Japan's secular embrace of Christmas has resulted in a holiday less about impending nativity and more about the loss of virginity, writes David McNeill from Tokyo.
It's the holy trinity of seasonal clichés. People are forgetting the true meaning and tradition of Christmas. It gets more commercial every year. Families are no longer the centre of the festive season. You've heard those lines a million times, right? But have you ever wondered what a Christmas without religion, tradition or cultural roots would be like? And just for good measure, how about a Christmas that puts not the family centre stage, but lovers? Wonder no more.
A vast social experiment is under way in Japan, where thousands of Santa's little helpers are busily preparing presents for boys and girls who've been good. And the top gifts this season are platinum rings, restaurant seats, hotel reservations and boxes of condoms.
Japan's genius for absorbing all things foreign and making them its own is never more evident than during December, when Christmas comes to jolly up the dour winter months. The sudden appearance of frosted pine trees, Santa and a riot of tinsel, glitter and fairy lights might make it look like the West's Christmas season, but don't be fooled. This is an example of what happens when you graft an essentially Western religious festival onto a rich Eastern country, where less than 1 per cent of the population is Christian.
Imported by foreign missionaries in the last century, the only part of Christmas that initially took off in Japan was the cake, which millions of dads bought on the way home from work on December 24th.
As the economy boomed in the 1980s, however, the country's service industries helped re-brand product Xmas into a kind of Valentine's Day with bells on. Hyped by TV, which featured tales of unlikely romantic alliances transformed by the "miracle" of Christmas, hotels, restaurants and jewellery companies piled in to sell their wares. By the end of the decade, Christmas Eve was the one day of the year when it was deeply uncool to be without an expensive date.
Today's younger set knows it only as an opportunity to shop and, for many, to lose their virginity.
Although still just a 21-year-old student, Kenji Matsumoto has spent 80,000 yen (about €652) on his dream date to Japan's northernmost island, Hokkaido. The price includes flights for two, restaurant meals and a stay in a Sapporo hotel on December 24th. Throw in the ring he says he's going to buy, and the price tag for the trip climbs to over €800.
His classmate, Ayaka Yamamoto, still has the 30,000 yen (€244) ring she got on last year's Christmas excursion. "I broke up with my boyfriend afterwards," she says sheepishly.
Most of Japan's under-30s have been on similar "dating courses", usually involving a trip to Tokyo Disneyland or some other venue, an expensive meal, a piece of jewellery and the, er, climax - an overnight stay in a hotel. The most popular hotels, such as the Disney Ambassador, which is close to the theme park just outside Tokyo, are booked out weeks before December 24th.
Many hotels sell Christmas deals aimed at couples. The Ritz-Carlton in Japan's second city, Osaka, for example, is this year offering a one-night stay "complete with presents, an original stuffed animal and a small Christmas tree". Guests can also wallow in a rose-scented bubble bath and have a commemorative photo taken, all for a snip at just 49,000 yen (€399).
For those who can't afford such extravagance, there are always Japan's ubiquitous love hotels, which charge by the hour and are usually packed on Christmas Eve.
"It's the Christmas in the heart that puts Christmas in the air," said American commentator W.T. Ellis.
Surely, then, there are few places more Christmassy than Japan.
All this festive fornication naturally takes a terrible toll on the national supply of prophylactics. Sales of condoms, still Japan's favourite contraceptive, spike 20-30 per cent for the month of December.
"Christmas is boom time for us," says the manager of Condomania on Tokyo's Omotesando, a popular gathering spot for young people.
If you're offended by this cheerfully godless version of the holiest season, rest assured. God puts in an appearance, albeit briefly and probably not for the right reasons.
Irish priest Father Joe O'Leary, who teaches at Sophia University in Tokyo, says his midnight Mass service on Christmas Eve is so popular, he has to give out tickets for it. "It's a very pluralistic society, so people like the atmosphere of it, rather than the religion."
For those of us trained to expect at least two full days of bacchanalian gluttony followed by a television-induced coma once midnight Mass ends, the biggest shock has yet to come.
On Christmas Day, the tinsel and glitter come down, the carols stop and the leggy girls in Santa hats disappear from the nation's TV screens.
December 25th is a normal working day in Japan and, for most of the country, it's heads down until the New Year holiday or Shogatsu, the festival that most resembles a Western family Christmas. Shogatsu means two days in the family home with mom and dad drinking sake and eating sticky rice dumplings. This is what it's all about, right?
"It's boring," says 17-year-old student Kai Ishii. "I'd rather play with my PlayStation."
