Julia Reed’s captivating essay, “The Party Line,” originally featured in Vogue’s December 1996 issue, transports us back to an era of extravagant Christmas celebrations. The piece isn’t merely a recounting of festive gatherings; it’s a poignant reflection on the shift in holiday traditions, a yearning for the magic and spontaneity that seem to have faded from modern celebrations.
Reed begins by detailing her recent shopping spree: a chocolate-brown wool jersey gown, aubergine chiffon cocktail dress, a navy silk Oscar de la Renta, and a black velvet Saint Laurent dress – a stunning wardrobe seemingly at odds with her confession of being “broke and devoid of anything to wear before eight o’clock.” This humorous juxtaposition sets the stage for her central theme: the desperate need for a truly exceptional Christmas party.
She dismisses the mundane office parties – the obligatory camaraderie, the rushed atmosphere, the lack of genuine festivity – painting a vivid contrast with the lavish celebrations of her youth. Reed’s memories of her mother’s legendary parties, each attended by at least 100 guests, are filled with sensory detail: garlands, a towering Christmas tree ablaze with lights, the aroma of homemade rolls and sherry-infused seafood Newburg. The guests themselves are described with equal vibrancy, their attire reflecting a commitment to festive glamour that is noticeably absent in today’s less formal gatherings. The author reminisces about the ’60s aesthetic: ladies adorned with hairpieces, dark makeup, and big earrings; men sporting red vests and holly-patterned attire. It wasn’t just about the clothes; it was about the energy, the heightened senses, the palpable sense of anticipation that something wonderful was about to happen.
Reed poignantly contrasts the forced merriment of New Year’s Eve parties with the sense of open-ended possibility inherent in Christmas celebrations. Christmas, she suggests, offers a unique opportunity for transformation; homes become temporary sets, fostering a sense of fantasy and escapism. This sentiment is amplified by her personal desire for a break from the relentless pressures of modern life – the demanding work schedule, the frantic holiday shopping, the exhausted family gatherings. She longs for a return to the magic, for a surprise, a spark, a moment of genuine joy and connection.
The essay takes a fascinating turn as Reed explores the evolution of her own holiday style, starting with childhood Christmases filled with whimsical costumes – an Indian chief outfit, a pink tutu, and a gypsy dress – and progressing to teenage years fueled by the fashion advice found in Mademoiselle and Glamour magazines. The stories woven throughout the essay are not just about clothes; they are about friendships, romance, and the unexpected encounters that often define the best holiday gatherings. She recounts a memorable kiss on a Victorian rooftop, a man accidentally locked in a festively decorated bathroom, and the emergence of long-lost relatives and friends adding unexpected spice to these celebrations.
The essay culminates in a heartfelt plea for a return to the spirit of those magical Christmas parties. It’s not about extravagance for its own sake; it’s about the possibility of unexpected connections, the thrill of the unknown, and the joy of shared moments. The closing image – a woman dressed in a new gown, her face dramatically made up, opening a metaphorical door to a festive surprise – encapsulates the essay’s essence perfectly: a longing for a return to the enchantment and possibility that Christmas parties once held. The final touch? A reflection on the simple pleasures of an Advent calendar, each little surprise a perfect metaphor for the unexpected joys of a truly magical Christmas celebration, a celebration as grand, intimate and surprising as the author’s beautifully written piece.
