Life, 1920-12-02 · page 31 of 97
Life — December 2, 1920 — page 31: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This satirical story mocks the commercialized chaos of Christmas shopping. The narrative follows an unnamed woman experiencing the frenzy of holiday retail—she spends her morning frantically purchasing thirty-three gifts at "Cochrane's" department store, accumulating frivolous items like pin cushions, vanity cases, and bud vases. The satire lies in the contrast between her ecstatic shopping fervor and her actual emotional state: exhausted, she collapses at home, finds her purchases "tawdry" and "worthless," and admits her soul "loathed them." Yet she still wraps everything beautifully and signs the Santa Claus cards with "My best love." The caption photo shows a child asking about Santa Claus, emphasizing the irony—Christmas gift-giving has become a hollow, compulsive ritual divorced from genuine sentiment or spiritual meaning. The accompanying "Just Right" joke about skates that fall off comments on product quality amid commercialism. The piece critiques consumer culture's transformation of Christmas into mindless material acquisition.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
December 2, 1920 “ Mamma, does God know there’s a Santa Cl. The Blewed Giver (A Christmas Episode) T was her annual turn to be first out of the house that morning. “Christmas shopping!” she told him breathlessly. By nine a, mM. she was gurgling ecstati- cally at the ribbon counter of Cochrane's. “What darlings!” she panted to the woman next to her. “ That pink Dresden boudoir cap! And that blue Dresden holder!" By ten a. M., distractedly happy, she was pushing by other women in the aisles, laden with one lace and yellow rib- bon pin cushion, one vanity case, five daily reminders, three georgette camisoles, two novelty inkstands, two ivory trays, six bud vases and three whisk-broom holders. There was a true Yuletide spirit in the air—there were Christmas trees around every pillar, loops of golden tinsel hang- ing from the high ceiling, and the phono- graphs were playing “Holy Night store She hugged her parcels tightly and gasped into the last chair in the rest room. She stacked them up rapturously in her lap and burrowed into her purse for the list. There were only thirty-three more to buy, and everything was so “ Christ- massy,” and Cochrane’s had only “nice” things. She stood up, clenched her packages and hurried to the stationery department —she hurried to the jewelry counter—she hurried to the art-goods section—she pushed into the Christmas lingerie booth —and jostled her way out of the store. She waited for a car. She stumbled on to one—dropped three packages and tried to pick them up herself and knocked a horn out of a baby’s grasp, but managed to thank the man who did pick them up. She squeezed away from the bawling baby, and by holding two packages un- der her arm, and four in her left hand, succeeded in swaying from a strap. She arrived at her street, pushed her way out of the car, and hobbled down the steps aus? She dragged up the block, crawled up her steps, faintly Yes, back again, Nora,” as she was let in, and stumbled said, into her bedroom. She flung the bed, ripped off her hat and lay down beside them. Tawdry trash, She knew it. soul she loathed them. After took off her looked in the mirror, fixed her hair, pow- packages on the worthless In her awhile she coat, dered her nose. She seized the packages. Patiently she decked them all in white tissue ribbon and_ holly Claus cards she wrote, “ My best love and a Merry Christ- mas!” r, red baby seals. On the Santa Nancy D. Duntea. Just Right USTOMER: I want to get a pair of skates for a young lady Cierk solutely Here's just the skate, sir; guaranteed to come off wit five minutes comicbooks.com