The Joyous Holiday Solely Held Together by Materialism
The Ultrarich. A title coined by those of the lower classes. It’s Saturday and the day of the week didn’t matter to her. The bustling streets and filled corridors of rushing people with hefty bags of clothes, kitchenware and toys seemed to suggest overwise. The holiday season had become a war of purchase and gift giving, not to see the joy of others but to out buy each other. What was significant lay in the hands of the individuals, for Laura this was a leisurely stroll, the smell of hot chocolate and cinnamon accompanied by the cheerful jingle of Christmas carols and the high-pitched singing of Mariah Carrey and Ariana Grande only added to her jovial mood. The holiday season was a welcome one, unlike many families, this young woman did not need to consider the amount she was spending or what she was buying.
It's Saturday, the weekend and sweat gathered on the assistant’s brow despite the cold winter air, the bags of heavy items taunted at her of what she did not have. While others returned home for the holiday season, she would be hurrying alongside this woman, in the heavy woollen coat with a fur trim and red bottomed heels, sprayed by a mist of Jo Malone perfume which was overpowering and just screamed money.
Laura turned around, flashing a bright smile, ever since getting her pearly veneers she was even more confident and self-assured to the point where every fake smile was sickening and dripping with strawberry syrup. It only furthered the agitation that the assistant felt, looking at her, every item cost multiple thousands, and she only seemed to wear these items when you had seemly forgotten she even owned it.
This part of the outlet was lined with designer shops, from Louis Vuitton and Gucci, the more notable brands for showing off, to Mulberry and Hermes, where every item was not covered in their signature logos.
To most, this area was just a pass by, filled with envious stares into darkly lit stores where smartly dressed salespeople in crisp attire waited in white cotton gloves ready to present you with luxury items beyond the amount of money many held in their bank accounts. Instead, the average person was hoping in their minds that perhaps this holiday season they would get that thing, you know, the one item that would make everyone love them, the one item that could elevate their wardrobes and that one item could make all their problems go away.
Laura skipped down the warmly lit path surrounded by bright red bows with golden trims and green wreaths made of stringy pine taking in the scent of Christmas treats like fruit cakes and spiced rum. She confidently headed towards the black store with the white Cs, Chanel, where the sales assistant greeted her by name and a friendly smile guiding her straight to the plush sitting area and bring out the green glass bottle of San Pellegrino natural sparkling mineral water and pouring it over glistening ice cubes with a freshly sliced lime in a sparkling crystal glass. The bottle of Champagne lay untouched, the gold foil seal tightly wrapped. This sales assistant knew what Laura liked, she never forgot what Laura wanted, after all was one of the only people in this area to come every season, not just once but multiple times and her attitude was memorable too. This winter season this was already her third visit, Laura had placed an order for her one of her many friends. The only reason the sales assistant knew was due to the fact Laura had all said so in the ten minutes she been here, the bag was from last year’s spring season and to Laura, the thought of buying last year’s item when it did it not hold any special merit was something she could not be caught purchasing.
The sales assistant brought out the black canvas box, opening it carefully and drawing out the white dust bag, the smell of earthy leather was furthered in the dim store with its few customers, the sound of soft jazz played in the background lulling the people inside despite the impactful purchases that were being made. Her gloved hands presented Laura with the bag, who haphazardly waved at her without making eye contact, whatever was on her latest iPhone seemed more important than the person right in front of her. Laura was unaware as her assistant reached for her Amex Black card and tapped it, quickly entering the pin while the sales assistant packed the purchase into the crisp, stiff carboard bag and held it out to Laura. With a look of disgusted, Laura nodded to her assistant who was busy shovelling seven bags on her already creased arm.
It’s Saturday and the harmonic sound of carollers smothered by plaid scarves and fur trimmed Santa hats pour their hearts out to merry songs accompanied by excited bystanders giggling and sniffing wit from the cold while children run around with sticky hands from gingerbread men and swirled candy canes, as the chime of coins clinking as they fall into the empty cookie tin in front of the happy carollers which would usually be expected to contain a sewing kit. Soon the sound is drained out by the soft breeze of the heated lobby and the sound of Michael Bublé’s It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas draws Laura further into the building. The white marble floor with gold veins and tall vases of holly is reminiscent of festive balls and Laura’s red bottomed shoes slide across the polished stone and she spins, drunk on the mood and music.
The assistant hurries her along to the hall of elevators, the six golden doors reflecting them are welcoming to those dressed well and shaming to those who aren’t judged by society. The light ding of the orange, glowing triangle declares its journey upward, the two board on without any other travellers and stare as the doors slide, closing off access to the world.
It opens once again to reveal a darkening entrance where well-dressed waiters in black satin waistcoats with three perfectly round buttons and crisp dress pants carry overflowing cocktails and thoroughly prepared meals. The hostess greets Laura before throwing a curt nod to the assistant as she checks the name of the reservation, once it is confirmed she leads the guest through the winding restaurant, where the clatter of silver wear is strangely absent. Within the individual cubicles and rooms, businessmen in neatly pressed suits with overly cheerful ties which seemed more like a compensation for their actions sipped at brownish liquid which was no doubt liquor. A group of middle-aged women in animal prints huddled around one hysterical woman who had just discovered her husband in bed with her sister rush on about how she should have seen the affair coming. These people all lived in their own heads that was what made this place so unusual, only the elite could dine here, and this somehow made Laura feel at ease.
The hostess neared a room where the door seemed paper thin as brash laughter escaped in cascades, some uneasy and while others were light in mockery.
The private dining room was filled to the bream with every designer brand possible, bags and coats were hung on the backs of cushioned chair while their feasting owners bragged and chatted about their latest trips to the warm tropical Bahamas and the snowcapped mountains of the Alps. The silver wear clinked as wine glass were raised and cheered, laughter and chatter filled the air, which no longer smelled of spices and Christmas time, instead it smelt of garlic and fresh herbs overpowered by dusty perfumes from Jo Malone and Le Labo mixing together to create a nauseating concoction, a representation of the very people present within the walls. It was Saturday but the day of the week did not matter as everyday was planned and scheduled as they liked, as they were rich, which therefore meant they were better than others.
Outside the twenty-six-story structure, the bumpy concrete of the sidewalk made Laura frown was her sharp stilettos snagged, shoppers past by huddling like penguins and rushing to escape from the frosty winter air. A homeless man with a cardboard sign sat outside the extravagant and frugal building. He shook his white paper cup, hoping today humanity would have some sympathy and spare change, he hunched in the cold, a ragged purple patchwork blanket wrapped around him, and his breathing was caught in the air reminding people he was human too.
Laura scoffed at the man on the corner, she thought these “types of people” were a menace to society, little did she do to pause and consider how this man had gotten here. For most people it wasn’t a choice, many people would choose to live in a comfortable house than on the streets if it can down to that, she seemed oblivious to addiction and other unfortunate circumstance as she could not be in their shoes. This man on the street corner had a story too, he had once lived in similar conditions to Laura herself. His wife had taken everything from him, money, family, friends, and business, he was left with nothing and had been thrown to the streets. For this man, the day of the week mattered, the time of year matter, perhaps he would strike some luck soon and find a way out of this situation.
This short story inspired by Elizabeth Tan’s writing style and specifically the short story “A Girl on a Unicorn in the Middle of a Shopping centre.” It was actually for a school assignment, which was practice for our upcoming sac. However, although the assignment required you to write a 500-word story, I well exceeded the required amount, since I enjoyed it so much. The story obviously critics materialism and consumerism but is mainly about how the holiday season has lost its meaning. So, I decided to share my first short story on my blog, and I hope it entertained you.
Thank you so much for taking the time to read it,
-Enna Mari
Enna Mari 