There is a debate going on in my house about the environmental ethics of a fake versus a real Christmas tree. Multiple websites have been consulted and arguments marshalled; opinion is divided, as they say, but there are no shortage of experts with instructions and advice as to how to make our domestic festive ambience perfect.
There is an abundance of instruction to help us achieve perfection in relation to all other Christmas challenges. Indeed, perfect is the most overused word of November and December; as well as a perfect tree, there are perfect presents and of course, the perfect dinner. There is no perfect family, but there are multiple agony aunts to bring harmony where there is discord.
Chef Rory O’Connell is keen to show us “How to cook well” this Christmas. So much so that he needs two programmes. His suggestions include “red onion, bacon and cabbage broth, turkey and Romanesco pilaf, and shaved fennel and kumquat salad with Ardsallagh goat’s milk feta”.
These perfect dishes can be achieved without stress, we are promised, even for those who have never heard of kumquat. There has long been reference to the “perfect roast potatoes” at Christmas, but many will tell you now it would be best to have three types of potatoes for the dinner of all dinners.
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Setting the perfect Christmas table is a matter of intrinsic, lifelong importance according to one Irish stylist and interior designer: “What makes for a good tablescape is as subjective as any other interior design or styling choice; however, there are a few rules and adhering to them will help you create a picture-perfect festive table ... The first step in designing a Christmas table is to decide on a theme for your look.
You might want to reference the overall theme of your home’s Christmas decor or else branch out to a complimentary look, but cohesion and a whole-home approach are key to wowing guests”. It is where memories are made, after all, especially with “the incorporation of heritage and heirloom pieces into your decor, curating a table that is not only impactful but deeply personal”.
Do not, on any account, forget the importance of the perfect Christmas hairstyling. Dyson has the solution to that, with their Airwrap id Multi-Styler and Dryer. It costs €550, but you need to focus on what you will get for that, as “the concept behind the device is its ability to recognise your personal styling needs and automatically adjust settings via Bluetooth, such as ‘wrapping’ time (securing your hair around the barrel) and cool shot duration, to suit your exact hair type – with the aim of delivering a style that lasts longer”.
There are perfect Christmas films too, depending on the temperament of the viewers. My suggestion is not really a film, but a Netflix documentary called Buy Now! The Shopping Conspiracy, which documents the obscene marketing strategies of those intent on selling ever more clothes that are not needed. Such commercial strategies include those silly Christmas jumpers.
One waste investigator, reflecting on the tsunami of greenwashing and lies wrapped up in pious declarations of recycling “solutions” reminds us that waste can only go in the ground, the air or the water and that “there is no away” when it comes to the afterlife of the detritus. Another contributor, reflecting on a world where 13 million mobile phones are dumped every day, dispenses perfect sartorial advice, reminding us “There is too much clothing in the world. Just fu**ing stop.”
That directive could be usefully applied to other Christmas indulgences, including the perfect Christmas crackers, with their useless tat, also heading for landfill, and microplastic glitter that will end up contaminating water and poisoning fish.
There are even polls conducted about the Christmas adverts most looked forward to. Magic, fantasy, luxury and enchantment dominate the lexicon of Christmas while 3,000 Christmas food parcels from the Capuchin Centre in Dublin are not remotely enough to satisfy demand and distress in this wealthy republic.
My father has always given the same answer when asked what he wants for Christmas: “a bit of peace and quiet”. It’s the best answer. Back in the 1970s, his mother, when she finished the Christmas dinner in our house, used to fold her arms and say “well, that’s it now for another year; I don’t know what all the fuss was about”. A wise old woman, and that was well before the mania of the contemporary quests for perfection.
Write a letter. Light a candle. Listen to Leontyne Price singing a carol. Drink a large nightcap. Dance if you want. Go to bed. Plunge into the sea; at least you are honouring a long-practised custom, albeit without the dry robe, and after you have warmed up, reject perfection is all its greedy, grabbing guises.