If we have gleaned anything from the influx of holiday movies, ubiquitous decorations, and festively themed songs, it's that the popular narrative has determined Christmas is a holiday best served cold. Whatever!
The powers that be in the top of the equator may have convinced the world, but that's only because they are without the inherent understanding we denizens of the south possess: a warm Christmas is simply superior. This season is stressful enough – irrespective of temperature – but at least we don't have to battle seasonal depression on top of it all.
And this isn't just an empty claim. I spent my formative years experiencing cold festive seasons. Despite my family hailing from New Zealand, my father's career meant inevitable international moves. My younger years were scattered across the UK and the US, meaning every December brought dark skies by 4pm and a biting chill on my cheeks. The sole silver lining? The fashion choices; bundling up is inherently stylish.
In fairness, a cold Christmas has its charms. It's traditional, iconic, and the prospect of snow is undeniably magical. The snug appeal of a chilly celebration is hard to disregard. Yet, with my extended family an ocean away, I always felt I was missing out an authentic celebration that not even the richest hot chocolate could replicate.
Everything changed when another move brought my family to Australia. There, I finally experienced a proper festive family affair, joined by more family for the first time. With a bigger crowd to entertain, my father got creative in the kitchen, crafting a heavily marinated vodka jelly that was famously strong. We all slept well that night.
This became our tradition for years – celebrating together with family and friends, complete with water gun fights across the table. That was, until my parents answered the call of a new job and moved to a particularly cold part of northern England.
Visiting them for Christmas after a long absence, I expected a wave of nostalgic longing. Instead, I found myself yearning for everything that made a summer Christmas special. Enjoying a cool drink in the sun. Feasting upon piles of fresh fruit. Loved ones being just a phone call away. Vibrant sunsets stretched across the sky. Suddenly, I was a summer celebration advocate.
"That summer heat soothed the sorrow in monumental ways."
This feeling was cemented after my father passed away. My mother decided to return home to New Zealand. The first Christmas without him was incredibly tough, his loss palpable everywhere. Yet, being once again surrounded by family under the soft warmth of the summer sun helped ease the grief in profound ways.
All this said, I must confess to being a walking contradiction. This year, I'll be spending Christmas during winter in South Korea, and I'm genuinely excited to explore Seoul in my fluffiest coat, hoping for a snowfall. The frosty festive ideal still has a little hold on me!
Still, I'm eager to return home for another New Year's Day under the Australian summer sun. Knowing my family – including a newborn nephew – will be close by as we enter the new year fills me with a joy my younger self always craved. Not even the fluffiest snow can hold a candle to that feeling.
Music enthusiast and critic with a passion for uncovering emerging artists and sharing unique sounds that resonate with listeners.