Every year growing up, there was something I looked forward to at the end of August almost as much as my birthday. Sometimes, it would happen just before it. Sometimes the day after. And sometimes, it would drop on the big day itself. I’m talking about…the arrival of the JCPenney Christmas catalog in the mail. Or “Big Gift Book” or “Wish Book” depending on what they decided to call it that season.

God I loved these things. I’ve talked about it in multiple headers by now, but fuck, these catalogs were pure capitalist magic. The kind of capitalism that makes me proud to be an American. These bad boys were almost as thick as a phonebook and twice as snuggle worthy. You could cuddle up with a blanket and just flip through them and imagine Santa leaving its wonders under your tree that year. Or you could look at shit Santa isn’t supposed to deliver like winter bedding and camcorders. Or you could look at pictures of people in pajamas and go “yeah, those are some pretty cute pajamas. Those folks sure do look happy, wearing those cute pajamas. Maybe the cure to my depression is to buy those cute pajamas.”

And I haven’t even mentioned the smell. Wait! Don’t run away from the header! I’m not being weird! But these things had a very distinct aroma that is very hard to describe. To me they smelled like Christmas. To you they might smell like something else. It’s almost impossible to explain since it was so fucking unique. Like trying to tell someone how a Subway restaurant smells, except far more pleasant. I would just stick my face in them (the catalogs, not the Subway restaurant) and take it all in. Okay, maybe this is getting weird now.

Have a festive night, y’all. Be safe, be well, be you! And DON’T attempt to smell this header! That would just mean pressing your nose against a screen, and that would be silly!