SantaCon Was Never Meant To Be a Bro-Fest: The Shocking Truth Behind the Infamous Holiday Party.
For years, SantaCon has become synonymous with debauchery and chaos. Thousands of people descend upon Manhattan each December, clad in red hats and costumes, ready to party and push the limits of good behavior. However, the origins of this infamous holiday bash are far removed from its current state.
The first SantaCon was born out of a humble prank by Rob Schmitt, an artist with the Cacophony Society, an alternative group known for their "meaningless madness." The initial idea was met with skepticism, but Schmitt's vision of a group of Santas gathering in San Francisco's North Beach neighborhood came to life. It was a low-key affair, with 38 Santas gathered at Fisherman's Wharf.
Fast-forward to the 1990s, and SantaCon began to spread across the country. Organizers like Chris Hackett brought the concept to New York City, where it quickly gained traction. The event evolved into a massive bar crawl, with thousands of participants reveling in the anonymity of their red hats and costumes.
However, as the years went by, something strange happened. The Santas' rebellion lost its spark, replaced by petty squabbles, excessive drinking, and general debauchery. It's clear that SantaCon's wild and free-spirited nature has given way to a more commercialized, party-hard approach.
The documentary "SantaCon" sheds light on the early days of this phenomenon, revealing that it was never meant to be an all-out brawlin' affair. Instead, its original intent was about disrupting society with a joyful, playful energy that brought people together in unexpected ways. As Seth Porges notes, "It created this moment of disruption, where people just stopped and went, 'Wait, what is this?'".
Rob Schmitt's vision for SantaCon was always about creating an experience – not just a wild party. He envisioned Santas taking on the most absurd and unexpected places, like running down a beach or invading a department store. Chris Hackett, who helped popularize the event in New York City, notes that the early days were more surreal than anything else.
However, one can't help but wonder if SantaCon's popularity stems from a deeper need for escapism – a way to temporarily abandon our mundane lives and indulge in reckless abandon. John Law believes that events like these serve as "safety release valves" for societies, allowing us to let off steam before we're coaxed back into the straightjacket of reality.
As SantaCon continues to grow and evolve, it's clear that its true purpose has been lost amidst commercialization and chaos. While some see this holiday party as a liberating force, others view it as a reflection of our culture's darker impulses – our willingness to throw caution to the wind and let our inner demons run wild.
Perhaps it's time for SantaCon to rediscover its roots – to reclaim the spirit of playful disruption that once defined it. Until then, we'll have to content ourselves with watching from afar, shaking our heads at the debauchery on display while wondering what could've been if only this holiday party had stayed true to its original intent: a joyful exercise in absurdity, creativity, and communal freedom.
For years, SantaCon has become synonymous with debauchery and chaos. Thousands of people descend upon Manhattan each December, clad in red hats and costumes, ready to party and push the limits of good behavior. However, the origins of this infamous holiday bash are far removed from its current state.
The first SantaCon was born out of a humble prank by Rob Schmitt, an artist with the Cacophony Society, an alternative group known for their "meaningless madness." The initial idea was met with skepticism, but Schmitt's vision of a group of Santas gathering in San Francisco's North Beach neighborhood came to life. It was a low-key affair, with 38 Santas gathered at Fisherman's Wharf.
Fast-forward to the 1990s, and SantaCon began to spread across the country. Organizers like Chris Hackett brought the concept to New York City, where it quickly gained traction. The event evolved into a massive bar crawl, with thousands of participants reveling in the anonymity of their red hats and costumes.
However, as the years went by, something strange happened. The Santas' rebellion lost its spark, replaced by petty squabbles, excessive drinking, and general debauchery. It's clear that SantaCon's wild and free-spirited nature has given way to a more commercialized, party-hard approach.
The documentary "SantaCon" sheds light on the early days of this phenomenon, revealing that it was never meant to be an all-out brawlin' affair. Instead, its original intent was about disrupting society with a joyful, playful energy that brought people together in unexpected ways. As Seth Porges notes, "It created this moment of disruption, where people just stopped and went, 'Wait, what is this?'".
Rob Schmitt's vision for SantaCon was always about creating an experience – not just a wild party. He envisioned Santas taking on the most absurd and unexpected places, like running down a beach or invading a department store. Chris Hackett, who helped popularize the event in New York City, notes that the early days were more surreal than anything else.
However, one can't help but wonder if SantaCon's popularity stems from a deeper need for escapism – a way to temporarily abandon our mundane lives and indulge in reckless abandon. John Law believes that events like these serve as "safety release valves" for societies, allowing us to let off steam before we're coaxed back into the straightjacket of reality.
As SantaCon continues to grow and evolve, it's clear that its true purpose has been lost amidst commercialization and chaos. While some see this holiday party as a liberating force, others view it as a reflection of our culture's darker impulses – our willingness to throw caution to the wind and let our inner demons run wild.
Perhaps it's time for SantaCon to rediscover its roots – to reclaim the spirit of playful disruption that once defined it. Until then, we'll have to content ourselves with watching from afar, shaking our heads at the debauchery on display while wondering what could've been if only this holiday party had stayed true to its original intent: a joyful exercise in absurdity, creativity, and communal freedom.