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The Night Before Christmas
by Chas Ray Krider
When you grow up, you learn that there are two Christmases: the one for children and the one for adults.
The one for children is pure, kinetic, brightly lit and all-at-once: a 6 a.m. riot of shiny paper, easterly sunlight, bathrobes and bacon and eggs. It starts with a ruckus and proceeds apace throughout the morning, a blizzard of bliss.
Adult Christmas is a different affair altogether. Slow, slurred and dimly lit, it takes place the night before in tumblers of eggnog and Scotch and it reeks of lechery. Parents get tipsy and leer at each other in ways that Thanksgiving and Easter donšt inspire. Itšs the secrecy of it all: Shh! The kids! they whisper as they grope for each otheršs asses.
Chas Ray Krideršs photos of adult Christmas show exactly the kind of scene I started to imagine was going on downstairs when I got old enough to think that way but was still young enough to go to bed early on Christmas Eve a secret world of liquor and sex and Santa hats that I couldnšt wait to grow up and experience. His set pieces the shadowy lamplight, the avocado shag, the rotary telephones, the stockings, the girls are a pitch perfect example of how holiday cheer can come in many forms. Will Doig
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