Before the leaves have finished turning, the inbox fills with Black Friday deals urging us to buy before we’ve even decided what we need. Once upon a time, Black Friday meant a single day of chaos, a rush for bargains before stock “ran out” and headlines of shoppers jostling over discounted TVs. Now, it’s more background noise than excitement. The season has stretched into a week of “exclusive” promotions, with pre-Black Friday discounts, Cyber Monday that drags into Cyber Week, and Boxing Day sales that seem to launch while the turkey is still in the oven.
Christmas has never been just one day, but retailers have turned it into an extended sales season creeping earlier into autumn. Advent calendars are a perfect example. Once a strip of chocolate squares, they’ve exploded into a retail category of their own, spanning beauty, coffee, alcohol, and even dog treats. It’s another case of tradition repackaged as a way to sell more, faster.
COVID accelerated this Christmas creep. During the pandemic, early decorations and gift-buying offered people comfort in a time of uncertainty. What began as a one-off has quietly become the new normal. I’ll admit, I’m not completely against it. I love the lead-up to Christmas and will happily eat a mince pie in November and call it festive spirit. But the buying season does seem to start earlier with every passing year. The silver lining is being able to spread the cost across more paydays, rather than facing one brutal December blow to the bank account.
As a shopper, I know how easy it is to get swept up. Countdown timers flash, websites warn there are “only two items left”, though strangely, they always seem to restock once the deal ends. Half the time, you wonder whether you bagged a bargain or just got played by a marketing algorithm. Consumers are savvier now, armed with browser plug-ins that track price history and expose when a so-called “deal” isn’t really a deal at all.
Black Friday also sits in an awkward place in the economic calendar. On one hand, it can make gifts more affordable when household budgets are under strain, which is a welcome relief in December when costs for food, heating, and celebrations stack up. On the other hand, it’s hard not to feel duped if you’ve paid full price, only to see the item slashed for a weekend and quietly bumped back up weeks later. It leaves you questioning what the item’s true value ever was.
Beyond wallets, there’s the planet to think about. Black Friday has become a festival of overconsumption at exactly the moment when we know we should be buying less, not more. Bargains often mean cheaply made products destined for landfill, and the frenzy fuels a throwaway culture that clashes with growing awareness of climate change and waste.
It’s worth remembering that Black Friday wasn’t originally “ours”. It began in the US, tied to the Thanksgiving holiday weekend. In the last decade, it’s been exported around the world, to countries that don’t celebrate Thanksgiving at all. The rituals haven’t travelled, but the sales machine has. Black Friday has become less about tradition and more about globalised consumer culture.
Ironically, by stretching out the season, retailers may have blunted their own weapon. What was once a single day of adrenaline now feels like endless background noise. Instead of excitement, Black Friday often inspires exhaustion. The thrill has given way to fatigue.
Part of that fatigue comes from how predictable the whole cycle has become. Sales that once felt like rare opportunities now arrive with calendar regularity. Many shoppers simply wait for the inevitable discount rather than paying full price, knowing another “event” is always around the corner. In the process, promotions stop being special and start being expected, creating an endless loop that retailers struggle to escape.
That’s why the brands that stand out now are the ones that feel straightforward and genuine. Dr. Martens, for example, has always been transparent on price, never inflating costs only to deflate them later. Patagonia has gone further, using Black Friday to encourage repair and reuse instead of piling up more shopping bags. Veja has joined in with its “Repair Friday”, swapping discounts for services that extend the life of its trainers. IKEA’s Buy Back & Resell programme turns old furniture into store credit, reselling it second-hand instead of pushing out more flat packs. These brands aren’t anti-shopping. They’re showing that long-term loyalty comes from clarity and authenticity, not gimmicks and flashing timers.
Maybe that’s the lesson. Black Friday isn’t going away; it still drives staggering sales. But its future may look less like retailers cranking up the panic and more like them building trust that lasts longer than a single weekend. Discounts will always matter, but so will honesty, transparency, and values that feel real.
If brands get this balance right, Black Friday could evolve into something more useful than exhausting. It could become less a test of how quickly we can click, and more a reminder that value isn’t only measured in percentages off.
Because in the end, the best sales moments aren’t the ones that leave us frazzled and second-guessing. They’re the ones that left us confident, and content enough to enjoy that early mince pie guilt-free.
Cat Ward, Account Director, Syn
Cat has 14 years’ experience driving and delivering campaigns for some of the biggest names in retail and fashion: adidas, Vans, and Puma. She now partners with Dr Martens from both sides of the table – at Dr. Martens HQ and at creative agency, Syn. Giving her a rare perspective on how brands and agencies can collaborate more effectively to deliver impactful campaigns.
She has led teams and global campaigns across EMEA, thriving on the buzz of fast-paced projects, the challenge of turning ideas into reality, and the thrill of seeing brands come alive in the real world. At her core, she’s all about people, partnerships and finding creative ways to connect, with plenty of humour and an ever-growing Dr. Martens collection.
Outside of work, you'll find her swapping campaign chaos for family life with her daughter, who ensures things stay just as brilliantly unpredictable as retail.
