Pikkujoulu is here again, bringing glitter, gigs, a lot of empties, and uncomfortably long lines for a taxi

26 days to Christmas, and the party season is in full swing

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By Merituuli Ahola
     
      Sunday marked the first Sunday in Advent, known hereabouts as pikkujoulu (literally "Little Christmas", see earlier background article for details). It also signalled the beginning of the real high-season for pikkujoulu parties, the sensible Finnish equivalent of the office Christmas bash: no Finn in their right mind would do it right before the big festival itself, and thereby risk spending Christmas with a foul hangover.
      It is the time of year when those in the lines outside nightclubs can be seen sporting gaudy flashing heart-shaped brooches and the back seats of taxis are filled with customers happily paying their fares with a company credit card.
     
The Little Christmas crowd are familiar to the likes of Markku Toikka, a stand-up comic whose engagements book is filled at this time of year with company Xmas parties, and equally to Martti Harjumaaskola, who is out at nights collecting champagne bottles and other empties from the Helsinki pavements.
     
"The boom period for hairdressing salons begins at Little Christmas and runs through until the New Year", says a delighted Päivi Kauppi at the Flow salon in Helsinki’s Kasarmikatu.
      There is no shortage of customers. In the course of Friday, the salon has done fifteen Little Christmas hairdos.
      In the chair right now is Maria Kontio. Päivi Kauppi would dearly like to spray a bit of glitter on Kontio’s blow-dried hair. Kontio is rather leery of the aerosol spray.
      "No, it’ll look really great, festive", urges Kauppi, and she gets permission to have a quick spray. Glitter is kept close to hand at this time of year, and before long Kontio’s page-boy hairdo has a sparkle to it, as though it has been dipped in stardust.
     
"Beads, sequins, rhinestones, and other sparkly jewels and decorations are the thing for this year. If someone goes out to a party without something that glitters and catches the light, well, really they ought to have stayed at home", laughs Terhi Okkonen from the Stockmann department store.
      Okkonen stresses that the consumption object for pikkujoulu parties is all about me, me, me. "Christmas sees a quite different kind of spending".
      These observations get confirmation from a glance over the jewellery counters on the store’s ground floor.
      Groups of women pore over the glass display cases, debating the pros and cons of various accessories and whether or not to go for a beaded and sequined evening bag.
      Sales assistant Lea Kähkönen looks for a suitable ring to go with the ear-rings picked out by Annika Tanttinen.
      "Because you are planning to wear a long-sleeved outfit, it might be better to go with a striking ring rather than a bracelet", suggests Kähkönen, but Tanttinen cannot find a suitably-sized stone to her taste.
      Fortunately her problem is not yet an acute one: she still has two weeks until the office party.
     
Some distance away, outside the Finnair Stadium, actor Markku Toikka, who is much in demand for gigs as a stand-up comedian at this time of year, is trying desperately to back his car out of a snowdrift.
      The snow along Urheilukatu next to the football stadium is hard and drifted by 9 p.m. in the evening.
      Toikka has just completed a half-hour set at the pre-Christmas party thrown by a large company in the Finnair Stadium restaurant. His next clients are already ringing to ask where he is.
      "I’ll be there in ten minutes", the actor promises. He learns that there is nowhere to park out front.
      "Alright then, I guess I’ll just have to get a ticket in that case."
      For actors who do solo gigs like these, pikkujoulu-time is a period of rich pickings. "More than one-third of the entire year’s gigs come in the space of three or four weeks", reports Toikka. On Friday alone, he had three separate engagements.
     
"You’ll have to be patient and hang on for a few minutes", says doorman Kari Lindstöm, attempting to placate a group of eager women in the line outside Teatteri, a downtown restaurant and bar.
      "Get a move on out of there", giggles a woman with glitter on her eyelids, as she stands poised by the door. A man speaking English is attempting to push his way out of the restaurant, as the group of six women try to hustle themselves inside.
     
Lindström glances down to check whether the group’s names are to be found from the night’s VIP list. It has around 200 names on it.
      At the same moment, a man pokes his head through the door and scans the street. He then waves urgently at his wife outside, signalling her to march herself up to the front of the line.
      "I’m sorry, Sir, but unfortunately that just isn’t going to work", says Lindström calmly.
      How does he manage to keep things from boiling over?
      "It’s not always too easy", laughs the doorman, and politely but firmly he turns a young man away from the door.
      "He was swaying in the breeze a bit too much", he observes.
     
Over at the fashionable watering-hole and nightclub Studio 51, in the space of a few minutes the barman Jaakko Sippola has dispensed three glasses of champagne, six tall beers, a campari and soda, two shots of tequila, three doses of that peculiar Finnish speciality of Koskenkorva vodka and salmiac [or salmiak] licorice known as salmiakkikossu, and a long gin drink.
      In the background, Madonna is belting out a song about ladies with an attitude and encouraging everyone to strike a pose. Which they are naturally doing anyway.
      In the course of his hectic evening, Sippola gets two fifteen-minute breaks. At this time of year, his services are vital.
     
Out on the cold streets, Martti Harjumaaskola’s job is done by around 1 a.m., while Sippola will be shaking cocktails and serving drinks through until four. Harjumaaskola has been out collecting returnable empties and placing them in his supermarket trolley.
      This time of year, together with New Year’s and Mayday, is the busiest season for collecting return-deposit bottles. "People are having fun, and there are a lot of champagne and sparkling wine bottles in the mix", Harjumaaskola notes.
      On his way home, he intends to check out the suroundings of another bar, Manala, located behind Parliament. "But the rewards there are not as good as those you can get from the Kaivopiha precinct [almost in the dead centre of the downtown area, between Mannerheimintie and the railway station], which is a real goldmine for bottles."
     
As the clock ticks past 1 on Saturday morning, things are still quiet on the taxi front. Kimmo Valkonen and Kari Paasikoski have time to tip back a coffee at the all-night Esso station on Mannerheimintie.
      "This is a kind of in-between time. The first big rush comes around seven to eight in the evening, when everybody wants to be ferried to the party locations. Around ten in the evening the theatres turn out, along with the Opera House and the ferries from Tallinn. Then it all goes quiet for a while", says Valkonen.
      As the wee small hours wear on, things begin to pick up once more.
      "It starts in the suburbs, when the bars turn people out at around two. Some of the fares want to go into town to continue their night out, others need a ride home. At fourish, the entire world hits the streets, and everyone and his mother wants a taxi at the same time", the cab-driver says wearily.
      "Yes, and tonight you’ll be seeing those people who are taking rides out as far as Riihimäki and Hyvinkää. The companies pick up the tab and everyone is loaded and a party animal", laughs Paasikoski.
     
Helsingin Sanomat / First published in print 28.11.2004


Previously in HS International Edition:
  Little Christmas party-goers throng Helsinki city centre (5.12.2003)
  BACKGROUND: What exactly IS "Little Christmas"? (26.11.2002)

MERITUULI AHOLA / Helsingin Sanomat
merituuli.ahola@hs.fi