On any December morning in the riotously decorated lobby of the Hotel Edison on West 47th Street, the groups of tourists visiting New York tend to include a fair number who blend with the crimson carpet.
Counting a man with white hair wearing Christmas suspenders over a white turtleneck, a woman in a vest with appliquéd trees, two with snowflake sweaters and one wearing a bright red jumper with a grid of boxes peeking open — an Advent calendar in intarsia — one could hypothesize that holiday sweaters are making a comeback.
On the other hand, they could be having a very horrible year, reduced to a repetitive punch line on “Ugly Betty.” At Restoration Hardware in the Flatiron District, the holiday sweater is singled out in a window poster as a poor choice for gifting, the recommended alternative being a flashlight. And Staples, in a holiday commercial, includes a stereotypical “sweater lady” who speaks with a Wisconsin accent.
In Detroit on Friday night, a radio station was the host of a pub crawl for listeners, who were invited to turn up at various clubs wearing holiday sweaters as part of a contest to determine which was ugliest. And around the country, ugly sweater parties have become a popular phenomenon among college students who embrace their value as kitsch.
“I did a search on MySpace and Facebook, and I saw over 200 postings around the country for the month of December for ugly sweater parties,” said Heather Mueller, a senior at the University of Minnesota who wrote about the parties in The Minnesota Daily this month. At one she attended in the Dinkytown neighborhood of Minneapolis, guests were asked to wear either eyesore sweaters or a turtleneck with a vintage blazer.
“Originally, they called it a Robert Goulet party,” Ms. Mueller said. “All of the guests were extremely enthusiastic. Everyone was trying to one up each other. Maybe that’s because they got to make fun of their friends and get drunk at the same time.” (The Jell-O shots were red and green, she noted.)
Yet the fate of the holiday sweater would seem to hang by a thread. At Liz Claiborne, which is attempting to renovate its frumpy image, the company deliberated this fall whether to continue such styles in its signature line.
“We had a lively debate about whether we should continue making them or not,” said Pamela Thomas-Graham, a group president. “But our ladies love them, so of course we will.” She pointed to a handsome compromise in boiled wool, a pale gray sweater trimmed with silver paillettes. But it didn’t feel like Christmas.
Whether worn with sincerity, or merely without a disclaimer of intentional irony, holiday sweaters may never be able to fully escape the label of tacky, even among their own. Last Monday at the Edison, Suzanne Coale of Columbia, S.C., was wearing a Talbots cardigan with a poinsettia pattern. She explained, patiently, that such sweaters are considered quite dashing in some parts of the country.