GIFTING, REGIFTING AND GIVING GIFT THAT COUNTS
AS my mother unwrapped the gift from Nanna, we all gasped in surprise.
Inside the small box was a sparkling, crystal Christmas tree. And not just any crystal Christmas tree … it was the very one my mother had given Nanna two years ago.
Regifting … it’s literally the gift that keeps on giving.
While Nanna is gone, the tree lives on … as does this dirty festive secret. But, just like that damn tree, it seems regifting is finally coming out of the closet.
While yesterday was the American-imported Black Friday sales day (in the US it’s the day after the Thanksgiving holiday and is akin to our Boxing Day discounts), today is the lesser known Buy Nothing Day.
It’s an international day of protest against consumerism with more than 65 countries participating. But just like Movember, it goes against my very nature. (To be clear: I embrace supporting men’s health … I just can’t grow a moustache. Yet.)
Whether it’s the grocery store, the chemist, the cafe or clothing stores, I’m practically a professional shopper. In fact, I consider Pacific Fair my spiritual home – and the feeling is mutual. When I enter certain retailers there it’s like an episode of Cheers … everybody knows my name – and they’re always glad I came.
But over the past few years, Buy Nothing Day has begun morphing into a trend towards Buy Nothing Christmas. And I must admit, I’m tempted to take part.
Maybe it’s in my DNA. After all, Nanna would absolutely love it (God rest her soul).
With my children’s schooling year now officially over, the past few weeks have seen a flurry of credit card activity … Secret Santa gifts, teacher gifts, gifts for special friends, gifts for mums.
With each gift, a monetary limit is implied – or even explicitly set … $10, $15. Regardless, I can’t help but feel that all I’ve done is buy a heap of crap that will end up on the scrapheap within the next four weeks.
Even with my own children and their Christmas wish lists, I’m at a (financial) loss. I don’t mind spending money on something they really want – but all they want is more technology and screens and I am so done with that.
I’m sure I (or they) will be able to think of a few items they desire, but the pressure is on to fill up all that space under the tree. And that’s where Kmart comes in. And two months later, that’s when Kmart goes back out … to the rubbish bin.
I know it’s wrong, but it’s also real. As a parent, and especially at Christmas, I feel the pressure to make the day magical. Yes, it’s all about family (and food) but I only have a couple more years to witness their unadulterated delight on the big day.
By the time they are teens, I feel like iPhones and cash will be the name of the game.
In the meantime, I’m torn between the guilt of not buying enough and buying too much. I don’t want to be that Grinch, but I also don’t want to be wasteful – in terms of money or consumption.
And more importantly, I don’t want them to think that’s how life is. That not only do you always get what you ask for, you get even more.
Yes, I have boundaries – no phones til you get married is the official family line – but I fear they need revising (and not just because they may not be the marrying type).
The best I’ve felt about shopping – yes, even better than when I got 50 per cent off the cutest dress in the Black Friday sales (which have actually been happening all week, confusing much?) – was when I participated in a Reverse Advent Calendar group.
Back when I was a kid, the Advent calendar was merely a paper poster – we opened one door per day and the excitement existed simply in the fact we were visibly growing ever closer to Christmas. But these days even the Advent calendar is about buying stuff – chocolates, lollies, little gifts. No wonder I’m experiencing existential retail exhaustion.
The reverse Advent calendar, however, is all about buying something each day for someone in need. My group donated to a women’s shelter, and so I bought toothbrushes, deodorant, notebooks, plus toys and books for the kids who arrive with their mum … and nothing else.
Geez, it felt good. It made me so grateful for the safe and happy life I get to live, and so hopeful for those women.
Not only did I get to shop, but I knew my purchases were making a difference. I was really buying something: hope. These women gave their children the gift of life, now they were giving the gift of a better life. And that’s what I call regifting.