You guys. I have a confession to make. This is serious. I am part of a nationwide epidemic. I am complicit in the cultural normalization of something heinous.
I, Charlotte Graham, am part of the national obsession with ugly Christmas sweaters.
Phew. That feels good to get off my chest. 😉
There was a time, not so long ago, when ugly Christmas sweaters were considered, well, ugly. And no one wanted to be caught dead wearing one. There was a time when they were confined to Grandma’s closet in the 90s, a time when thrift stores couldn’t give them away, a time when being forced to wear one could have been punishment for an insolent child.
Not so, these days. You see, as my friend FattyMcCupcakes has explained so eloquently in a recent Shopper Lottie post, the burgeoning hipster trend of making ugly sweaters cool has caused not only a run on thrift stores, but a mass commercialization of a fashion trend so offensively hideous that the wearer ought to proffer apologies to all forced to look upon the garish array of sequins and pompoms.
Just as McCupcakes does in her brilliant piece, I really love to hate on hipsters (in a 90% joking way 😉 ). In general the hipster culture just really drives me nuts, what with the holier-than-thou obsession with all things vintage, organic, and indie.
However, recently, my husband uttered six words to me that left me reeling.
You are a hipster. Face it.
Of course I denied it. I mean, so what if I listen to NPR religiously, shop at the thrift store regularly (and not by financial necessity), only drink organic soy milk, and practically live in skinny jeans?
I countered back that I shop at Walmart, quite enjoy the occasional Starbucks drink, and love Taylor Swift. Surely these mainstream predilections absolve me of my otherwise potentially hipster tendencies!
Alas. Reading McCupcake’s piece in Shopper Lottie truly shone the light of truth upon my holiday hipster ways. I am part of the hipster movement that created the mass obsession with ugly Christmas sweaters, and I have to own up to it.
So obsessed was I with having a tacky Christmas, that I decorated our house as garishly as possible — neon lights strung up over a gaudy “noel” sign on the mantle, oodles of blindingly shiny tinsel on the tree, and gingerbread cookies shaped like ugly sweaters.
And of course we hosted an ugly sweater party, wherein I forced my guests to each decorate an ugly sweater cookie so that we could all vote on the ugliest of the ugly sweaters. The prize? A tacky Christmas mug, presumably from which to drink organic fair trade ethically sourced French pressed coffee. So predictable.
It is with head hung low and tail between my legs that I openly admit, for all the Interwebs to see, that I am part of the hipster problem that created ugly sweater hysteria.
Yours in fashion shame,