Like many people, maybe you, I sometimes long for a New York I have never lived in, one that is more tactile, with phonebooks. In my dream, I wear sumptuous cashmere sweaters to work at the Shop Around the Corner, and I decorate my desk with bouquets of fresh pencils. And in the evening dusk, I write a stack of letters with the stationery I've collected, just for a night like this. I am Meg Ryan, and I have such nice hair, and my life is really so peaceful and beautiful. I have never seen someone pee from the train platform onto the tracks.
At Christmastime, my fantasy is rendered, miraculously, useless. For every street with bright lights blaring through the windows of a fast fashion outlet in Soho, for every street that almost makes us believe that New York is only commercialized, cultureless crap, there is another street. There, everything is soft and warm, spiced lattes spilling out of local shops, blown ornaments winking at passerby.
Late fall reminds me that the life — the New York! the romance! the intention! — we all crave is possible because it still exists. We can, right now, write our very own holiday cards. We can experience one of the closest things to magic — sending a letter from one coast to the other for less than a dollar, no pony required. We can give someone the feeling of, "Oh my god, I've got mail."
Step 1: Set the intention
If you're reading this, you may be at least a little bit convinced that sending a holiday card is a worthwhile and holy pursuit, a meditation on the analog. To you, it may even feel pressing to connect to the physical world this year because, perhaps, you also saw these anti-humanity advertisements in San Francisco:
The inhumane has become such a part of the fabric of our everyday lives that we often accept it, even at our mailboxes. Americans receive all sorts of mail, but little of it is personal — bills, credit card invitations, coupons for DoorDash and Crate & Barrel and HelloFresh. The handwritten note has been replaced by populating our mailboxes ourselves, with stuff we hope may scratch that tactile itch. And while I'm not immune to making an online purchase — I recently bought deadstock frames from eBay — there are few things better than an unexpected letter from a loved one. Something tangible, human, maybe ink-smudged.
A recent episode of This American Life featured a postal worker who knows her community deeply by the mail they receive, even when most of it is junk. There's a lot of beauty in the story; the postal worker does so much behind-the-scenes work to make our experience at the mailbox better, forwarding mail to a guy who forgot to change his address when he and his partner moved, tossing out bulk mail addressed to a child who died, to spare his mother. The part that I'm interested in, though, is how little real mail the postal worker sees. Her work, so vital to the functioning of a sprawling country, has become yet another slog through advertisements for stuff we don't need and envelopes from the bank. And yet! Intimately involved in the process of getting your mail to you, intimately a part of this miracle, intimately a part of your life in ways you don't even know, the postal worker does not write letters herself.
I don't blame her. I've been delinquent more than once on writing back to someone I care about, and on a November trip to the West Coast, I forgot to grab postcards for family and friends. I like to think, though, that Christmas is the time when we are absolved of these sins. You have a purpose for writing, and that purpose will land you in the good graces of any person who's immediately moved unopened junk mail from their mailbox to the recycling bin.
By participating in the sending of letters, you can create the reality you and your beloved long for. You can inject a little bit more meaning and merriment into your corner of the world.
Step 2: Gather your cards (essential)
Too often, we've become convinced that sending a holiday card has to be some big to-do. It should feel gorgeous — decadent, even! But it does not necessitate coordinating your entire family to stand on the beach in matching white shirts and jeans, little piggy toes in the sand. Step away from the Doodle poll. There is an easier and more glamorous way forward.
At the end of the day, you have three options: (1) purchase a beautiful set of cards from your local letterpress, a thrift store, Etsy or eBay; (2) order a card with your photo on it; or (3) DIY it.
If you are local to New York City and looking for a set of locally printed cards, I'd recommend using this as an opportunity to walk through the brisk air to the F train and then sitting on that train until you reach W 4 St and then heading into Greenwich Letterpress, where you will, no doubt, be delighted. Their store is colorful and kitschy, full to the brim with sweet cards and nostalgic stickers.
If you aren't in New York, I recommend Oblation Papers & Press in Portland, OR, which is where I purchased my Christmas cards last year. Unfortunately, I cannot give you recommendations for every city, because I take recommendations very, very seriously and I have only lived in three states. But know this: There is likely a little shop near you, maybe an independent bookstore you haven't yet visited, where they are waiting for you with open arms, ready to fill your shopping basket with treasures.
Etsy and eBay are also stuffed to the metaphorical ceiling with gently used and mint cards alike. I am especially fond of these just-barely-signed cards featuring puppies, and I think it's quite lovely that someone else used them. It's double the cheer, when you think about it. Their love, plus yours. I'm a sap.
If you're looking to splurge, I might suggest these 1970s sleeping mouse cards via Etsy. (I am, I fear, a huge proponent of Christmas mice, particularly when illustrated like this. His pinchable cheeks! The colors in that tiny quilt! I am swooning, I am crying.)
And, of course, if you have a lot of mommies and grandmas (...?), you can send out these really sweet, really odd little XO cards.
Those born in the '80s and '90s may have received (or even sent) family Christmas cards with everyone's smiling faces and updates about the last year. Though my family didn't partake in this tradition, dare I say that I was jealous of families who did. I wanted to be perceived, and I wanted to be perceived as Good and Accomplished.
Last Christmas, freshly married, my husband and I printed out photos of ourselves in our wedding finest and stuck them in our holiday cards. I recommend this to everyone — you can easily print photos for under a quarter a piece at your local film developer, or a drugstore in a pinch. I am a big fan of using the photos you have on hand instead of madly arranging to take professional ones*, whether from a big event (wedding! new baby! your 26th birthday!), or a smaller, still meaningful one (reading on vacation! sitting on the ferry! being sweaty after camping!).
The holidays are cheesy, and that's part of their appeal. Lean into it. If you want to send a printed holiday card with your smiling face on the front of it, do it! Artifact Uprising has several chic options, like this one featuring a single, uninterrupted square photo, and this one with foiled lettering.
I am considering using Artifact Uprising myself this year, at my husband's urging for something tacky (positive). We don't have many recent photos together, but we do have many of us doing the exact same thing: one person using the 35mm camera to capture their sweetheart, then the other. I'd tell you what we're doing in the pair of photos we've decided on, but I'm scared my mom will read this, which would ruin the surprise. Let me just say… we're standing in front of a big roadside attraction before our car broke down in Fargo, ND, stranding us in the middle of the country for several days. I don't know if I've ever looked or felt more disgusting than I do in my side of the photo, but baby, that's part of the charm. These images capture a very real part of our lives this past year — moving across the country — and we want to share that journey with those we care about.
I'd be remiss if I didn't mention the DIY route, but in our TikTok-addled inspiration era, I'd like to encourage you to simply use what you have or what you love. Pull out scrapbooking supplies. Make a collage. Or send minimalist letters, like my grandmother did: Lined sheets of paper, her everyday pen, plain white envelopes. Her handwriting and wisdom was the gift. I never needed anything fancier.
*Not to be a total bitch or anything, but you are not a celebrity trying to win back the public's favor. You do not need to schedule a photoshoot so that you can send a highly designed card to your friend in Queens. She will love you anyway. You can stop repenting, I promise. This is supposed to be fun!!!!!!!!
Step 3: Consider accoutrements (optional)
There is a whole world of letter-writing ephemera to explore, and while it's not necessary for this project, isn't it fun?
First, consider decorating your envelope: The United States Postal Service offers a range of festive stamps. Unfortunately many on this year's roster are ugly, the ugliest of which is a book of Coraline-adjacent elves. With the fear of god instilled in me by Santa's helpers, I am personally moved to pursue unused deadstock stamps on eBay, where you'll find Charlie Brown stamps from 2015, gingerbread house stamps from 2013, and a whole slew of nice, normal, good stamps that do not feature freak button eyes.
Inside your card, you may decide to write with a luxurious pen. I'm partial to Little Otsu's selection, now available exclusively online. But don't take my word for it — test out dozens of pens with a friend at your local pen store. Buy a glittery one on a whim from Artists & Craftsman. Be frivolous yet deeply practical. When's the last time you wrote something down that wasn't a grocery list? This is your opportunity to feel in touch with your handwriting again, knowing that it will always beat out even the most sophisticated of fonts. Because it's yours.
Oh oh oh, and, not to change the subject, but stickers. Drop $20 on Lisa Frank Christmas cats or less than $6 on these weird, cold birds. And if you feel particularly connected to the character Miss Honey, I feel you may enjoy these sensitive-looking holiday bears.
Step 4: Set the mood and write
I like to write with the hum of the radio on in the background, a record playing softly as my partner tidies up the apartment and also, very specifically, to Haim swimming out of our speakers. For whatever reason, I have Pavloved myself into thinking that Haim is perfect for writing, for kissing, and for dancing. And I am also, I hate to say it, correct. So, put on a Haim album or your favorite wintery movie, light a candle or a stick of palo santo, and write to tell people you love them. It's Christmas, after all!
As you check your list once then twice, ponder sending a card to your dry cleaner, your wedding dress alterationist, and your mom's best friend. The effort will go further than you think. We're all hungry for connection, after all. We're all hungry for real mail.
Step 5: Ship them off
There's something quite gratifying about holding a stack of letters in your hands and walking it to your local drop-off box. It's very elegant, very Kathleen Kelly. You are holding your effort, you are holding your love. And without sounding too 2016, I hope (kill me if I am), you are holding your resistance. By participating in this small, frothy little life, you have placed value back on our relationships to one another. You have become a part of a miraculous feat, bridging connections to those you care about, to the shopkeepers who source such wondrous stickers and stamps, to the postal workers who will carry these messages to their destinations. You have decided that the postal service shall live another day.
I believe that we really can be rooted again, without turning back time. In so many ways, we already are.
