I hate Christmas. Maybe hate is too strong of a word. I’m not a misanthropic Scrooge who meets Secret Santa exchanges with a grumpy “Bah! Humbug!” But I have conflicted feelings about the holiday.
As a little girl, I—like most children—counted down to Christmas morning with giddy impatience. I couldn’t wait to cross the bridge to my grandma’s house in Marin County and eat her gingerbread. In my memory, December 25th glows with string lights and See’s candy.
But today the light of Christmas has dimmed.
I don’t anxiously await the moment when I can finally open my presents (after all, as an adult, if I ever want a Coach bag or a new iPhone, I can just buy it). The holiday season is no longer just a jubilant period of cheer and celebration—it’s a hectic whirlwind of pressure and stress.
On one hand, we look forward to Christmas with childlike excitement. Poinsettias and sugar cookies, the merriment of Bing Crosby and Christmas lights: there’s something magical about this time of year.
But alongside the sparkly joy of unwrapping presents are the tossed out leftovers, the maxed out credit cards, the unwanted gifts, the mountains of tissue paper.
While most feel glee under the Christmas tree’s twinkling lights, I can’t help but feel a tinge of guilt. I imagine all the money wasted, the red and green wrapping paper piling in a landfill. At the end of the day, I have a box overflowing with presents that I don’t really want and certainly don’t need. A pink purse (I despise pink), cute but sadly-not-my-style socks, a throw blanket that doesn’t match my home’s color scheme.
Gifts are meant to be expressions of love but they’re often burdens to the people who receive them—a pair of pajamas is yet another thing we have to add to the clutter in our already overstuffed closets.
This year I started to wonder: what are we really celebrating and what does it truly cost—our planet and our wallets?
Though Christmas is meant to be a season of gratitude and good will, most of us spend the first 25 days of December frantically searching for random crap that will most likely be forgotten by January 1st.
The season of candy canes and mistletoe is also the season of spectacular waste.
Our earth is engulfed in flames.
Yet this holiday season Americans are projected to spend more than 1 trillion dollars on things no one wants or needs.
The environmental costs are staggering. Gas-guzzling Amazon trucks roar through neighborhoods, cargo planes streak the sky, container ships cut through oceans—all burning fossil fuels to deliver gifts that likely won’t last more than a season. Our total consumption over just three days of Christmas festivities can result in as much as 650 kg of carbon dioxide emissions (CO2) per person–an astounding 5.5% of our total annual carbon footprint.
Waste multiples around the holidays. According to the Environmental Protection Agency, in the U.S., household garbage tends to increase around 25 percent in the weeks between Christmas and New Year’s Day. 540,000 tonnes of wrapping paper—the equivalent of the weight of 100,000 elephants or 4.5 CN Towers—ends up in landfills following the holidays.
Every year after Christmas, I struggle to carry mountains of boxes and bubble wrap to my apartment’s recycling bin. Standing there in the bitter December cold, wedging yet another cardboard box into the already overflowing bin, I’m disgusted by our conscious-less consumption. My heap of cardboard only fuels global warming’s flames. But in a few days, all the evidence of my excess will be forgotten when its conveniently shipped away.
Much of this waste is generated by buying people things they don’t even want in the first place. Over half of us (53%) will receive unwanted gifts this holiday season, many of which will be used once and then forgotten. One 2017 study found that nearly one-third of people who accepted a gift they didn’t like simply threw it in the trash.
Even if you return all your novelty mugs and bath robes, it won’t entirely solve the environmental crisis. Every year, retailers infamously dump about 25% of returned products (the equivalent of 5 billion pounds).
You might think you’re doing a good deed by donating that hideous reindeer sweater your grandma got you to Goodwill, but donating isn’t a cure all—it just delays an item’s inevitable resting place at the landfill. In the weeks following Christmas, thrift stores experience a sharp surge in donations with some stores reporting they see 1-2 times their usual volume—far more than they can realistically sell.
Christmas has serious economic costs as well.
Twenty years ago, University of Minnesota economics professor Joel Waldfogel coined the term “deadweight loss of Christmas” in a small paper in the American Economic Review. The theory argues that holiday gift giving results in economic loss because the gift recipient often values the gift less than the gift giver paid for it. For example, your Aunt Dolly might spend $20 on a “live, laugh, love” pillow for you that you wouldn’t pay a $1 for. Waldfogel calls this “dead weight” because it’s a waste. As Waldfogel explains in a PBS News interview: “It’s a loss to one party that’s not offset as a gain.”
In most giving situations, at least one party gains. For example, if I give a homeless man $5, that’s a loss to me, but it’s a gain for him.
However, the holiday season is often a lose, lose game: we buy our loved ones things they don’t want or need and waste our money doing it.
Christmas is the equivalent of setting our hard-earned money on fire in a trash can.
So how can we have a more sustainable Christmas and buy gifts that won’t end up in the wastebasket?
#1 ask what people want
In my immediate family, we simply exchange Christmas lists.
But—I can hear gift-giving purists protest—isn’t that cheating? Doesn’t buying something off a ready made list make the act of gift-giving too convenient and, therefore, ruin the holiday’s magic and meaning?
I’m reminded of a scene from a 30 Rock Christmas episode. For the first time, Jack and Liz agree to exchange Christmas presents.
“So what do you want?” the ever practical Ms. Lemon asks.
Jack is offended by the question.
“Excuse me? Gift giving is the purest expression of friendship. I’m going to think about what I know and like about you and that will lead me to the perfect gift.”
According to Jack, gift-giving is the strongest symbol of affection. Rather than simply ask “what do you want” (which constitutes a kind of unforgivable shortcut), the giver should meditate on what they know about the recipient.
We later learn Jack’s gift giving talent is unmatched. His assistant Jonathan warns Liz of the impossibility of ever beating him: “I bought him a $100 bottle of olive oil; he got my sister out of a North Korean prison.”
The problem with gift giving is most of us aren’t Jack Donaghy: we don’t have the time or money (or just aren’t attentive enough) to find the most “perfect” gift. If you’re anything like me, you buy your gifts in a frenzy a few days before Santa’s supposed to claim his cookies.
The result?
Your gifts are met with a polite but insincere “thank you, you shouldn’t have.”
Studies have found people are happier getting gifts listed in their gift registry than unsolicited gifts, and in some cases they’re happier still to receive cash.
So rather than struggle to be a Jack, accept you’re a Liz. Just ask people what they want so your loved ones can have a truly merry (and less wasteful) Christmas.
#2 personalize your gifts
If you’re really dedicated to being a Jack-level gift giver and want to maintain some of the surprise on Christmas morning, opt for the personal over the generic. A great gift isn’t always expensive—even a luxurious bottle of olive oil can feel thoughtless if the gift recipient rarely uses their kitchen. The key to a great gift is personalization. As Alyse Dermer, the founder of Mr. Considerate, a luxury gift concierge service, attests, “What makes a great gift is something that makes somebody feel seen. People love when you remember something that they’ve said. It’s about connecting.”
Throughout the year, keep a running list of things your loved ones mention so you’re not scrambling the week of the holiday. If you’re out shopping with your sister and she longingly caresses a cashmere coat, take note. If your mother-in-law loves lavish candles but could never justify spending upwards of $50, treat her (after all, isn’t gift giving about indulging the ones we love in ways they’d never do for themselves?).
Or resurrect the childhood delight of making paper and doily hearts and craft your loved ones something. A beautifully matted and framed memory. A coffee table book of shots from their summer sojourn to Rome (studies show looking at old travel photos can stir warm memories and actually boost our mood). A carefully curated record of your significant other’s favorite songs. (I did this for my boyfriend one year. It’s a thoughtful gift and, for my older millennials, recalls the adolescent joy of making a personalized mix CD).
A frame of a fond memory or a hand-selected album will hang proudly on their wall—not end up in a trash can or donation bin. Such customized gifts are far more meaningful than swiping your credit card at TJ Maxx.
#3 give experiences rather than objects
Most of us have enough things. Study after study confirms that experiences deliver more lasting happiness than material objects. Experiences expand our sense of identity. As Travis Bradberry writes, “We are not our possessions, but we are the accumulation of everything we’ve seen, the things we’ve done, and the places we’ve been.”
Experiences engrain themselves in our memories—the pleasure of possessions quickly dissipates. So say “no” to stuff and treat someone you love to an unforgettable experience this holiday.
Your spouse an unrepentant cinephile? Get them tickets to an independent film festival. Does your bookish pal spend all their free time in used bookstores? Splurge and treat them to a year long subscription to the Paris Review or the New Yorker. Your significant other a foodie? Exchange your usual Netflix and chill date for a local food tour or a wine tasting. Your luxury-loving sister appreciate the finer things in life? Go to a fancy hotel and rejoice in something ridiculously bougie like high tea.
You’ll spare their closets more clutter and create enduring memories.
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