What’s the autumnal, Halloween version of Scrooge? Aut-ooge? Hallows-ooge? Well call me what you like, but I’m taking a stand. You do not, and I really mean this with love, absolutely do not need a hand soap dispenser in the shape of a ghost.
Popping into the supermarket for some bread, milk, and admittedly a meander past the gardening section, I noticed that the Halloween decorations were out and ready to go. Back to school is almost done (apologies to those of you settling Reception children for the next three weeks doing an hour a day), it’s getting a little darker (let’s say cosier!) and I’m sorry but it’s way too early for Christmas selection boxes – so fine, Halloween can be our next little dopamine distraction. I’m not here to moan about the timeline of Halloween decorations shoving BBQ goods off the shelves.
But having a little look at what Halloween decorations were on offer that the kids might enjoy (I’m not a complete monster) I was taken aback by the sheer number and range of Halloween goods. And look, maybe it says something about me, but I can’t stop thinking about the ghost hand soap dispenser I saw.
In what WORLD do you need a ghost hand soap dispenser? I promise you, I am queen of silly little treats, I get it. But a HAND SOAP DISPENSER? Do we need seasonal HAND SOAP DISPENSERS now? The things you hide in your toilet and put soap in? I don’t understand.
The decorations, ok, it’s not necessarily for me, but you do what makes you happy. Halloween decorations are a thing. Putting the seasonal decorations up for a month, sure! Bit less wasteful than for a day. The blankets and cushions that have crept in the last year or so were taking it a bit too far for me. Mostly because I live in London and it just makes me feel itchy thinking about what kind of storage space you need to have blankets and cushions that come out at different times of the year. Or are you all cosying into your pumpkin-spiced-ghost blankets in February, perfectly happy? Please let me know! I’ll admit, I’ve succumbed to Christmas pyjamas (see, I’m not immune to fun), but honestly, my kids then end up wearing them the rest of the year. And it makes me a bit twitchy seeing sprout-covered pyjama legs in May, but I can’t bear the idea of wearing pyjamas for only three weeks a year.
So, to the soap dispenser then. The hand soap dispenser is in itself something that I feel is already a bit unnecessary. I can’t stand all the dispensing videos around, people making their fridges and utility rooms (you have a utility room, first? And then, isn’t the idea of a utility room for it to be utility? A place where you put the things you don’t want to see out all the time?) pretty by pouring things from one box into another nicer box. It’s not just the overconsumption and consumerism that makes me feel a bit funny. But I don’t see any men making these videos. It’s just an extra domestic load or expectation placed at the feet of women, it’s trad-wivery, it’s the attempted prettification of the sweat and discomfort and load of chores. So, look, when it comes to a hand soap dispenser that is now just for a month, that you then additionally have to swap in and out… It’s not just a Halloween soap dispenser. It’s just too much. It’s too far.
There are a million social media content creators and celebrities now, making thousands from this commodification of seasonality. It’s not just Halloween. Anything can be “scaped”, from tablescaping to fridge-scaping. There’s spring-themed interiors. Summer bits. And, of course, Christmas everything you can think of. And while it’s mindless to watch these videos and admittedly often enjoyable, it’s never just that, is it? It makes people feel less than and needy for something. And I say this as someone who on that shop bought themself a little plant as a treat. But, you have to draw the line somewhere. And for me, the line is hand soap dispensers in the shape of ghosts. Not everything needs to be “scaped” – definitely not your downstairs loo.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the internet, just one flick away from someone you follow laying down spider-web-covered bed linen (!!) the other half of your feed is likely to be talking about overconsumption and living underconsumption-core lives. Which is great, again, if it makes them happy – and surely “a good thing” in terms of the environment, but quickly itself has crept into a standard and snobbery against others who are just trying to live their lives .
As ever, surely most of us – when we put our phones down, realise we aren’t “content creators” (shudder) and go about our normal lives – just live in the middling, normal grey in between internet fads and extremes? Sometimes drawing a line, sometimes succumbing to a little dopamine-laden treat to pop around our house or into our stomachs. I think the problem with the ghost-shaped hand soap dispenser, for me, was that the aggressively “perfect” homescaping of the internet creeping into the every day life, into the supermarket aisles we walk every day (if your kids are also gannets) for essentials, and what that means for how much we’ve jumped the shark.
Look, if you’ve got the money, the space and the time, to swap out your kitchenwares for a pumpkin teapot, your bedsheets for ones covered in ghouls and cushions for ones in the shapes of spiders, then go for your lives I suppose. But you have to promise it is making you happy, rather than you felt pressurised to live up to some mad standard of interior life that is predicated on something created by someone as part of their job (which is literally persuading people into thinking they need that stuff and that it will make them happy). Just, maybe if I’m coming around, put the normal hand soap out.
Rhiannon Evans is the interim content director at PS UK. Rhiannon has been a journalist for 17 years, starting at local newspapers before moving to work for Heat magazine and Grazia. As a senior editor at Grazia, she helped launch parenting brand The Juggle, worked across brand partnerships, and launched the “Grazia Life Advice” podcast. An NCE-qualified journalist (yes, with a 120-words-per-minute shorthand), she has written for The Guardian, Vice and Refinery29.
