Christmas Comes But Once A Year

So last weekend, after a fantastic Saturday night out at Last Days of Decadence, I decided to cycle into town to get my brother's birthday present; he'd asked for a lovely blue v-neck jumper, and I had an idea that Selfridges would be a good start. After looking at the Uniqlo cashmere (soft, but not that good quality, and terrible cut), and French Connection (OK, but no better than Topman), I found him one with bliss simple detailing, no massive logos (just a small tag to the waist) and in a lovely cobalt azure in Paul Smith - it's a joint birthday/Xmas present. I bought it, and the nice man wrapped it in the bag above; instantly, I felt the Xmas cheer. I cycled along the back roads of Mayfair towards Liberty with the bag high over my back, wishing glad tidings to many and feeling rather jolly. Then, as I came into Liberty, what should come on the tannoy but 'Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire', the old-school, Bing Crosby version. I melted. It was so Christmassy that I almost cried. I wandered around in a state of total bliss, getting a birthday card and some Aveda shampoo, and then being very seriously tempted by the Dries, APC and Margiela in the menswear section. Luckily, I wasn't too tempted, but on the way back, I stopped off at Habitat and bought some lovely sequinned Xmas decorations, and wrapping paper! It may not even be December yet, but the Christmas spirit is here. I'm determined to get everything ASAP; not that there's much to get, but I want to have it sorted while I'm still in a jolly mood. This time of year can induce simultaneous rapture and bile in me, so best to strike while the chestnuts are hot.