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  • The Coca-Cola red suit story is not true. Here is what is.

    The Coca-Cola red suit story is not true. Here is what is.

    In 1868, the United States Confection Company of New York ran an advertisement for a product called Sugar Plums. The ad has a Santa Claus in it. He is wearing red.

    Coca-Cola would not be invented for another eighteen years.

    That is the whole refutation, and I could stop there, but the true story is better than the false one, so let us do the true one.

    The claim you have heard is that Coca-Cola dressed Santa Claus in red in the 1930s to match the company’s branding, and that before that he wore green, or brown, or whatever the teller prefers. It is repeated every December by people who consider themselves too smart to be fooled by advertising, which is the joke, because the claim is itself the thing they are congratulating themselves for seeing through.

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    Here is the actual sequence.

    1821. New York. A small book called The Children’s Friend prints eight hand-colored lithographs of a figure called Santeclaus, driving a sleigh behind a reindeer, arriving on Christmas Eve. He is in red. These are the earliest published pictures of Santa Claus in America, and he is already the color he is now.

    1863. Thomas Nast, the German-born political cartoonist, draws Santa for Harper’s Weekly. This first one is in stars and stripes, handing out gifts at a Union army camp, because it is the middle of the Civil War and Nast is doing propaganda. He will draw Santa about thirty times over the next twenty-three years.

    1868. The Sugar Plums ad above. Red.

    1881. Nast draws “Merry Old Santa Claus.” Round, white-bearded, fur-trimmed red suit, sack of toys. This is essentially the modern Santa, finished, fifty years early.

    1880s onward. Louis Prang, another German immigrant, sometimes called the father of the American Christmas card, is printing Santa in red at scale and mailing him into houses all over the country.

    1915 to the 1920s. White Rock, a beverage company, is running Santa in its ads. In color by the early twenties. Also red. Also not Coca-Cola.

    1931. Coca-Cola’s advertising man, Archie Lee, hires an illustrator named Haddon Sundblom. Sundblom paints Santa for Coke every year until 1964. The paintings are extraordinarily good. They are also arriving at a party that has been running for a hundred and ten years.

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    The company itself does not claim otherwise. In 2008 Phil Mooney, then the director of Coca-Cola’s archives, said plainly that Coke did not come up with the idea of putting Santa in red, and noted only that it has worked out nicely for them.

    So what did Coca-Cola actually do? Something real, and worth naming precisely: they standardized him and they exported him. Sundblom’s Santa is warm, specific, and repeated identically for thirty-three years, on a distribution network that reached most of the planet. Before Sundblom, Santa was red but he was also negotiable, drifting in size and temperament from artist to artist. After Sundblom, he was fixed. Coke did not paint the suit. Coke laminated it.

    Now the part that matters for this book.

    The myth is popular because it lets us off. If Coca-Cola built our Christmas, then the flatness of our Christmas is something that was done to us by a soda company, and we are victims of it, and we can enjoy being annoyed about it.

    The truth is worse. Go back and read what that 1821 Santa does. He gives an apple, or a tart, or a wooden gun, or a book, to good children. And to the children he finds “thankless to parents, liars, swearers,” he leaves a long black birchen rod, and the poem is explicit that the rod is for the parents to use.

    The first American Santa carried a switch. He is red, he comes on Christmas Eve, he judges you, and he arms your father. Nobody at Coca-Cola took that away. It drained out slowly over a century, in a thousand small decisions by illustrators and publishers and parents, all of them choosing the softer version, none of them wrong exactly, and the accumulated result is a figure who watches everything and does nothing.

    Coke did not sand the teeth off Santa Claus. We did that ourselves, and we did most of it before Coke was born.

    If this is the kind of thing you want a whole book of, the Kindle is live now.

  • Tomorrow Is the First Day of Fall and I Cannot Contain Myself

    Tomorrow Is the First Day of Fall and I Cannot Contain Myself

    Tomorrow. It is tomorrow.

    I realize that the autumnal equinox is technically an astronomical event and not something that requires a countdown or a vigil or a blog post written the night before in a state of barely contained excitement. I realize that. And yet here we are, because I am a person who has been waiting for fall since approximately the middle of July when it was one hundred degrees outside and I was deeply, personally offended by the weather.

    Tomorrow the calendar makes it official. The air has already been making it official for a few weeks now, if we are being honest, because fall does not wait for the calendar. Fall arrives when it is ready and the calendar catches up eventually. But there is still something about the first official day, the equinox, the moment the earth tilts and the northern hemisphere says okay, we are done with that, that feels like a holiday to me. A personal, deeply held, slightly over-the-top holiday.

    I have been celebrating the arrival of fall my whole life. Not with any particular ritual or tradition, though I think one should probably be developed and I am open to suggestions, but with a feeling. A full chest, all-in, this-is-my-season feeling that I have never been able to talk myself out of or down from. Fall just does something to me that no other season does. It makes me feel most like myself. Most alive. Most creative. Most grateful.

    I wrote a whole album about it. Give Me Fall came out on August 31st and it is my love letter to everything this season is and everything it brings and everyone it is better with. Fifteen songs, from the joyful opener about pumpkins and hay rides and corn mazes to the spiritual closer about learning to let go the way the leaves do. If you have not listened yet, tomorrow, the first day of fall, is the perfect day to press play for the first time.

    But I am also thinking tonight, on the eve of the equinox, about what is coming after fall. Not because I want to rush through fall, I absolutely do not, I want to live in every single October minute, but because I am a maker and I am always working on the next thing while I am loving the current thing. And the next thing I am working on is rooted in winter and tradition and storytelling and the kind of music that feels like candlelight and snow and something ancient and beautiful. I cannot say much more than that yet. But I am saying that much on purpose because I want you excited. You should be excited.

    Get on my email list here and you will hear about it first when I am ready to share.

    For now, tomorrow. First day of fall. I want you to do something intentional with it. Open a window. Make something warm to drink. Put on a flannel. Go outside and actually look at the sky. Take one slow breath of the autumn air and let it do what it does to you.

    And then put on Give Me Fall and let me celebrate the season with you. Find me on Spotify, Apple Music, Amazon Music, Deezer, and Pandora. Follow me so every new release finds you automatically. Come hang out on Instagram, Facebook, and YouTube where I will absolutely be posting about the first day of fall like it is a major holiday. Because it is.

    Tell me in the comments: how are you celebrating the first day of fall tomorrow? What is your plan? I want the details.

    See you on the other side of the equinox.

    Warmly, Melanie Grace


  • My Favorite Fall Morning Routine

    My Favorite Fall Morning Routine

    I am a summer morning person. I know that is something people do not often admit because summer mornings have a certain reputation for being idyllic, all birdsong and warm golden light and open windows. And they are. They are perfectly nice. But they do not do for me what a fall morning does. A fall morning is a different thing entirely. A fall morning is the reason I wrote an entire album about this season.

    Let me tell you about my favorite kind of morning.

    It starts before I am fully awake, with the window cracked from the night before and the air coming through it at a temperature that makes the blanket feel deliberate and good. That specific experience, the cool air from the window meeting the warmth of the bed, is one of the small sensory pleasures I look forward to all year. I am not being dramatic when I say that this exact moment is worth anticipating from July. The cracked fall window is one of the great simple joys of being alive.

    I get up and the first thing I do is not look at my phone. This is a practice I have been working on for a couple of years and fall makes it easier because there is already something better to look at. The light outside in fall is different from any other season. Lower, more golden, arriving later and already carrying color with it. I try to see it before I see a screen, to let October have the first claim on my attention rather than the internet.

    Then coffee. Always coffee. And in September and October the coffee means something particular because the seasonal menus are back and the whole ritual of fall drinking is underway. I wrote a song about this called First PSL on my new album Give Me Fall, and while I have some dignity and am not exclusively a pumpkin spice person, I will tell you that the first pumpkin spice latte of the season is a genuine event in my life that I take seriously. Sometimes it is a home version with a syrup I bought at the craft store. Sometimes it is the real thing from the drive-through. Either way it is October in a cup and I love it without apology.

    I take my coffee to the porch or the closest window and I spend a few minutes doing nothing. Not productive nothing, not scrolling nothing, just sitting nothing. Watching the leaves. Noticing what has changed overnight. Seeing whether any new colors have arrived since yesterday. Fall moves fast and if you are not watching you will miss the peak and only realize it after the fact, when the trees are already bare and you are standing there thinking wait, when did that happen.

    This is also when I do my best thinking about music. The early fall morning is when songs come to me most naturally. Something about the quiet and the particular quality of the light and the permission the season gives to slow down and feel things. A lot of the songs on Give Me Fall started as early morning thoughts on a porch or beside a window before the day started asking things of me.

    I will also say, because I cannot help myself, that there is something coming later this year that I have been working on during these early mornings that I think you are going to love. A project rooted in the winter season, in tradition and storytelling and the particular magic of the coldest and most beautiful time of year. I am not ready to share all the details yet but I am working on it in the early mornings and it is making me very happy. Join my email list here to be the first to know.

    Tell me in the comments: what does your fall morning routine look like? Are you a slow morning person or a get-going person? And what is the one fall morning thing you look forward to most? I want all of it.

    Give Me Fall is streaming now on Spotify, Apple Music, Amazon Music, Deezer, and Pandora. Please follow me so every new release finds you. Come hang out on Instagram, Facebook, and YouTube.

    Here is to crisp mornings and slow coffee and the window cracked just enough.

    Warmly, Melanie Grace


  • What Fall Is Teaching Me This Year

    What Fall Is Teaching Me This Year

    Every year fall teaches me something. Not always the same thing and not always something I was ready to learn, but something. The season has a way of doing that. It creates just enough stillness and just enough beauty that the things you have been too busy to notice all summer suddenly have room to surface.

    This year fall is teaching me about presence.

    I know that sounds like something you read on a coffee mug, and I promise I am going somewhere more specific with it than that. But I want to start there because I think presence is one of those words we use so often that it stops meaning anything, and fall has a way of making it mean something again.

    Here is what I notice every October. The light changes. It comes in at a different angle, lower and more golden, and it makes everything look like it is worth looking at. The ordinary things, the kitchen table, the coffee mug, the person across from you, they all look different in October light. More vivid. More worth memorizing. And I find myself doing something in fall that I do not do as naturally in other seasons. I find myself stopping. Just stopping and looking and letting something be beautiful without immediately moving on to the next thing.

    I wrote about this in a song called Golden Hours on my new album Give Me Fall, which is out now everywhere you stream music. The line that I keep coming back to is this one: you can be awake inside them. The golden hours, the beautiful moments, the October evenings around the firepit. You cannot hold onto them and you cannot slow them down, but you can be awake inside them. You can choose to actually be where you are.

    That is what fall is teaching me this year. To be where I am.

    Practically this has looked like a few things. It has looked like putting my phone in another room during dinner more consistently than I have in years. It has looked like taking five extra minutes on the porch in the morning before the day starts asking things of me. It has looked like saying yes to the hay ride even when there were other things I could have been doing, and then sitting on that wagon looking up at the October sky and feeling genuinely glad I went.

    I think this is a faith practice as much as it is a life practice. Paying attention is an act of gratitude. Stopping to actually see something beautiful is a way of saying thank you to the One who made it. And fall, with its extravagant color and its lowering light and its particular quality of air, makes that gratitude easier to access than almost any other season. It is hard to be rushing through October and miss what October is doing. The season insists on being noticed.

    Proverbs talks about wisdom being present at creation, delighting in the inhabited world, rejoicing in the human race. I love that image, wisdom rejoicing. I think fall is a season for rejoicing. For being genuinely, fully glad. Not performing gladness but actually feeling it, which requires stopping long enough to feel it.

    What is fall teaching you this year? I am asking sincerely. I think these are the conversations worth having in September, before the busyness of the holiday season arrives and the pace picks back up and presence becomes harder to choose.

    I am also going to mention quietly that something is coming later this year that I think is going to give a lot of people a reason to stop and feel something. I have been working on a project with a very different feel from Give Me Fall, something that leans into the storytelling and tradition of the winter season. I am not ready to share all of it yet but I am so excited, and I think if you love this time of year and the faith woven through it you are going to love what is coming. Get on my email list here to be the first to hear about it.

    In the meantime, Give Me Fall is out now and waiting for you on Spotify, Apple Music, Amazon Music, Deezer, and Pandora. Please follow me so you never miss a new release. Come find me on Instagram, Facebook, and YouTube.

    Be where you are today. Fall is worth it.

    Warmly, Melanie Grace


  • Give Me Fall Is Out and I Have So Many Feelings

    Give Me Fall Is Out and I Have So Many Feelings

    I am sitting here on the other side of release week with a cup of something warm and a whole lot of gratitude and I just need to talk to you for a minute.

    Give Me Fall is out in the world.

    Fifteen songs that I wrote through the spring and summer, dreaming about fall before it arrived, pouring everything I love about this season into lyrics and melodies and Suno prompts and Google Docs and a spreadsheet that I am genuinely proud of. And now it is out there. You can press play on it. You can add it to your fall playlist. You can listen to it on your porch with something warm in your hands and a cardigan on your shoulders and honestly that is the only review I need.

    First, I want to say thank you. If you have streamed even one song from this album, you have done something that matters to an independent artist more than you probably know. Every stream counts. Every follow on a streaming platform counts. Every share and every comment and every person who told someone else about this album, it counts. I see it and I feel it and I am so genuinely grateful.

    Release week is a strange thing when you make music independently. There is no label behind you sending out press releases and buying playlist placements and running ads. There is just you and the music and the people who care enough to share it. And the people who showed up for this album, including you reading this right now, are the reason I keep making music.

    I want to tell you a little bit about what this album means to me beyond just the songs themselves. Give Me Fall is the first album I have made that feels completely intentional from the first track to the last. It has a thesis, borrowed from F. Scott Fitzgerald, that life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall. It has a love thread that runs through every single song because I believe fall is always better with someone. And it holds a quiet love letter to the season itself, which is a thing I have wanted to write for years and finally did.

    The song I am most surprised by is Jump. It started as a silly idea about jumping in a leaf pile and ended up being the most emotionally true thing I have written about staying young in your spirit. And the song that felt like pure joy from start to finish was October Ready, which is my love letter to decoration day and craft show hauls and the wreath you absolutely did not need but bought anyway.

    I also want to give you a small, exciting hint about what is coming next. Fall is not the only season I have been writing about this year. I have something in the works for winter that I think is going to be something really special, something with a very different sonic world than Give Me Fall, something that leans into storytelling and tradition and the magic of the season. More on that very soon. Sign up for my email list here if you want to be the first to know when I can share more.

    For now, please go stream Give Me Fall and if you have not followed me yet on your streaming platform of choice please do that right now. Following is how the algorithm knows to tell you when I release something new, and I am planning to release something new very soon.

    You can find me on Spotify, Apple Music, Amazon Music, Deezer, and Pandora. Come hang out with me on Instagram, Facebook, and YouTube where I share behind the scenes and new music updates constantly.

    Tell me in the comments: which song from Give Me Fall has been your favorite so far? I want to know. I genuinely want to know.

    Thank you for being here. Thank you for listening. Give me fall, and give me you right here with me for all of it.

    Warmly, Melanie Grace