What To Put In Your Claus-et

Funny look with cart MrsC horizontal.jpg — Santa Fashion=Big North Pole $$$

If the suit doesn’t fit, don’t buy it. Hold onto your reindeer and what’s still in your wallet.
photo by Kitt Creative

I will miss being at Charles W. Howard Santa Claus School this year. I went in 2018 for the first time. It’s a special place I describe in this blog post. With Tom and Holly Valent as the directors, the focus is on the “heart of Santa” instead of the business and the busy-ness that can clog one’s mind.

But the business is important. We Clauses all need things to use and wear. At one of the hotels near Santa School, I breezed through the make-shift specialty store and found stickers, North Pole coins, striped socks, jingle bells, and all sorts of costumes—just not the right one for me—yet.

I was struck at just what a huge investment most of us make to become Santas (the gender-neutral word for Santas, Mrs. Clauses, and elves).

At Santa & Co., LLC., which had a display in the hotel, a good Santa robe starts at $699.95. Workshop overalls start at $309.95 because Santa has to have a standard work look. For thin Santas wanting to achieve that “bowl full of jelly” look, there are adjustable vest paddings for $174.95 with shoulder pads for $25 and 2 Kool Packs for $25. (Many Santas say the hardest part of their jobs is how hot they get, and no wonder).

Then there are shirts: button-down or pull-over with laces. Cotton or satin. Belts aren’t just belts but experiences, like the C.W. Howard Style Belt for $189.95 or the Cola Style Belt for $274.95.

Suits cost around $800, worth the investment. They come in a dizzying array of styles: Professional, Cola, New Classic, Classic. Many men I met knew exactly what each of these words meant. The Cola, for example, is based on the old-fashioned Coca Cola ads that emphasize the buttons down the front of the suit with no fur around the neck.

Now let’s talk fashion for Mrs. C.

At the store in the hotel, I tried on a gorgeous colonial dress that was several sizes too large. Right away, I felt it didn’t fit my personality. I felt ridiculous, even though I adored the style and concept. I did love the dresses that matched Santa’s suits. Made of red wool with satin linings and faux fur trim, they were excellent quality but not quite me. But almost.

Online, I’ve been finding offensively sexy outfits like this beauty:

$39.99, Neilyoshop on Amazon Prime. Note the fur booties for … warmth?

No. Uh-uh. I have potholders bigger than this. Tiny elves wear more fabric.

This pretty one has the opposite problem, too much material for a big, animated girl like me. One swoosh of the voluminous skirts, and I knock down everything in my apartment while breaking my neck as I rush down the stairs or get caught in a cab door:

The nice standard ones on Amazon are so cute. I have one, but so does everyone else. And white fur doesn’t do well on the subway, my main form of transportation when I can’t use the sleigh.

What I’m looking for is the Mrs. C version of a Superman suit, something I can change into quickly in a bathroom stall, since NYC telephone booths are a thing of the past. I need something with pockets that looks dressy, like I’m going to Wall Street to check on cookies (and coal) stocks. Something with a high collar and detachable parts: a jacket, a skirt, and a blouse. I’m tall. I can’t hide it. So how about I look taller with vertical stripes? Something relentlessly cheerful in red and green with a bit of humor, a visual pun. This fantasy item must fit into a small NYC closet or a garment bag. No fur, please. Fur turns pink and is stressful.

If all of this sounds like an online dating profile, you’re sort of right.

My future dream garment will be with me for a long time, like a good Santa.

Since I can’t find what I want, I’m designing one—a garment, that is—not a sweetheart.