The Beaute of Christmas - Week 3: The Christmas Table

December has a funny way of shifting the pressure.
At first, it’s the gifts. And then, almost overnight, it becomes the food.

The planning. The panic!
The remembering who eats what.
The mental juggling of traditions, expectations, and time.

And while the Christmas table is often talked about in terms of what’s on it, the truth is, it carries so much more than food. It carries memory, emotion, and the weight of how things have “always been done”.

Lower the Bar (Seriously)

Not every dish needs to be homemade. Who has the time?
Not every tradition needs to be honoured every single year.
And not every Christmas table needs to look the same.

Some years are about doing it all.
Some years are about doing enough.

If you outsource dessert, buy the salad, repeat last year’s menu, or simplify everything, you haven’t failed. You’ve adapted. And that counts.

Plan Once, Think Less

One realistic plan is better than ten half-formed ideas.

Choose:

• the dishes that genuinely matter

• the ones people actually look forward to

• and let the rest go

Christmas doesn’t need a menu that exhausts the cook before the day even arrives.

The Emotional Load of the Table

Food is never just food at Christmas.

It’s memory.
It’s tradition.
It’s who made what, who’s missing, and what reminds us of years gone by.

That’s why it can feel unsettling when the table looks different. And that adjustment can take more energy than we expect.

When Christmas Looks Different

Some years, Christmas looks exactly how you expect it to.
You host.
You plan the menu.
You make sure the familiar favourites appear, almost without thinking.

And other years, Christmas asks you to do things a little differently.

This year, we’ll be travelling rather than hosting, which means the table won’t be one I control and that takes a bit of adjustment when you’re someone who loves tradition. I’m used to the rhythms of a hot Christmas lunch: roast turkey fresh from Dad, roast Pork with an argument over the crackle, hot vegetables, and the dishes that have quietly defined Christmas for as long as I can remember.

I still laugh about the year I forgot to bring the broccoli and cauliflower in white sauce. A genuine Christmas crime in our family. There was such a hole on our plates but I honestly didn’t recall Mum asking me to bring it!

There are just some things that feel non-negotiable when you grow up with them.

Granny always made the trifle but Mum does that now.
A plum pudding might be exchanged for a turkey, but there’s always custard (no brandy, thanks).
I love making pavlova, chocolate ripple cake, and now ginger ripple cake after Dad suggested it.
The kids wait for rum balls or chocolate truffle balls every year. (What do you call them)
And by tea time, it’s leftovers. A self-serve table of cold meats, salads, and whatever dessert is still standing.

These traditions matter. Not because they’re fancy, but because they hold memory.

So when Christmas looks different, it’s okay to feel a little unsettled.
It doesn’t mean you’re ungrateful.
It just means you’re human, learning how to honour the season in a new way.

Sometimes the most generous thing we can do is show up, adapt, and remind ourselves that the heart of Christmas isn’t the menu, it’s the people we’re sharing it with.

The Beaute Connection

Christmas Day doesn’t need a full glam routine. I’ve tried it, but simple is best.

Clean skin.
Comfortable makeup.
A lip colour that feels like you. (red if you dare)

Choose products that last, feel good, and don’t require constant checking in the mirror. You deserve to sit, eat, laugh, and relax, not maintain perfection.

Wrap Up

The Christmas table isn’t a performance.

It’s where stories are told, plates are passed, and moments happen. Messy, funny, imperfect, meaningful moments.

Feed people.
Nourish yourself.
And remember: you belong at the table too.