Your cart is currently empty!
The Holiday Windows- A Christmas Fairytale @ Harrods
Harrods this seasons is all Burberry’d out to the nines in its rendition of a Christmas Fairy tale. The past few years have seen Harrods windows transform from the mundane to the truly fantastical, its not so black and white, it injects colours and inspires the imagination. Whilst this window will always remain a firm favourite because it inspired this book, I am still enamoured by the Burberry window of this year because it excites the imagination with its fairytale. So ladies and gentlemen, enjoy the Christmas fairytale from Harrods way of Burberry with Madam’s spin on it.
It’s a dark and stormy Christmas and everyone is off to the big house in the valley behind the hills for the Christmas dinner with Grandma Fourmedablue.
A woman as fearsome as her name suggest. There will be a big tree and presents, a fat turkey with all the trimmings.
And there will be family around the table.
What to wear, what to wear, mommy runs around the wardrobe like a headless turkey full of dread.
She’ll find her lovely pearls and lace dress courtesy of the Burberry seamstress. It’s on the bed.
Children will make a mess, rip a dress and slide down stairs.
In the big wardrobe atop the stairs, something magical awaits.
Curious as cats, one by one they peer in and whoa! fall down a thousand worlds until they land with a thud.
The land of Christmas with magic all around.
The weird old gardener hurries along, his very long tartan scarf trails in his wake.
In the clearing a table is set, Mr Badger and Mrs Bear, who looks a lot like Grandmama, beckons to them for a dinner party.
Mr Frog is the toastmaster and Lord Fox the cake maker.
Down by the meadow a river rushes through the frozen lake where a floating picnic brings food to the table.
In boats made out of big umbrellas from the magical shed of wonders and peculiars.
Biscuits and cakes and chocolates from the pantry whilst cranky Mr Deer tells a tale most scary.
Singing frogs croak to song and happy unicorns eat all the honey.
They’ll play, they’ll dance and they’ll break things that will magically put themselves back together.
The eccentric composer’s tune carries from the big house, calling all to dinner.
His head bobs back and forth and to the middle.
The cranky old cook sets the table for Christmas supper
A mess has been made in the library, someone has left the bath running, it overflows down the steps and into the wardrobe.
The foam lifts the children and their friends high above the trees to touch the clouds and whoosh! back down to the ground.
Grandmama taps her cane and they all come rushing through the wardrobe doors.
Ferns and badgers, foxes and asses, all human again and sat around the large table.
She is filled with so much good food she gives a little giggle.
Lazy aunt Zelda who lies in bed for days, waiting for Prince Charming, climbs down her ladder to join in the chitter chatter.
They hold hands and say a prayer for tis the season for all to come together.
Grandma Fourmedablue looks around the table, all eyes closed except for the children.
A wink and a smile, and with a finger to her lips, she holds them to the secret of the wardrobe atop the stairs.
Happy Christmas one and all.