Julie Jay: I’ve a niggling suspicion that Mrs Claus does more than bake cookies

To those objecting to the ad’s supppsed ‘wokeness’ please remember that there are very few problems which can’t be solved by a good scrub

Julie Jay: "Curious to see why ‘Boycott Boots’ was trending on X (formerly Twitter) , I watched this controversial festive campaign and was even more baffled what the fuss was about." 

A few weeks ago, I caught wind of a bit of a furore in relation to the Boots Christmas ad, because I’m current like that.

Curious to see why ‘Boycott Boots’ was trending on X (formerly Twitter) , I watched this controversial festive campaign and was even more baffled what the fuss was about.

The ad depicted Mrs Claus hard at work while Mr Claus slept on, oblivious to the gift-creation going on under the watchful eyes of his wife, played by Bridgerton’s Adjoa Andoh. People decried the gender stereotyping and were also riled by the use of gender-inclusive pronouns, when a present was described as ‘very them’.

Personally, I loved the ad and the fact that women were being placed front and centre of the campaign. Needless to say, we wouldn’t have Christmas without the Big Man himself, and, for that, we will always be indebted. 

But, in my experience, the women in my world keep Christmas going and get the show on the road.

Don’t get me wrong: My husband does ‘bring things to the table’, but it is the mammies who are usually armed with the lists and appropriately priced stocking fillers.

Christmas, quite simply, wouldn’t happen without the women slogging away and bringing it all in to being. I recall a work colleague years ago coming down with the flu the day before Christmas Eve. As she retired to bed early that evening, feeling like death warmed up, she bemoaned the fact that she hadn’t prepped all the food and wrapped the presents for the following day.

“Don’t worry,” her husband had consoled her. “It’ll be all there for you in the morning.”

Similarly, another friend recalls the time that she visited her old housemate and his new wife for their annual December dinner party. As my friend and her old buddy were deeply engrossed in a chin wag, she noticed that his wife had automatically started to do the washing-up.

When my friend suggested she sit down and join them, this newlywed woman insisted she’d prefer to get the cleaning-up out of the way.

“Don’t be silly,” her husband chuckled. “You can do that later. Sit down with us.”

He didn’t notice anything wrong with his statement, but my friend had one more glass of wine before making her excuses. She never returned for a December dinner party with a side dish of sexism again.

The entrenched sexism in Christmas preparations is so prevalent that it is alarming the casualness with which these types of corkers are delivered and the regularity with which women are reminded that the weight of holiday joy is very much on their shoulders.

While eternally grateful to Santa for giving us so much Christmas magic over the years, I can’t help but have the niggling suspicion that when it comes to North Pole operations, Mrs Claus does a little bit more than bake cookies. 

Surely, it is Mrs Claus who organises the lists of who has been naughty and nice, no doubt doing so using an Excel Spreadsheet and a back-up hard drive, just in case.

In households up and down the land, the equivalent of Mrs Claus is everywhere, determined to maintain the magic and ensure everyone has a Christmas to remember. 

Pantomime tickets have been booked for weeks, Kris Kindle names have been drawn, and turkeys have been ordered before Americans have even considered purchasing pumpkin pies for Thanksgiving.

As much as the more relaxed family members might encourage us to chill with the to-do lists and the preparations, Christmas isn’t something that just happens. Christmas is the culmination of organisation and getting bogged down in the small details. It is the zenith of preparation, fussing, and getting your ducks in a row.

When it comes to Christmas, not all spouses are equal. Obviously, children rule the roost, but, invariably, one adult will have to step away from the Advent calendar for long enough to realise that same calendar had to be purchased, positioned, and monitored for fear of cheeky robberies.

What the Boots ad captured so well is that while others are sleeping, one person is always working overtime, well in to the wee hours, to ensure presents are wrapped and potato stuffing is ready to rock. 

The aspiration of eight hours of sleep goes out the window when little people are relying on you to have everything under control, even when your mince pie pastry is falling apart.

The irony about those objecting to the gendered stereotyping of the Boots festive ad campaign is that many of them are likely the same customers descending upon their nearest store at 5.45pm on Christmas Eve to purchase a gift, any gift, for the person who has been filling the spare room with miscellaneous boxes and bags for weeks.

Invariably, Boots will have some scented body scrubs floating around, and the same person who once posted ‘Boycott Boots’ will not alone recant, but will probably be thrilled with their free No 7 voucher. Perhaps the same keyboard critic will even use this voucher to treat themselves to a nice cream and will understand, at that moment, that a good scrub can solve many problems.

Either way, this Christmas, let’s remember to thank our own equivalent of Mrs Claus, who made it all happen. And, this year, she doesn’t want magic potions or body scrubs or things that contain glitter, she simply wants an acknowledgement that when it comes to Christmas, behind every man in a sleigh there is a woman giving directions.