Fathers for Christmas

 Its that time of year again when I can shamelessly go back over past blogs about the Festive Season and so I apologise to those to whom the writing seems very familiar. If a first time reader then please just enjoy the sentiments and traditions that I, like many, enjoy so much.

Most fancy dress costumes come with no restrictions on behaviour, modesty or historical authenticity but then again that is the purpose of buying or hiring an outfit, it is a form of escapism, exhibitionism and a good excuse for some to act shamefully, recklessly and lewdly.

There is however one exception to the norm.

The decision to wear a Father Christmas suit automatically enrols you into the ethical code of that particular office.

I have briefly experienced the love, affection and respect embodied by the traditional Red Suit over the Festive Season and I have found it humbling and inspirational.

Although I have only worn the traditional robes a few times, on each occasion I have sensed that my very amateur and comic-book impersonation has filled a need in those I have crossed paths with, be they family, friends or just strangers in the street.

As for the historical background, well, the bright colours are widely thought to derive from the original Saint Nicholas, who was the Bishop of Myra, now in Turkey, in the 4th Century. Red and white were the hues of traditional bishop robes, although some historians argue that he originally dressed in different colours.

Saint Nick was famous for his kindness to children and generosity to the poor. After he died his legend grew and he is still remembered in some countries on 6th December.

In medieval England and for centuries afterwards, the figure of Father Christmas represented the spirit of benevolence and good cheer. In the 19th Century Dutch emigrants took their story of a legendary gift-bringer called Sinterklaas to America, where he eventually became known as Santa Claus.

Whilst the names and legends may differ, there has been little variation in the red and white outfits worn. However, over time the bishop cloak and mitre were replaced by the fur-trimmed suit. There are records of Santa wearing various coloured costumes, but red was by far the most popular and became known as the quintessential Father Christmas outfit.

Evidently then, Father Christmas is an evolutionary creation, influenced by folklore, legend and religion . He did not spring to life at a certain time, fully formed and wearing a red and white suit. It wasn't really until the late 19th Century that the image now recognised across the world became set.

In recent history the red and white suit has been fixed and standardised by certain publishing events and advertising campaigns. Between 1863 and 1886, Harper's Weekly magazine ran a series of engravings by Thomas Nast. He developed an image of Santa very close to the modern-day one. From these engravings the concept of Santa's workshop and the idea of writing letters to him also developed. There is the strong association with the modern representation of Father Christmas with the Coca-Cola Corporation whose  involvement began in in the early 1930's when the Swedish artist Haddon Sundblom started drawing ads for Coke featuring a fat Santa in a red coat trimmed with fur and secured with a large belt.

Whatever the source, it is through the benevolent figure of Father Christmas that children absorb the traditions of the season and then, in their later adult lives, they perpetuate the story for their own children or young relatives and friends.

I have seen first hand, in taking on the responsibility of wearing my shop bought suit,  the total acceptance of Father Christmas in situations of modern life where otherwise there would be no human contact, conversation or empathy.

On a stormy weather accompanied  short walk from my car (oops, VW Sleigh) to deliver family presents on Christmas Eve I was stopped on the pavement by a lady who took great obvious joy from handing back my fur trimmed hat that hat blown off in the prevailing gale. Passing motorists beeped their horns and revellers at a pub shouted out greetings. In the car park of my local Tesco I was asked to pose for a photograph by a young woman who was both shocked and thrilled to glimpse Santa. The children of a family friend, taking in their first ever Christmas in England shrieked in unison when my pale parody of Santa Claus called on them to hand over presents just hours before the real man was due to call.

On Boxing Day I was enlisted  to spring a surprise on family spending the holidays in the dramatic surroundings of Scarborough on the North Sea Coast. On another short walk from car to the hotel I was inundated with requests for a wave, a message or a picture. I received, by default, complete licence to wander around the splendid premises of the hotel, such is the total acceptance of Father Christmas.

The warm feeling inside me, discounting the extremely high temperatures generated by the plush velvety suit over my day clothes, was a privilege to behold.

It may sound a bit weird but I have actually added to the suit in the past year. Apparently there is a steady trade in faux fur trimmed Santa Boots, or at least I think that he is the main reason for them being manufactured.