A Christmas store in a Florida summer is something special

CLEARWATER – On a sun-beaten highway leading to the beach and sitting just a bit east of the world’s first Hooters stands the anomaly known as Robert’s Christmas Wonderland.

The sign hangs above State Road 60 like a giant Little Debbie Christmas tree cake. The roof appears gift-wrapped. And on June 25, the parking lot seemed deserted. As the temperature crept toward 90 with shirt-soaking humidity, the vibes outside were more “reverse seasonal affective disorder” than “cheer.”

The staff opened the door at 10 a.m. for another holly, jolly day.

My idea was to visit the year-round Christmas store on the calendrical “opposite” of Dec. 25. Would there be a single customer? Why stay open 360 days a year? Might the heat feel less unbearable amid the twinkling LED icicles and the spruces made of polyvinyl chloride?

Could I catch a glimpse of a true Christmas superfan?

The first thing that hits you upon entering, thankfully, is the air-conditioning. After that, the cavernous size. We aren’t used to family-owned retailers stretching as big as a modest Publix in this century. A vast variety of stuff fills all 30,000 square feet.

Fourteen types of wreaths were hung high above the ribbon and bow counter, astride bins overflowing with sprigs — so many sprigs — plus stacks of Christmas-themed puzzles and racks of holiday-shaped cookie cutters.

The Christmas tree showroom boasted pre-lit or “snow-flocked” options, such as a massive 12-foot, deluxe, noble, mixed-needle fir for $1,691.95. If a customer wants a tree just how it’s decorated on the floor, the staff will box it all up.

There were string lights, even the old, chubby incandescent style. Robert’s boasts that it carries thousands of ornaments. Eyeballing it, that seems right. A workstation for customizing them with customer’s names stood empty for now, with a corded, landline phone for communicating between departments.

The staff keeps the place immaculate, but after 50 years, it is charmingly broken-in. When a summer thunderstorm began to drown out the background music, the empty store felt like one of those cozy, A.I.-generated Instagram videos engineered to trigger feelings of tranquility and nostalgia. I was inside the real thing.

“It’s hard to be in a bad mood here,” said Michael Winton, one of the employees milling about. And there’s always plenty to do. But I was still waiting to meet a single summer Christmas shopper.

• • •

As soon as Christmas ends, the Robert’s employees begin prepping for next year. That’s just how long it takes. There is no end-of-season blowout sale, because their season never ends.

While I browsed, a couple of women added price tags to ornaments. In the warehouse, a new guy pulled a pallet jack stacked high with more boxes of ornaments that had just arrived.

Sean Reynolds, who has worked there 10 years, tied lengths of ribbon into perfect bows while hardly seeming to pay attention. Reynolds must finish designing and decorating more than 100 trees long before the holiday season, because come November he’s busy with private tree-decorating gigs at wealthy clients’ homes.

When the front door finally opened and a possible customer entered, the young visitor froze. “I think I’m supposed to have an interview?” he said as his eyes darted around Then he exited without saying another word.

A cashier followed him out to see if he was responding to the wanted ad. It turned out he was looking for a Mexican restaurant. He didn’t know year-round Christmas stores existed.

Eventually, some families trickled in, all curious tourists who happened to be driving by on that drizzly afternoon. A child toddled through the artificial forest. What a hoot, the families said. They browsed, didn’t buy.

Would I meet one actual Christmas fanatic, someone on the hunt for a Noel dishtowel who absolutely needed it in their hands today?

• • •

Robert’s manager Dennis Wilkinson pointed out the rings on the warehouse floor. He could still picture the above-ground swimming pools that left them there. When he started 49 years ago, this place was called Christmas Wonderland. They sold Christmas stuff — and pools.

Only the Christmas items stuck. Around 1990, Christmas Wonderland merged with Pinellas Park competitor Robert’s Christmas World to become Robert’s Christmas Wonderland owned by transplants from the Bronx, Bob and Rita Frank.

The vast majority of business comes in the fall and winter, of course. A few years ago, the man who’d played the kid who got his tongue stuck on the pole in “A Christmas Story” made an appearance, and the line went out the door.

Despite the busy months, Robert’s revenue has probably diminished in the time of e-commerce and big box stores. The market for collectibles in general has dwindled, and resale values on limited Christmas village figurines made by companies like Department 56, once sky-high, have taken a dive.

Year-round Christmas shops have dwindled around Florida. The businesses boomed in the late 1980s, opening across the U.S. The Tampa Bay area once had eight. Roberts’ last local competitor was Rogers’ Christmas House Village in Brooksville, but it shut down years ago.

Each store that closes, one staffer noted, makes Robert’s more special.

Things change at Robert’s, but rarely. The store used to play Christmas music exclusively, but they’ve started mixing in non-Christmas tunes, gradually ramping it up to all-Christmas songs. Even in the Christmas store, there’s apparently some limit to how much Christmas the staff can take.

Bob Frank, who owned the business for more than 45 years, died recently. Some retired employees came back to help his wife, Rita Frank, keep the place going.

• • •

Late that Tuesday afternoon, the Christmas fanatic arrived.

Chris Landgraf drove 80 miles from Inverness specifically to visit Robert’s. She browsed the accessories aisle between the porcelain Dickens Christmas and the Harry Potter village displays, feeling peaceful while her husband held their granddaughter.

“I have the Christmas disease,” she explained. “You know, out there it’s the real world. In here it feels like everyone is happy. Like everyone gets along.”

She bought a tiny candy cane fence, a tiny blow-mold Santa and little figurines of two kids building a snowman, which she’ll add to her own tiny Christmas village at home.

A cashier wrapped them up with two boxes of glass ornaments for her tree and some lighted poinsettias. Landgraf left smiling.