model Maiden and a modern manger general … It was up the irons a few weeks again in St. Paul, and I ran into two different couples with mostly the same concert (or non) story. One twosome was at a bar and the other at a boutique! Backstory of both: One of the spouses got to go to the recent metro mega-show, and the other ended up having to opt out at the last minute, and still shows some subtle-like-the-lyrics jealousy toward their significant other. Both recently came from the Twin Cities to party down across the river “and tell their tale wherever they go.”
This was not seen in the elaborate backdrop that is an Iron Maiden stage, although it could have been, knowing their tone, lyrically and not just sonically. In the middle of the downtown, pumped up with their decking out of holiday scenes, there are shops that go to the hilt in decorating their front window(s). One found a cool way to mix the secular and religious, much like Maiden. The sprawling Nativity scene, no doubt bigger than your actual average cave, although God could no doubt swing it with the innkeeper if he chose to, had as backdrop a guardian angel style backup from a couple of reindeer and on the side but a single Santa, (mono-thematic if not theistic), and above from bells set to carol … —
Back to the “He” man. Similar gender, to him, Santa hat? Check. Christmas colors, unevenly disbursed? Check. Checkered with also plaid and stripes? Maybe. Santa beard and/or with accompanying reindeer horns? I’ll have to think back … prelude to what I’ll say in a bit. But the brief message on his shirt was Chevy Chase-ish, as it would have been fitting when packing up the family, and possibly trying to revive grandma, with its large-lettered and thereby-it-would-need-be clever use of the prefix “un” in lampooning such as that very vacation movie. Thus Chasing Christmas … From a family sometimes poor, but never poor in spirit. And such spirits from that late-November night, granted a while back, are why exact wording escapes me.
Fast-forward, she did not have a beard, but her ugly sweater had plenty more words. It focused on the thought, maybe unintentionally, that this would be an Old Fashioned Christmas, in this the land of brandy and beer that made such drink(s) famous. Typically cool colors and big-pictured old home for the holidays design on her nowhere-like-that shirt, and yes, she wore a like minded hat, too.
“She” works at a store where the grip that comes from long-sleeve comfort is valued, and she might sell what she wore on her shirt, and it did say “to” and “from” with an oversize faux gift tag. I told her that she looked very holiday-ish, and after her thank you she noted that since she only gets to wear this outfit about three weeks a year — as need be, she has the timing down — she made sure to get it years back, about the time she was of age. I said this is like a bridesmaid dress, and you might think twice, whether naughty or nice, about buying it for just one wedding, so you’d best have a whole bunch of eligible girlfriends who might soon wed.
And she is married, and said her husband had offered to her that she was his Christmas present, which could in theory mean she could get decked out in this way 365. That mirrored the wording of what I had wanted to jokingly say to her but did not know if I could get away with it, that someone like myself could wrap her up and take her home for the holidays. So I blundered it out there and she took no offense at all at the silly comment.
And no one, at all, is sillier than those from The Isles, et all. So only in these parts could you find someone playing the bagpipes out in the old as a way to slot in Xmas tunes, like the guy in such gear just north of the middle of the downtown, on the sidewalk leaning up a foot over from the exterior wall, though standing straight up and blowing hard. West side of the street, as is typical of such acts, unless they go way up Locust. Entertaining shoppers who wandered from the east that are now really getting busy, now that we’ve gotten over the hump of Black Friday, (doin’ the Humpty Hump?)
He said that he does such gigs now and again, even when it’s only reasonably cold, and has a specialty of sorts in holiday music, adding that he starts re-rehearsing before Thanksgiving, as come the second weekend in December, you’ve got to get it right. Shoppers, as they want deals, have great expectations.
Back to the sweaters, with green sleeves. One guy had that obligatory two-inch-high side strip of dozens of designs, running just under his armpits, that appeared to be a combo of St. Nick style superhero (small figures) and snowflakes, or were they Xs? But the bank teller’s black sweater was more sporty, with two little strips of big frills running down the length of each arm. And we Must say Boo to the guy who had on just a plain gray sweater, with little sleeves and gaps where the zipper should more fully be.
Anyway, if you have any of those styles, or one strictly your own, check out the Hudson Green Mill ugly sweater contest on Saturday, Dec. 14 starting at 9 p.m., one that kicks the season for such in gear.