https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2020/dec/23/loss-love-christmas-day-grief
christmas
Hawkin’s Bazaar and the Very Sexist Christmas
I spent the Christmas before last with my father. My Dad is a man for whom buying presents has never been a natural skill; I recall one year when all my siblings received an identical mug in the shape of a meerkat’s head. Everyone loves a good meerkat, right? However, that holiday season, he gave me what is easily my most treasured Christmas present ever. Feeling anxious about what to get us all, my Dad enlisted the help of a company called Hawkin’s Bazaar, which made pre-filled stockings according to the recipient’s age and gender. My brother received the ‘Teen Male’ version, which contained cool, interesting things like small gadgets and puzzles. My sister got the gender neutral kids version. The one he, quite reasonably, selected for me was called the ‘Adult Woman’ stocking. I will now tell you what Hawkin’s Bazaar thinks Adult Women want for Christmas:
Item 1: Soap
The first item I pulled out, eyes misty with yuletide anticipation, was a bar of His ‘n’ Hers soap. The ‘His’ section was a sliver at the end of the bar, with ‘Hers’ written across the rest. I furrowed my brow at the naff joke, but oh well, I can always use more soap. Don’t want to stink my way into the new year.
Item 2: Flower seeds
I don’t do gardening, and my Dad looked over, furrowed his brow too and admitted that he hadn’t actually checked the contents of the stocking before giving it to me. But we laughed, and I carried on opening my gifts. Here, things took a turn for the ludicrous.
Item 3: A pair of washing up gloves
These were a gorgeous pink pair of Marigolds, but with a sexy, girly twist. They had fluffy (fluffy? Have these people ever washed dishes before? Fluff and dishwater are no fantasy pairing) cuffs, with little diamante embellishing around the words ‘Not just a scrubber!’ My Dad and I began to look visibly uncomfortable. My little sister asked me why I was sad, and if I might like to play with her Rubik’s cube.
Item 4: Lemon flavoured lip-balm.
Nothing wrong with lip-balm, I hear you say. Shiny lips are nice, stops them getting too dry, everything scoring a big fat ‘neutral’ on a litmus test for sexism here. All true. Except that it said ‘God, I’m so bloody blonde sometimes’ on the lid, next to a picture of a fifties housewife clutching her head in despair. Also the lip-gloss tasted like fairy liquid, which made it just that little bit more galling.
Item 5: A ‘Make your Own Glitter Mosaic’ kit.
Because sure, all a girl really wants is some sparkly rocks to stick on other sparkly rocks. Better make sure I do it with my new gloves on though, wouldn’t want to chip a nail! I looked over to see my brother pull out a remote control helicopter.
Item 6: A drawing pad
This was a 100 page doodling notebook containing pictures of buff men on which the nether regions had been erased. It was my job to re-provide these needy guys with their junk, using a fluffy pink pen helpfully provided. At this juncture, my Dad snatched the stocking off me and began trying to confiscate the more offending items.
Item 7: A ‘join the dots’ game.
In case I wasn’t satisfied with all the poorly drawn penises the last present would afford, Hawkin’s Bazaar had me covered: I could draw lines between numbered dots to create yet more genitals. Dad buries his head in his hands and begins muttering about needing to check on the pigs in blankets.
Item 8: A Terry’s Chocolate Orange.
My Dad put this one in himself, but fuck you “Terry”, take your patriarchal confectionary somewhere else! WHERE’S TERRI’S CHOCOLATE ORANGES, HUH?? Or something.
So, instead of compiling our own sexist selections of Christmas gifts like Neanderthals, why not let Hawkins Bazaar do the leg-work for you? With ‘New Contents for 2015’, this year’s stocking will be sure to thrill. My predictions include a gold lamé strip of Microgynon, and a plastic steering wheel that you can affix to the glove compartment of your husband’s car.
Imogen West-Knights 