Inflatable Santa Claus is knocked down by wind on Avenida Paulista, in a scene that exposes the effects of extreme weather
The other day, I took advantage of the day’s wind to clear my thoughts by walking along Avenida Paulista. I later learned that the wind that left me distraught was a cyclone in the city, one of those that only those who live day to day in crazy weather experience. Although I am a photographer with no major professional aspirations, I took the opportunity to capture some images, a creative pleasure that I have always enjoyed. The fact is that, right in front of me, lay the good old man, the ultimate symbol of Christmas in any self-respecting shopping center, knocked over by the blow of a wind of almost biblical proportions. The inflatable Santa Claus, arms open in supplication, eyes turned to the blue sky, seemed to beg: “Forgive them, Lord, they don’t know what they’re doing.”
Acting as a noticeable, although invisible, vigilante, the wind showed itself tired of the annual performance. Knocked him out. Game Over. Perhaps it was a climate protest against consumerism disguised as Christmas spirit. Perhaps nature itself said: “No more Coca-Cola disguised as belief”.
Because, let’s face it, it was she, the one with the effervescent bubbles, who forever dressed the good old man in the corporate uniform: bright red, “fur” details (in the 1930s, things were ‘more rooty’, as they say) equipping him with high-top combat boots, a fuzzy hat and flannel sweaters, a complete outfit for the Arctic, destined to withstand our 35-degree Christmas summer.
A pop god was thus created, a figure that captivates skeptics and consumers, uniting everyone under the same soft drink. And now he was there, fallen like an advertising martyr, victim not of original sin, but of the wind that finally tired of the annual performance.
It’s hard not to remember, in this insane scenario, Saint Nicholas, a discreet bishop from the 4th century, who distributed coins and hope in silence, without needing a jingle, can or Wi-Fi. From Christian hero to advertising mascot, the good old man’s journey was a long slide. If Nicolau saw his inflatable reincarnation tied by ropes and overcome by gusts, he might have asked to leave for spiritual reasons.
Maybe it was just a strong wind. Perhaps the weather, which is more lost than a gift bought by the post office, decided to send a message in the middle of Avenida Paulista. A breath here, a puff there, and the good old plastic man flies to the ground as if he had been excommunicated by the The Child. In the end, I believe that no one really knows what happened. The climate doesn’t know, pedestrians don’t know, governments don’t know, perhaps the noble congressmen after the 52 vetoes that weaken environmental supervision, know. The soft drinks company seems to be concerned about balancing its image and the demand for ESG.
For now, all I can do is look at Santa Claus sprawled out, arms open in surrender, and think, as he might have thought, if he had a soul: “Forgive them, Lord, they don’t know what they’re doing.” But they keep doing it. Next year there will be more. And while the good old plastic man awaits repair or retirement due to unsustainability, we, pedestrians, continue walking along Paulista, avoiding not only the fragments of the symbol, but the question that the wind brought and that no one seems to hear.
*This text does not necessarily reflect the opinion of Jovem Pan.
