Santa and the City

In the two and a half weeks that I’ve been dressing up as Santa for the City, I’ve weathered biting cold winds, gusts of heat and hundreds of hugs from sweaty, snot-crusted children.

To bulk up as the big guy, I wear an upper body stocking with fleece attached (my “fat suit”), extra-large Santa pants that threaten to fall down when I walk across Marion Square, a belt buckled with safety pins, a heavy coat with white fur cuffs and collar and a beard strapped tight around my head and chin.

I don’t recommend wearing this on a shadeless 78 degree day, especially if your job requires you to be ceaselessly jolly.

I’ve stripped off as many layers as I can without losing my guise and a few passers-by have wondered why St. Nick looks so skinny. Could it be the dehydration, or the pounds of flesh I’ve been sweating off?

If it gets any warmer, I’ll have to go the Florida Santa route – Bermuda shorts, sandals and sunglasses. It’s about time Charleston’s old elf got some Sunshine State style.