Why I Spent A Full Year Celebrating Made-Up Holidays — 'National Bubble Bath Day, Adopt A Guinea Pig Day, You Name It'
Suddenly, every day had a different meaning.
ferrantraite | Canva National Bubble Bath Day, British Pie Week, Adopt A Rescued Guinea Pig Month: I’ve always been tickled by these funny pseudo-holidays. A staple of the PR and awareness-raising arsenal, they offer easy prompts for the inspiration-starved columnist, talk DJ, or primary-school teacher.
Some Days are important (World Cancer Day, International Day of Forests, Zero Waste Week); some are \commercial (National Stationery Week; Anti-Frizz Month, courtesy of Alberto V05); and some are just silly (CAPS LOCK DAY, Zombie Awareness Month).
When I discovered they now run into the thousands, I began wondering: What would happen to a person if they tried to observe a different one every day for a year? A ridiculous idea, with no obvious point. I was in.
How To Observe A Made-Up Holiday
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How, though, to observe a day? The keywords seem to be: fun, literal, and respectful. ‘On International Talk Like a Pirate Day, people say “Arrrr!” and “Matey!” On National Chilli Day, they eat chili.
On Haiku Day they read or write haikus,’ Holly McGuire, editor-in-chief of Chase’s Calendar of Events, a venerable resource, told me. Sam Alderson of Days Of The Year, a British-based site, was encouraging: ‘As long as it’s coming from a sincere part of you, then any celebration — even in the smallest way — is fine.’
At the start, I thought it’d all be a bit of a laugh. I went on work calls dressed as a gorilla for Wear A Gorilla Suit Day, got pelted with cake on National Fruitcake Tossing Day, and quite enjoyed my DIY yogic nasal cleanse (National Wash Your Nose Day). I dressed up as a daffodil and did 1000 squats for Marie Curie, and alarmed friends by signing up for the London Marathon on Paget’s Disease Day.
I started to meet Day makers and Day followers too. My star was Jenny’s National Days. Each of Jenny’s Instagram posts is an elaborately staged cosplay video, usually combining several Days. Take the drama of April 26: National Pretzel Day, Help a Horse Day, and Richter Scale Day.
Chester the cuddly horse is knocked over by an earth tremor, but fortunately, Jenny arrives dressed as a toy soldier (‘a semi-regular character in my videos’) to revive him with a pretzel, and they ride off into the sunset. Jenny plans to keep extending her oeuvre ‘indefinitely.’
From silly to serious made-up holidays
Gradually, however, I was drawn to the more serious Days. We live in a world where World Lymphoma Awareness Day falls on the same day as National Double Cheeseburger Day (September 15), and where Holocaust Memorial Day (January 27) sits between National Peanut Butter Day and National Kazoo Day.
No one in the fake-holiday world seems to find this at all odd. As my energy waned and I began to dread asking family and friends for more sponsorship money, I found myself researching things instead.
From delayed cancer diagnoses to food poverty, there was much to shock and appall, though nothing more than my ignorance. I found myself volunteering for a food bank and canvassing for a political party.
In the slump of the summer holidays, I decided I needed to start talking to people. On their respective Days, I had wonderful conversations with all sorts: a hermit, a lighthouse keeper, a town crier, a stationery fetishist.
I was inspired by encounters with people affected by lupus, cerebral palsy, and deafblindness. In the final exhausting weeks, I was drawn to quick and easy actions — petitions, wristbands, charity lotteries. I took ruthless advantage of Eat A Bagel Day and Last Minute Christmas Shopping Day.
Now I’ve stepped off the fake holiday carousel, I see all the Days and campaigns coming around again. There is so much need out there, that it’s easy to fall into fatalism and despair.
But I take heart from the invisible army of volunteer heroes who just roll up their sleeves and keep going. As the sign on the foodbank door says: Come as you are. Do what you can.
Who Decides On Made-Up Holidays?
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Made-up holidays have been around since at least National Raisin Day — launched by California raisin growers in 1909 — but today’s explosion of Days coincides with the rise of social media. Anyone can create a day now — you just need to find an audience or a fake holiday authority to make it stick. Or a celebrity endorsement, as when President Obama tweeted ‘Arr you in?’ on Talk Like A Pirate Day in 2012.
Commercial US calendar sites like the North Dakota-based National Day Calendar sound official; if they accept your Day, they will even issue a proclamation. But these days have names like National Chocolate Covered Raisin Day, National Dimples Day, and National Something On A Stick Day — not national, or indeed holidays, in any formal sense.
The National Day Calendar site receives "thousands of submissions a year," says Amy Monette, an employee, of which 30–35 are approved by a committee of four. Days have to be unique, social media-friendly, and ‘worth celebrating.’ Monette is coy about sponsorship costs, which run into the thousands, but says the resulting exposure punches way above its weight: "We reach millions of people a day." There are over 2,200 Days on the site.
John-Bryan Hopkins, ‘the godfather of food holidays’, revamped the edible calendar with his Foodimentary blog and book, downgrading historic observances for the likes of lard and frozen food in favor of his own creations like National Comfort Food Day (December 5) and National Pizza with the Works Except Anchovies Day (November 12).
As Hopkins discovered, the evolution of a Day from whim to the canonical fact can move very fast: "The first year, it’s just me telling people to take my word. By year two, the news people believed it because it was around the previous year. When year three comes, it’s like it was written in the Bible."
Once you’ve established your Day and found your people, it’s time to monetize. The guys behind I Hate Coriander Day (February 24) have grown their Facebook group (mission statement: ‘We. Hate. Coriander’) to over 185,000 followers. An ‘Official I Hate Coriander OG Hoodie’ will set you back $74.95.
Dan Brotzel is an award-winning writer of fiction, comedy, and journalism. He has words in Slackjaw, Writers Digest, She, The Fence, and more. His latest novel is Thank You For The Days.