For those cultures and traditions that don’t decoratively wrap up dozens, nay hundreds of gifts, truly wise. Here in North America, as in much of the world, we provide a boon to manufacturers of wrapping materials as well as clearcutting many a forest to provide a festive atmosphere for our nearest and dearest every December.
We have a couple of sacred traditions in our house, codified many years ago by my mother-in-law. Those include:
Law # 1: Nobody but nobody can have two Christmas gifts wrapped in the same paper. An extension of this protocol is that no two presents in close proximity under the tree can have the same or similar paper. Balance and contrast, People!!
Law # 2: All bows must be judiciously removed from the package, squashed into a box or bag, and saved for reuse next year. (A sidebar is that these bows will never be used again because a) their condition is deplorable, having been squashed into a box or bag from last year, and b) they’re the wrong color and don’t match the paper we’re now using. This will result in the purchase of bags of new bows – another bit of economic stimulus.)
Some hardy souls buy rivers of ribbon and tie their own bows. I’ve seen this done in stores that, in ages past hired professional “wrappers” as a service for their customers. If you have seen this, or taken advantage of this service, you’re most likely on or eligible for Social Security. Or you may too have wandered into a mall. For the millennials, a mall is a huge building in which crowds of senior citizens go for their daily walk before the stores open. The kindly wrappers would allow you to pick from a generous selection of papers and various accoutrements to the wrapping process, and the customer received a beautiful, decorative package in the right box size. Which brings me to: our boxes are typically either too big or too small for the items that have been purchased. If you’re like us, the boxes follow a process similar to the bows. We have an inventory of approximately six thousand gift boxes in the basement that are unusable because “they smell musty”. So, each year we buy quantities of new boxes. Do we actually throw out the old ones? Of course not. They’re “good boxes”, in fact too good to throw out. So we save them, creating the dual benefits of clutter and fire hazard.
There are people, my wife included, who produce gifts that are true works of art. The corners are beautifully wrought, the overlap is exactly in the center, the ribbons perfectly diagonal over opposite corners. That’s the way I always envision my gifts coming out before I actually wrap them. Now to be fair, my wife’s wrapping takes place under controlled conditions – virgin rolls of wrapping paper, at the dining room table, a flat, secure surface, with scissors, tape, tissue paper all within arm’s reach. Anyone passing by at this inopportune time is liable to be swaddled in silver and gold with crimson bows across the forehead. My wrapping is done surreptitiously at the last minute – on a bed where the package is bouncing up and down, with me running out to grab the scissors or tape which I forgot to sneak in. A key factor in the wrapping, it should be noted, is that I’m using the odds and ends of what were originally entire rolls of paper or an ample collection of boxes. What that means is that nothing quite fits. The leftover box is either too large, and the gift is sliding around inside, or it’s way too small and I have to stuff something into it. In the latter case, I now have to tape the box, which is bulging and doesn’t fit the attractive contours I’d planned. The paper now goes about three quarters of the way around the box, leaving an exposed strip. If it’s a striped paper, I can use a marker to fill in the gaps, but if it’s a complex pattern of poinsettias or angel wings, I am forced to cut a patch strip. That results in the next thing I wrap in angel wings will run a little short and . . . . . I’ve never been able to execute those hospital corners on my packages. I fold the paper over neatly, match it somewhere in the middle, and then go after the short sides with fear and trepidation. It’s often there that the corners rip through the paper, exposing the box. Several applications of repair tape later, it looks like something a homeless package would wear. All it needs is ribbons with the fingers cut out. Manufacturers of bows really need to focus a bit more fully. The small adhesive squares they put on the back of each bow never stay in place for more than ten minutes. If you’re travelling with these packages, prepare yourself that the bows won’t make it out of the driveway, and were probably off by the time the gift went into its travel accommodations. I try to tape the bows on. Often it’s successful, but sometimes it fights me when I reach under to apply it, tearing the decorative finish off the paper. Now I have to look for a bigger bow to cover the paper’s white underwear.
Some people like to add garnishes to their gifts. My brother, for example, is renowned for adding twigs, shriveled stalks of holly or celery, or even bits of tree bark to truly enhance the visual impact of gift-giving. Many members of the family have been left speechless over the years by the range of his decorative skills.
The development of the gift bag is truly inspired. Stuff a sweater, shirt, or scarf into it, drizzle it in matching tissue paper, and voila, a truly elegant gift! We couldn’t have come up with that forty years ago? For years, most North Americans been tearing off the paper with reckless abandon (of course being careful to “save the bows”), while gift bags are totally reusable. Just take off the tags, fold them up and store them in the basement until next year. Wait – we need to buy new ones because these smell “musty.”
I'm Thinking...No! 