Wrapping
Christmas Presents
I absolutely love wrapping Christmas presents. Doesn’t matter what the present
is: could be a deck of cards or a
cashmere sweater. Doesn’t matter
who the giftee is: could be my
beloved daughter or the anonymous mail carrier. All I need is to have beautiful and/or whimsical and/or
recycled papers, gorgeous ribbons (or at least lots and lots of cheap ribbon in
every conceivable holiday color, and/or yarn and twine), tons of Scotch tape,
decent scissors, and stick-on gift tags (I used to make them individually out
of the paper in which I’d wrapped a present, but that quickly became not-fun .
. . also hard to tell which present was destined for whom, as these sorts of
tags are inherently self-camouflaging).
Plus gifts to wrap. Plus
time to do so.
Not surprisingly, I come from a family of gift-wrapping
enthusiasts. Until arthritis made
the activity difficult, my mother wrapped elegant presents. She favored monochromatic papers and
elaborate bows; she’d experiment with color-on-color presentations (as in red
bow on red paper) or unusual color combinations (as in green paper with a
purple and silver bow). She’d turn
the rough edges of paper so all folds were plumb and didn’t show an ugly white underside. She’d arrange presents under the tree
carefully, with attention to size, hue, and sheen.
My father, on the other hand, was a devotee of quirky,
exuberant (aka slapdash) wrapping.
He’d use whatever paper was near at hand, for example, and embellish it
with a gold-ribbon initial indicating its recipient (easy enough in our family,
as we all had different initials) or a pasted-on Christmas tree cut from a
last-year’s holiday card. Plus
glue and sequins. Plus
tie-ons: for a few years, he
always ordered one (least expensive possible) thing for Mom from Neiman Marcus,
specifying store gift wrap, because those wrapped gifts would come festooned
with a gaudy ornament, which after Christmas would go into the wrappings box to
be used again and again and again.
I remember one such tie-on – a large Styrofoam and glitter ‘NOEL’ – that
we attached to packages for decades until it literally fell apart and was
reluctantly decommissioned.
Growing up, my sister and I were at a distinct disadvantage
in the family gift-wrapping frenzy.
The reason: we didn’t have
much money to buy presents, so we’d only have a handful to wrap. Our parents, though, believed that
having a bunch of gifts under the tree was a non-negotiable for the season – my
mother for aesthetic reasons (the tree would look ugly without them) and my
father for the-more-the-merrier-and-more-fun-on-Christmas-day reasons. Therefore, they were both quite
creative in multiplying presents-to-wrap-and-display in ways that our very modest
family budget could accommodate.
Examples:
--Wrapping paperback books they’d already read and thought
someone else might like.
--Wrapping things in a set (like three graduated mixing
bowls) separately.
--Wrapping things deceptively (like wrapping one new golf
ball [from Mom to Dad] in a large be-bowed box).
--Wrapping promises (‘I promise to take out the garbage
every week’; ‘I promise not to nag
you about taking out the garbage’) . . . this maneuver entails writing out the
promise, putting it in some sort of box, then: wrapaganza!
--Wrapping last-minute cheap junk (like a dollar jig-saw
puzzle or a Pez candy dispenser or a guilty-pleasure National Enquirer, all of which my dad would score from a night-before-Christmas
run to Walgreen’s) in manners suitable for inclusion in the under-tree pile.
--Wrapping presents in newspaper or semi-de-creased used
aluminum foil when we were out of ‘real’ Christmas paper.
Perhaps my strongest wrapping memory was generated when I
was a young married adult and my sister was a young affianced adult. On Christmas Eve we all gathered at my
parents’ house, some of us just having arrived . . . with (oh, the horror!)
unwrapped presents. After dinner,
my dad decided we should have a wrapping contest. While my sister and I (Mom had finished her wrapping – beautifully,
as always) labored over making pretty presents, our husbands/fiancés/fathers
got into a guy thing of constructing Dr. Seuss/Dr. Freud towers of ribbon-festooned
wrapping-paper tubes to affix to the presents proper. The winner, as I recall, was my sister’s fiancée, as his
creation was about five feet tall.
He was studying to be a psychologist, so go figure.
A wrapping temptation happened when I lived in Okinawa as a
military wife. We visited another
couple (a few years older) during the holidays: their tree and the gifts underneath were all done up in red
and white. Mrs. Captain was an
excellent artist and a cool person – she explained that she re-wrapped gifts
sent from state-side in glossy white paper and red bows in order to (1) reflect
her family’s Swedish heritage and (2) to look nice. As I’d just turned twenty-one, I was impressed . . . and
thought I might emulate (perhaps in different colors) Mrs. Captain’s holiday
artistry. Then we received a
Christmas box from home – gifts wrapped in my mom’s lovely manner and in my
dad’s distinctive sang-froid aesthetic.
Re-wrap those presents? No
way.
Over the years, I’ve enjoyed wrapping gifts with my
daughter, wrapping gifts with my parents, wrapping gifts for my parents (when
for different reasons, they were unable to wrap gifts themselves, but it was
always a collaboration – I’d drag out paper rolls and ribbons and ask them
which they’d think would be good for that particular gift and that particular recipient),
and . . . just wrapping gifts by myself.
This final wrapping scenario is the most difficult. How to keep the fun and creativity
alive when you have neither wrapping allies nor an immediate wrapping
audience? For me, it’s a three-fold
process.
First,
have materials that inspire/satisfy you.
I like to have on hand solid papers in red, green, gold, silver, and
blue. Plus complementary ribbons –
I need old-fashioned curling ribbon in all colors, plus sateen ribbons and
bows, plus my new favorite – wired ribbon (more expensive, but reusable for
years and years). It’s nice to
have gift-able tie-ons, like small ornaments or candy canes or jingle bells or
wine charms or a wire whisk. Then
there should be some patterned papers (I’m partial to snowflakes, polka dots,
and Christmas trees) for variety.
Second,
keep the recipient in mind. For
instance, one of my nephews really likes the color blue; my daughter enjoys
snow scenes; a good friend is more of a gold/brass accent person than a silver
accent person; a young relative adores penguins. Thinking of the gift-getter’s tastes as you select papers
and embellishments makes wrapping less a job than an interaction (a virtual
one, to be sure, but one that can be emotionally satisfying).
Third,
try something new (on at least one present). Origami animals or flowers instead of bows. Out-of-date road maps repurposed into colorfully
snazzy retro gift wrap. Tie-ons of
real balsam, holly, and mistletoe (or cinnamon sticks, clove and tangerine
pomanders, and sage sprigs) rather than the plastic variety. Clue tags (using the clues you provide
on a [very big] gift tag, recipients must guess what’s in the packages before
they can open them). Wrapping presents in fabric rather than paper.
Gift-wrapping can be like performance art: something you do with an aesthetic
purpose, with a recognition that such gestures are ultimately transient and all
the more magical because of their ephemeral nature – that wrapping Christmas
presents thoughtfully for people you care about is a creative expression of
love. It can also be a way of
continuing family traditions, or at least of commemorating and perpetuating
family holiday memories.