Scared Of Santa

When I was a kid, the only Santa worth going to see was Switzer’s Santa on Grafton Street. My parents, my sister and I would stand in line with hundreds of other families in the freezing cold and the line would stretch around the building for what seemed like miles. Back then the windows of the shop would be full of wonderful mechanical scenes of elves in their workshops busily nailing together wooden toys, singing carols and feeding the reindeer. Nowadays Switzers is no more and Brown Thomas stands in it’s place. They did away with the Christmas windows in favour of glitzy mannikins wearing skimpy Santa lingerie and designer gowns. I guess there was no profit in the old Santa’s workshop ones.
Going to see Switzer’s Santa is one of my best Christmas memories because, of course, Switzer’s Santa was the real one. All the others were just Santa’s helpers and that, my mother assured me, is why I could see the stitching on their beards. This became my method of sorting out the real from the stand-ins and the beard on Switzer’s Santa was fluffy and white and seamless.
I don’t remember ever being scared of sitting on Santa’s knee but this webpage gave me a laugh. I can’t say I blame the kids in a lot of these photos…I bet they’ve just spotted the seams: Scared of Santa
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