Chris MacDonald never met Santa as a kid, but he’s spent much of his adult life sharing his “heart-based” style with kids of all ages. We ask him about what makes a good Santa, his year-long beard routine, and what to do when a kid (or teenager) is a little scared.
So how did you first become Santa? Was it the classic tale of you accidentally scaring the real Santa off your roof and taking over the role out of guilt?
I don’t really have many early Santa memories, which is weird, I guess. But Santa wasn’t the reason for the season when I was a kid — Jesus was. Santa was around, but he wasn’t a big part of Christmas for me. I don’t know if I ever even saw Santa at a mall when I was a kid.
So what happened?
The actual motivation for me being Santa is super heavy, but it’s also really great. I hated Christmas for years from like 17 to maybe like 30, because my little brother died when I was 17, three weeks before Christmas. So that just made Christmas season super shitty, and I would just get super down all around that time.
What changed?
The actual inspiration for doing Santa came when I was 23. I read an article in an in-flight magazine on a flight home from Mexico, about a dude in California who was in his 40s, and somebody said to him, Hey, you’re really good with kids. You’ve got a big beard — you should be Santa. And the next year, he gave it a shot. So he bleached his beard, threw in a bunch of makeup, and started doing Santa gigs and cleaned up as Santa right? He was making like, an annual wage during Santa season. So I thought, when I retire, maybe I’ll be Santa.
A few years later, I was 28 or 29 working at a social service agency, and they asked me to do Santa for an event. I was like, sure. So I slapped on a fake beard, and it was great. It was fun. I love doing it. The next year, working at a different agency, they asked me to do the same thing. I was like, OK, I feel this. It’s good. It’s fun. The following year, I grew a big beard out, bleached it, put on a bunch of makeup, and started doing it. That was 12 years ago and it’s totally turned my perspective around. Now, I don’t have a Christmas season — I have a Santa season, and then I have Christmas Day.
Wow. That is a much more dramatic and compelling reason than I was expecting. It sounds like no exaggeration to say that becoming Santa changed your life.
I was a drunk, pothead Grinch for some years, and then I turned into Santa. So it’s been a total character change, and I’ve radically changed in the years since I started it.
So now that you have so much Santa experience, what’s the most important thing for a professional Santa to really nail down — the beard, the belly or the boisterous laugh?
Ooh, that’s tough, but it’s either the beard or boisterous laugh. The belly is whatevs — no kid has ever commented on me being a skinny Santa, although adults mention it all the time. I’m like a buck-60, so I get comments about being the skinny Santa from adults all the time.
Even in your fat suit?
Oh yeah. And I got a prosthetic ass last year. So I’ve got a prosthetic butt, I’ve got the fat suit, I’ve got a sports bra stuffed with frozen magic bags to keep me cool. But kids don’t notice the belly at all. They notice the beard — I see them checking it out, because they’re super close, checking to see if it’s real, and I’ll just give it a little tug. The colour is not real, but the beard itself is very real.
I played Santa in our Grade Three play as a kid, and they just stuffed a folded pillow under my suit. But 10 minutes into the performance, it unfolded and the corners looked like nipples. So I know the feeling of adults focusing on your fake fat. But my beard was totally fake, too. How much work does it take to maintain a real one?
I shave on Christmas day and then I just grow it the rest of the year. No trim, just brush and coconut oil. The day that I shave, I start with a boar bristle brush, brushing it out into form. And the mustache is trained to go out, Santa style.
Do you look down on Santas who use fake beards? Or are you secretly happy when a kid tugs on theirs?
I don’t know if I’d say I look down on them, but…there’s a Santa in St. Albert, he’s a fantastic performer. And he’s got a fake beard, but it’s like a high-quality glue on, and he’s a great Santa. But if it’s just slapped on and looks really fake, with just the ear loops, then it’s just shitty. So I don’t look down on the fake beard — I look down on the lack of effort, because when kids see that, it just takes away from the magic of the thing.
Is there a Santa accent? And how do you get yourself into the rhythm of it?
Yes, it’s kind of like a Pan-European accent — it’s not British, it’s not Irish, it’s kind of a generic mix of it all. And what gets me into it is just the low, deep belly laugh — but it’s not “Ho-ho-ho,” because Santa doesn’t literally say that. I try to go as “real person” as possible with it, because then it’s like I’m always laughing, because he’s a jolly, boisterous fella. But no real person goes “H0-ho-ho” when they laugh.
You mentioned the guy in St. Alberta is a good performer. What makes a good Santa?
Just connection — connecting with a kid, with a person, just making eye contact and having a real connection. My style is way different than Rupert’s [from St. Albert]. He’s super funny, whereas the greatest compliment I received as a Santa was that I was a “heart-based” Santa. I’m studying to become a psychologist. So I just really listen and see them and hear them and do an attachment-style Santa. So where he’s always looking for a joke or a punchline, I’m more asking questions and listening.
Is there a go-to strategy for when kids are scared?
I juggle, so if they’re coming up slowly, and they’re a bit scared, I’ll take one ball and I’ll just roll it to the kid, and then maybe they’ll catch it and roll it back. Then we play pass for a little bit. And then I grab another one out, and it’s like magic, because they don’t see where it comes from. And then a third one appears I start juggling and they’re like, Oh, this guy just did magic — he really is Santa!
But if the parents just rush them up and try to throw them on me, I say, hold on a minute — let’s try something. And so I ask if they have a favourite song, like “Row, Row, Row Your Boat,” or “Wheels on the Bus,” and we sing the song together. After two or three rounds of that, we try a slow transition to sit with me. Or we’ll do a family picture first, with everybody, because it’s hard to recover from being upset, because I wouldn’t want to sit with some strange dude who I was scared of, either.
What’s the oldest “kid” you’ve let sit on your lap?
There was a lady in her 80s a few years ago who was really great. I’m 43, so I call every person who’s older than me “young man” or “young lady” just because it’s fun.
Is there a certain size limit for adults who want to visit Santa?
Well if it’s some big farmer dude I’ll say, “Oh, should I sit on your knee?” just to throw out a joke, but they’re good about not putting all their weight on me. And if it’s a teenager who’s doesn’t want to be doing it, then I’ll suggest we go back to back and cross our arms and look at the camera like we’re in Run-D.M.C.
Who asks for better presents, the adults or the kids?
Kids ask for the best ones — adults ask for money. And you’ll get the occasional super-sweet kid who will be like, “I just want everyone to have a good Christmas!” And I’m like, “How did you get so wise at such a young age?” Meanwhile, the adults are saying give me money, because their inner child has been beaten down over the years.
Have you ever thought of doing a more adult, classy Santa?
Well I’ve got my Santa sport coat, and my beanie that I wear walking into places before I get on the full suit. But my friend Steve, he started doing Santa a few years ago, and he’s Kind of Hot Santa. He’s done some bachelorette parties, and some sort of risqué photos. So more in the “classy” realm.
What’s your advice for people looking to book you and where can people find you this holiday season?
If you want to book any Santa, book early — like July/August. And I’ll be at West Ed, Mondays and Tuesdays, until Christmas. And then working with photographers on the weekends.
So this must have become a kind of tribute to your brother, and a way to stay connected with him over the years.
Absolutely. In my work as Santa, or in my work with kids with disabilities — I see a little bit of him in everybody that I encounter. And with the grief, it’s continuing bonds by serving others — through Santa, or other forms of service, I’m keeping that connection with him going. And that makes this a healing thing for me. So it’s fun, but it’s not just fun, right? It really does have that heart-based meaning to it.
Find your heart-based holiday meaning — this Christmas, and for years to come.
