In my childhood memories, December always had a special sparkle. Mexico City was decked out in lights: the Alameda Central with its illuminated trees, Santa Clauses ready for photos, the aroma of freshly made buñuelos and hot ponche from the posadas, the music of Christmas carols singing “los peces en el río…” accompanying the comings and goings of families. But for me, the real magic was in a particular place: La Tienda, as we called my family’s business, El Cordobán, on the legendary Calle 16 de Septiembre.
Needless to say, December was the most tiring yet joyful month in retail. I went every day to help; we were open seven days a week. What I enjoyed most was serving customers who came in very late, around 9:30 at night, when we were literally the only store open… because my mother said, “The curtain doesn’t come down until there’s no one else left!”
What I learned from the family’s tienda
I confess that gift wrapping was one of my main skills, which I learned from my father. He taught me to work with care, emphasizing that every gift from El Cordobán must create a lasting memory.
I also remember the nights at closing time, when I helped my dad with the cash count. We compared sales against the previous year, with a mixture of nerves and excitement. Another of my favorite memories was December 24, when the store closed: my parents would gather the employees and give them bonuses.
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It wasn’t just extra money: it was sincere gratitude for so many hours of work. From childhood, I learned that the driving force behind retail is the people who are with you day and night, and that without them, nothing is possible.
There was something else that set my parents’ understanding of Christmas at La Tienda apart: we had to do something for someone else. That’s why there was a small box on the counter where donations were collected for an orphanage run by nuns. I eagerly awaited Christmas Eve, when we opened the box and counted what we had collected. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to remind us that retail also has a community role to play. And yes, we always gave thanks to God.
Life changed suddenly with the unexpected death of my father. It was my mother who took charge of La Tienda. I admired her strength: with fortitude and heart, she kept the business and the spirit surrounding it alive. When I was older, I would help her whenever I could, and I often took my daughter, Paulina, with me.
La tienda was more than a family busines
Today, looking back, I understand that La Tienda was not just a business. It was a school of life. It taught me that retail is family, it is gratitude, it is community. The holiday season measures success not only in sales, but in the shared memories, preserved traditions, and magic we give to those who walk through our doors.
That’s why I believe Hispanic retail has a unique responsibility at Christmas: to make every customer feel at home, to care for every employee as part of the family, and to keep our traditions alive with colors, aromas, and flavors that connect us to our history.
Because in the end, the true magic of Christmas is not in what we sell, but in how we make people feel.