What sweater is this?

From 2018, another Christmas column. — CS 

Cows with reindeer antlers.

Cats sporting snowflake pajamas.

An elf, patterned after the bad boy from those Ford bumper stickers, “writing” Noel on yellow snow.

Some trends, not even the Internet can quantify.

Ugly Christmas sweaters are one example. After a recent foray to a retail giant where a tacky top set me back $20, I did an online search to learn how how huge the seasonal-sweater industry has become.

Surprisingly, I found few recent numbers.

Oh, I discovered many stories about the craze. One, from Alaina Demopoulos at Daily Beast, talks about the 26,000 holiday sweaters sold from September to November this year on eBay alone.

Another, from Crain’s Detroit Business, focuses on UglyChristmasSweater.com. The company expects to grow its sales 35 percent this year, shipping between $6.5 to $7 million in holiday-themed apparel.

In 2016, GQ reported that “stores move tens of millions of novelty knits every holiday season.” That same year, CNBC did a story on the startup company Tipsy Elves, noting that five-year sales had topped $20 million.

But no source gave an overall estimate of how much money Americans are expected to spend to look tacky over the next week or so. Maybe because it’s just too embarrassing for even the “fake” news media to report.

Call me a purist, but I believe a sweater is ugly only to the extent that somebody else finds it beautiful. When companies begin to design intentionally repulsive clothing, they miss two essential holiday ingredients — love and sincerity.

Think about it: In the days of old, when dear old Aunt Ida — and didn’t everybody have an Aunt Ida? — gave you a tacky sweater, she sincerely believed it was gorgeous. She thought it would make you look splendiloquent as you went about your holiday business — shopping, caroling, cleaning grease traps. She didn’t send a sweater because she thought it was hideous or because she wanted to embarrass you.

And you wore it out of a dreary, but laudable, sense of duty. Because you knew, deep in your heart of hearts, that’s what Aunt Ida wanted. It's the same reason Americans eat fruitcake — not because we like it, but because we have to.

If I may mix my holidays, it reminds me of Linus from “It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown.” He’s camping out in the pumpkin patch, certain the Great Pumpkin will grace him with his (its?) presence.

“He’s gotta pick this one,” Linus asserts. “He’s got to. I don’t see how a pumpkin patch can be more sincere than this one. You can look around and there’s not a sign of hypocrisy. Nothing but sincerity as far as the eye can see.”

Ugly Christmas sweaters were much the same — a sincere attempt to give a loving gift. But no more. Now, you can’t be sure if the Aunt Idas of the world are mocking recipients with their sweater choices.

Think of little Ralphie in “A Christmas Story,” mortified by the pink bunny pajamas from his Aunt Clara. If the movie took place today, audiences would be forced to consider Aunt Clara’s gift as cutting commentary on her nephew.

Hypocrisy as far as the eye can see.

But what do I know? Maybe Aunt Ida has always selected sweaters because they’re grotesque. Maybe she’s just that twisted and bitter after Uncle Charlie ran off with the meter maid.

And regardless of what I might believe about the sad state of sincerity at the holidays, I too participated in the ugly sweater craze, selecting an image of two dinosaurs in Santa hats dancing under a disco ball.

The damn thing lights up, too.

It would be just my luck to electrocute myself on Christmas Eve. Maybe they can bury me in my newest ugly sweater.

Aunt Ida, I’ll tell Uncle Charlie you said Merry Christmas.


chris.schillig@yahoo.com

@cschillig on Twitter