For many years, Christmas was my perfect nemesis: impossible to ignore and difficult to conquer. Anyone who has ever entered a perfumery two weeks before the holidays knows what I'm talking about. But I wasn't a customer; I was more like a tamer trying to control the chaos reliably caused by sick temporary staff, sudden snowfall, stressed customers, and delayed deliveries. I always experienced the weeks before Christmas as a strange mix of euphoria and coma. There was no time or space for festive feelings – and I barely managed to pick up the pre-roasted Christmas goose from the neighboring restaurant on the 24th.

Today, however, I am as helplessly exposed to the annual end-of-year bombardment of Christmas kitsch and Black Friday sales as anyone else. And that's despite knowing the mechanisms. For example, I first started thinking about Christmas menus, fairy lights, and appropriate table decorations in mid-September. Almost in parallel with my florist, who not only sent me a voucher but also reminded me to pre-order my Advent wreath with a seamless transition from All Saints' Day grave decorations to Advent arrangements. It's probably due to the bad weather and the quiet fear of missing out on a limited edition that the first Christmas candle stood on our table a little later. My seasonal obsessions were finally completed by a veritable sugar rush at the beginning of October: after weeks of trying to navigate around the wall of speculoos, gingerbread, dominoes, and marzipan potatoes at the checkout, a Dresden stollen suddenly laughed at me brazenly, screaming "Take me" - and landed in the shopping cart along with vanilla crescent cookies and marzipan. Even though chestnuts lay in the leaves outside and no pine cones were in sight.

Welcome to Christmas Creep. This is what you call the quiet but extremely effective pushing forward of the Christmas season – with Christmas sales starting earlier and earlier. So you're absolutely right if you feel that dominoes and marzipan stollen appear on the shelves a little earlier each year – sometimes as early as the end of August – at a time when most people would rather eat ice cream in a t-shirt. Christmas Creep as a phenomenon is much more than just an early signal for the start of the season: it shows how precisely marketing, psychology, and expectations interlock – and how effortlessly our internal emotional clock can be shifted.

Christmas is the most profitable event of the year for retailers. Economically speaking, it would therefore be negligent to limit this peak sales period to just four Advent weeks. So for years, the season has been "tweaked," and instead of one month, we now experience an entire Christmas quarter. The principle of season extension sounds more harmless than it is. By making products available earlier, our consumption cycle starts earlier, spreads wider – and above all, brings one thing: increased sales through manipulation that is hard to resist. For example, early placement of Christmas goods and sweets specifically shortens the emotional journey from everyday shopping to Christmas consumption alarm: a hint of cinnamon here, a vanilla note there, plus the matte gold of elegant packaging – and our limbic system switches to "holiday mode." Added to this is the fear of missing out or not getting something in time. And suddenly, the Christmas candle is on the table in September rather than not at all. In other words: the earlier limited editions appear, the stronger they trigger the mechanism that accelerates our purchasing decisions: "If I don't grab it now, it's gone."

The beauty industry, in particular, has perfected the Christmas Creep: Christmas candles, holiday collections, and limited gift sets appear at the end of September today. This early availability has only one purpose: it creates a mix of desirability, exclusivity, and latent time pressure - a silently staged form of "now or never." It is accompanied by festive fashionable party and holiday looks on all channels, as well as by Christmas lights and fir trees - which, by the way, shine brighter and earlier each year, not only in pedestrian zones but also in private gardens and living rooms.

Of course, one can smile at all this and simply not participate. On the other hand, it is symptomatic of a time when seasons, holidays, and periods have long been economic rhythms that replace culture with consumption. But according to the motto "change what you can change, and live with the rest," you can also repurpose the whole thing for yourself. Why wait until Christmas candles finally come "officially" onto the market and economic interests decide what we should be happy about? A candle is a candle is a candle. It burns just as beautifully at the end of August as on Christmas Eve, and dominoes are ultimately just marzipan, chocolate, and cake, which always taste good. If it weren't for the sugar rush and increased calorie intake. But even there, there is a remedy: even though gourmand fragrances naturally have their big moment in winter, one should wear them when one feels like it – whether in July or December. Especially since, among gourmands, there are not only the dark, rich examples but also cheerful variations. You can find the former on the bottom shelf, by the way, and the latter on the top.

Of course, you can scoff at all this and simply not participate. On the other hand, it is symptomatic of a time when seasons, holidays, and periods have long been economic rhythms that replace culture with consumption. But according to the motto "Change what you can change, and live with the rest," you can also repurpose the whole thing for yourself. Why wait until Christmas candles finally come "officially" onto the market and economic interests decide what we should be happy about? A candle is a candle is a candle. It burns just as beautifully at the end of August as on Christmas Eve, and dominoes are ultimately just marzipan, chocolate, and cake – always delicious, just with a variable calorie balance.

And even for that, there is a charming, olfactory remedy: gourmand fragrances. Even though they seasonally have their big moment in winter, you should wear them when you feel like it – whether in July or December. Especially since within gourmands, there are not only the deep, opulent, dark representatives but also bright, airy, and cheerful variations. You can find the former on the bottom shelf, by the way, and the latter on the top.

Christmas Creep may be a marketing phenomenon, but I've been enjoying my table wreath of fir greenery and juniper berries for two weeks now. And if it were up to me, it would still be there in April. Christmas or not.