Stores seem to expect us to live in the next season all the time. Have you noticed how they steal the present from us?
At the start of August, I went into a store to buy my daughter a new swimsuit—she had been sliding so much that her old one was completely worn out. Outside, it was 30°C (86°F), and we were soaking up the last moments of summer—but inside, it was a whole different world.
Coats were already hanging on the shelves, and the window display featured chestnuts and orange leaves announcing autumn. I paused for a moment: why are they trying to get us ready for gray, chilly days when summer is still in full swing?
In recent years, I’ve grown skeptical of calendar seasons. I try to tune into nature’s rhythm instead—it just makes more sense, even though our weather is clearly shifting.
Think about it: January 1st hardly offers anything to truly support your lifestyle changes. It’s cold, days are short, fresh seasonal food is scarce in stores, and our bodies crave rest. Yet everywhere you turn, the message is that now is the perfect time for a fresh start…
This year, I noticed the weather only turned cooler right after the autumn equinox, almost as if nature was signaling it was time to switch gears. Yet on September 1st, my daughter still went to school in real heat.
I feel this strange duality is now present all year round. We barely reach the middle of one season before retail and everything around us is already prepping us for the next.
There’s a Name for It
This is a real phenomenon known as “holiday creep.” It means stores start displaying seasonal or holiday items earlier and earlier. So you might see Christmas decorations in October, Easter chocolates in February, or autumn coats in the peak of summer heat.
From a marketing perspective, it’s simple: the earlier the campaign starts, the longer the shopping window. That means more sales, faster stock turnover, and bigger profits. Since visual displays and messaging are planned months ahead, by the time the season “officially” arrives, everything is already in full swing.
The Annoying Side and Its Personal Impact
On a personal level, it’s frustrating because I often can’t find what I actually need. A swimsuit in August? Nearly impossible. Not because it’s not somewhere in the store, but because no new sizes are ordered. Either I get lucky with a big sale (that fits), or I order online and hope for the best.
Walking through stores, I often feel like I’m always behind. If I don’t buy Christmas decor now (or that swimsuit, of course), it’ll probably be gone when I really need it. But it’s not just me—this system pressures all of us. On a societal level, it pushes us into the future nonstop. We can’t enjoy the present because shop windows already remind us of the next season. It’s like we don’t have the right to savor the last sunbeam, or else we’re like the cricket in the story—while the ant was already thinking about hard times during summer!
This season-blurring sends a message. It’s as if no time is ever good enough. Summer isn’t real summer because you have to prepare for fall. Then fall isn’t real fall because by Halloween, Christmas lights are flashing in your face, topped off with Black Friday deals. This consumer pressure is very deliberate: if you’re always longing for the next season, you’ll never feel satisfied with what you have now—and you’ll reach for your wallet again.
Adding to this, more analysts now recommend a “flexible retail calendar” that doesn’t rely on traditional seasons but on lifestyle-based, artificially created periods. That’s how “grilling season” or “soccer season” become new revenue streams. Seasonality today isn’t about fixed dates but about brands turning everyday moments into business opportunities.
What Does This Mean for Us Everyday Shoppers?
Maybe it means we need to consciously resist the rush. To remind ourselves that summer has every right to last as long as it does. That we won’t miss out if we don’t rush into the next holiday.
I want summer to really stay summer, and Christmas to truly be Christmas. That doesn’t mean leaving everything to the last minute—it means appreciating the beauty of the present and not letting retail steal it from me. No big rebellion needed—just a mindful no to the pressure. For example, this year, even though store decor tempted me in August, I waited until after the autumn equinox to welcome the season’s colors onto my terrace. And you know what? It felt so much better! Especially since we traveled in mid-September, a perfect way to close this lively season. After that, I turned to fall with a calm heart—and it felt great to see even the weather on my side, as if approving my choice.
