What’s the Right Amount of Creepy in Christmas?

Like many millennial parents, I hate the holiday scourge that is Elf on the Shelf. I hate the fact that because of some wholly invented tradition, I’m now pressured to take on a part-time seasonal gig as a department store window display designer staging daily vignettes in my own home. I refuse. But sometimes I'm tempted by one very specific factor: I actually like that he’s a little creepy. 

The Elf is clearly designed to evoke a 1950s Christmas aesthetic and pull that nostalgia lever, hard. But he lands somewhere in the uncanny valley of fake retro—and there’s just something about that grinning little face and that uncannily elongated body that delights me, against my will. Would that I could adopt him without all the baggage! It’s not just the Elf, though: I like my Christmas decor a little creepy, generally. For years, I’ve been hunting for the right unnerving moon ornament; I’m an absolute sucker for any weird Victoriana. My ideal decorative item makes me say "Oh, no," even as I wrap my greedy fingers around it. 

Maybe it’s my grandmother’s fault, for her decision to collect Byers’ Choice Carolers, foot-tall collectible holiday figures in historical costume, handmade from plaster, tissue paper, and clay sculpted to give them singing little mouths. I became fixated and, as an adult, I’m always on the lookout for them at antique malls, despite the fact that they genuinely unsettle my friends. (The consensus is that they look like they get up and wander around at night and I should lock my bedroom door.) Or perhaps it’s because as a child, I was given a copy of Maurice Sendak’s illustrated edition of the original E.T.A. Hoffman Nutcracker, and it warped me for life. 

But I’m not alone in my appreciation for a little note of darkness amid the seasonal cheer: in fact, it’s a thread that runs through quite a lot of classic Christmas. It’s A Wonderful Life is about a man who nearly dies by suicide. The Nutcracker could just as well be called The Nightmare, with freaky Godfather Drosselmeyer appearing like a bat atop the clock at the stroke of midnight. And the beloved Christmas Carol kicks off with ghosts rattling chains of eternal torment and culminates with Scrooge confronting his own unloved grave. All those candles and colored bulbs are an attempt to push back the encroaching darkness of winter, after all; a little creepiness hits like Maldon salt sprinkled on top of a chocolate chip cookie. 

There’s a correct amount, though. Too much tips too far into kitsch and breaks the tension, like a Halloween-themed Christmas village. (Or just becomes Saw-franchise awful, like the infamous 2018 White House decorations.) You just need a few things, amid the tartan bows and red velvet. Here’s my advice. 

 Anything Victorian Is Automatically Creepy  

On the one hand, a hint of the 19th century connotes tradition and luxury—it’s part of what gives "Ralph Lauren Christmas" the juice. On the other hand, centuries later, so much of the print culture of the era reads as just plain weird, especially the Christmas cards they loved so much. Consequently, any decor featuring Victorian illustrations automatically lends a pleasurable little note of unease to the festivities. Consider these paper garlands from Heirloom Art Co; Father Christmas is particularly good. But absolutely nothing tops these cats carrying Christmas puddings.  

You can take the vibe one step further with decoupage. This is where designer John Derian particularly shines. Perhaps your coffee table needs a tray featuring a snowman with a baby doll face, greeting a robin? A child shooting the entire contents of his stocking out of a cannon? Literally any of these Santa plates would work. But if you decide to sleep with this incredible cell phone tray—featuring a grinning moon and two owls next to a church steeple—at your bedside, I won’t be held responsible for your dreams. 

Scare Your Guests With Papier-Mâché  

Why is papier-mâché so unsettling? Is it intrinsic to the medium itself, or does it stem from the artistic choices that people always seem to make with the stuff? That’s a question for a professor of sociology. I’ll simply point you in the direction of these handmade Ino Schaller papier-mâché Santas.

Speaking of The Nutcracker… 

The Nutcracker has wormed its way so deeply into American popular culture and become such a childhood staple that it’s easy to forget just how deeply unsettling the ballet is. Again, I return to Godfather Drosselmeyer looming over the grandfather clock as it tolls the stroke of midnight, the Christmas tree growing massive and rats pouring out from the recesses of the Stahlbaum family home. It was Sendak material long before Sendak actually got his hands on it.

But frankly, that’s true of nutcrackers generally, which—despite all the decades of whimsical and saccharine versions—retain a sort of malign sketchiness. Practically any Christian Ulbricht creation stands a good chance of giving your nieces and nephews nightmares about rodents eating their marzipan (or simply about getting marzipan as a stocking stuffer), but the more traditional in design, the better. Bonus points for any resemblance to the stop-motion protagonists of the Rankin Bass Christmas classics—especially the Jack Frost one. 

Consider the Midcentury Creep Factor  

This list leans heavily on the 19th century, I know. But the Elf is a tribute to pure midcentury America, a creepy era in its own right, an alienating combination of material prosperity and nuclear dread. To tap that vibe, there’s two places to go: your local sprawling antique mall, or the Vermont Country Store. This trio of sweet-faced little angels holding candy canes is very cute… too cute, in fact. Suspiciously cute. They’d fit right in with my enemy the Elf. 

Glass Ornaments: Why?  

Glass ornaments are supposed to read as nostalgic. But something about the limits of the form means they always end up a little… off.

A reliable shortcut to creepiness: something with a face that shouldn’t really have a face. Think of the old Steeplechase Park mascot, from old-timey Coney Island—now translate that for the Christmas tree. Among the many lovely seasonal wares at British stationary shop Choosing Keeping is this absolutely horrifying [complimentary] pear with a face. It’s produced in a German village with a long tradition of glass-blowing, where "Their inspiration is often more folklorish winter legends and less obviously Christian symbols." Yeah, folklore about things that go bump in the winter night. (Be warned, though: nothing is as frightening as the current ever-shifting tariff rates. Order at your own caution.) 

Alternatively, skip the face and just go straight to the eye. Specifically, one of Cody Foster’s ocular ornaments—there’s more than one!  

For Extra Creepiness, Combine Any of the Above 

Victoriana is unsettling; so are faces that shouldn’t be there. And so I particularly love this garland of round-faced stars, advertised on Etsy for "Christmas Yule Birthdays Nursery."

But Nothing Matches the Carolers 

I would be remiss if I did not include on this list the Christmas decor for which I have been repeatedly roasted by my friends, the Byers Choice Carolers. They are lovingly and carefully made, often clad in little velvet dresses. Their old-timey styling makes them look a little ghostly, by default, like they should be in line to take a turn haunting Scrooge. They are designed to look like they are singing; unfortunately, it always looks a little like they’re screaming. Truthfully, the best way to acquire one of these is to stumble across them at a sprawling antique mall somewhere in Pennsylvania, or scrolling Facebook Marketplace. But for a mere $93, you could be the proud owner of a nightgown-wearing Mrs. Claus, knitting a Christmas stocking, or an enterprising woman selling sweets on the streets of Georgian London. Something to consider.

Related Reading:

Millennials Are Coming for the Tiny Collectible Christmas Village

Vintage Christmas Collectors Have Inspired a Revival

How ’40s and ’50s Holiday Films Helped Define the Quintessential Christmas "Look"