As a child, I was keenly aware of the inequitable practices of the tooth fairy, Santa Claus and the so-called Easter Bunny. How could it be that my teeth were less valuable than Abbie Smith-Arthur’s? Why was my stocking sock-sized, and the Walter boys next door had novelty sacks the size of their sofa? For what reason did I get but one big Easter egg, and Bethany down the road got 11?
If I was a child today, I would be even more confused (and radicalised), thanks to the relentless rise of “Eastermas”. More than quarter of British adults now buy Easter presents, giving their loved ones not only chocolate but flowers, toys and clothes. On TikTok, videos tagged #EasterBasket show the headphones, trainers, face creams, keyrings, hoodies, teddies and concert tickets that parents bestow upon their children – in short, more gifts than most people receive at Christmas. I won’t deny that it is nice to give each other nice things, but I fear the trend puts pressure on parents, and normalises a level of consumption that would perhaps have been unthinkable even a decade ago.
Pop into any high street shop and you will see our current levels of capitalist egg-cess. John Lewis sells carrot-shaped string lights and bunny-shaped wreaths; for £10, you can get a snow globe featuring two bunnies in a carrot car. Who among us doesn’t need a “plush chicken ballpoint pen“ from Flying Tiger, or egg-shaped salt and pepper shakers from Next? And nothing says “he is risen” like the £52 “Easter Luxury Beauty Box” from Boots, featuring “revitalising supreme youth power crème”.
It’s not that I think we shouldn’t go all out at Easter. My mum has long hung little decorations on an “Easter tree” in our dining room – and she has a wooden bowl of hand-painted eggs passed down from her own mother. But I do worry that the £3 speckled egg-shaped side plates from Dunelm are not made to last in the same way. I fear that no one actually has the cupboard space for an £18 plant pot moulded like a bunny in a mint green suit and matching top hat. It’s hard not to think of this stuff as landfill fodder that will be used once and never again.
There’s an easy retort to my cynicism: let people enjoy things! We live in dark times and have to find happiness where we can! But who told you that joy could be bought? Who popularised the idea that shopping was self-care? Commenting on Eastermas, a senior seasonal manager at the supermarket Ocado told the Guardian: “After a long winter, people are looking for something to celebrate.” How very considerate, then, that Ocado wants to help us celebrate with £18 pull-apart Easter crackers.
I think we all need to scrutinise how happy spending actually makes us – and how long that feeling really lasts before we’re overwhelmed by the desire to declutter. If you Google “Easter toys”, the search engine reveals that other people have Googled: “What to get kids for Easter who have everything?” Might there be alternatives that make us happier than more stuff?
Because no offence to Bethany down the road, but I’m certain I savoured my one Easter egg more than she did her 11. If you’re looking for a bit of happiness in these difficult times, instead of buying something new may I suggest an egg-tapping battle? It’s a tradition in my Polish family – and I believe many others – to dye and paint eggs (real ones, not glass ones from Oliver Bonas) and then smash them into each other to see whose cracks first. We never stuffed baskets with headphones and hoodies but instead filled them with bread, eggs, sausage and salt that would be blessed by a priest in a ceremony known as “święconka”. Of course, for many Easter is now secular, but that doesn’t mean it can’t still be meaningful, marked by what we create rather than what we consume.
According to the market research company Kantar, 3.4 million Britons will spend £50 each on Easter gifts this year – and most of these people are parents. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that these high spenders are also more likely to consume magazines and video on demand than the average adult. Easter baskets stuffed with gifts seem to be an American tradition that’s starting to cross the Atlantic thanks to social media. And it’s not just Easter: we are living in an era of extreme basketification, with Halloween boo baskets, Christmas Eve boxes, 1 December boxes, Valentine’s baskets and burr baskets (for the winter) popularised on TikTok. Now, hardly a month can go by in which parents aren’t expected to fill a basket with tat for their kids.
Six years ago, my brother and I broke an Easter decoration that has been in our family for decades. That makes it sound like a terrible accident: in fact, we deliberately smashed the black-and-red painted egg because we shook it and heard an ominous rattle within. Our curiosity got the better of us and we cracked it open to discover a petrified purple-brown yolk that our dog inexplicably wanted to eat. I get that breaking an heirloom – even if it is a literal rotten egg – is wasteful, but I’d still venture that it’s far less wasteful than a metre-long artificial grass table runner.
It’s not that I’m recommending destroying decorations as a fun-filled, family Easter activity, but I think I do recommend filling your home with meaningful (if biohazardous) objects that are made to last. I recommend painting an egg or rolling it down a hill, and gluing fluffy yellow chicks to a bonne. And, of course, buying your child some chocolate eggs – just definitely less than 11.
Amelia Tait is a freelance features writer
