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Warnings about toy shortages and calls to shop early seem hard to square with the flood of catalogues already filling my mailbox. I have counted 34 so far, and the season is still young.
The choices are staggering. One catalogue features 14 artificial Christmas trees in different heights and styles. Many come pre-lit, while some collapse for easier storage. Another sells five outdoor trees in assorted sizes, complete with colors that change in time with music.
The most remarkable offering may be a motion-sensor toilet bowl light. It can cycle through eight colors or remain fixed on one, making the bathroom much easier to find during a middle-of-the-night stumble.
Yet none of these catalogues generates the excitement of the two that arrived each Christmas during my childhood: Sears and Spiegel’s.
The Sears catalogue, better known as the Wish Book, seemed to weigh 50 pounds. It carried nearly everything a child could want, along with a few items for the adults who would pay the bill. Because I could barely lift it, I would stretch out on the living room floor and circle enough toys to stock FAO Schwartz.
I knew only a fraction of those wishes would come true. Still, my childhood strategy was simple: Ask for the whole hog, and perhaps you will get a slice of bacon.
Spiegel’s was my favorite. It felt less overwhelming, was easier to navigate and let me quickly reach the pages featuring toys for children my age. Because it was lighter, I could carry it to my room and browse at leisure. It became my Christmas bible.
Orders did not appear on the doorstep as they do today. Merchandise was shipped to a local Sears or Spiegel’s catalogue store, where customers collected it after paying in full. They could also make smaller weekly, interest-free payments through a practice known as buying “on time.”
Modern catalogues are more polished and packed with products that would have been unimaginable in 1950s America. But for sheer anticipation and lasting memories, those two old-school books were hard to beat.