Remarkable things are unfolding. There is chatter about a new form of psychosis—egg psychosis. People are stockpiling eggs just before a looming apocalypse. They sweep eggs off shelves even as they lose consciousness, and prices climb. After the rush, the cost remains high.
If, somewhere, omelette ingredients and Olivier were tossed away for the same price, mass frenzy would follow. In Belgorod, lines for 70-ruble eggs stretched from five in the morning for kilometers. Each person could receive a maximum of six dozen. Whole families showed up: grandparents, grandchildren, and even the pets. This is how traditional New Year preparations begin in Russia.
Preparing for the New Year feels like either a time-honored Russian pastime or a national, almost sacred test. Perhaps it is a pagan initiation, a ritual without which the next year cannot begin.
Holiday preparations carry more weight than the days themselves. Since this is not just about a holiday, the ticking of the clock and the Earth’s orbit around the Sun become intertwined with the present and the future. December 31 becomes a study in rebellion and humility, a quiet pause that dares to stretch toward a bright tomorrow. It captures a classic Russian paradox, a stubborn duality that can feel like a personal rite of passage.
Two driving reasons shape the November rush: the awareness of living only once, and the belief that January will bring higher prices, shortages, or some other shock. So purchases extend beyond the holiday to cover the next 365 or 366 days. In practical terms, that means stocking up on staples like peas, potatoes, eggs, and champagne to last well into the new year—and perhaps into life itself, even for two households.
One reader describes following a blog written by a careful and informed woman who began preparing for the New Year in November. She not only buys food but also pays December utilities in advance to avoid January and February bills. The idea is to stay one step ahead of any unknown lines in the future, a precaution supported by the sense that heat and canned goods might be needed for months. It seems reasonable to assume a prudent household might own a gas stove for such planning.
And this is not an isolated example. By October and November, the internet fills with New Year life tips, recipes, home decorating ideas, and a flood of promotions. People who manage money with care—whether through elaborate piggy banks or the envelope method—already set aside funds in September, creating a separate account for New Year spending. They are building plans and, in some cases, even arranging payments in installments.
Those who live modestly and shoulder hard work all year long often redouble their efforts in November, tightening belts further so there can be relief and celebration when the holidays arrive.
The surprise is not the trend but the scale. A survey by Yandex Market of 1,500 buyers found 34% begin saving for the New Year in the fall. Another 29% admit they want to save but lack a clear method, lacking both surplus funds and discipline. Still others plan their shopping months ahead, arranging discounts and promotions in advance. About 47% buy gifts two to four weeks before the holidays.
Regarding overall spending, Russians anticipate a New Year outlay around 29,000 rubles on average. While modest by some standards, it is meaningful given the typical income after taxes. The figure sits at about half the official average salary after deductions and 65% of the median take-home pay.
In the end, the impulse to save becomes a longstanding habit that repeats each year. In 2019, one in three people mentioned the need to save for the New Year, and a 2022 survey found 55% ready to set aside funds. Yet there are variations: some studies showed a wide divergence in what people expected to spend on a single table, reflecting shifts in prices and personal circumstances.
Statistics can be deceiving. Values depend on who is asked, how questions are framed, and the context of the moment. Still, the strong pre‑New Year excitement has felt tangible since late autumn, shaping attitudes across the country.
Marketing campaigns certainly play a role. They push Christmas trees into shopping centers and open holiday markets on every corner. The pressure to buy can feel irresistible, and many wonder how to resist the lure of seasonal deals.
But there is another view. If advertisements for festive decor and gifts vanished today, the urge to celebrate might still rise, driven by the desire to counter quiet and impending uncertainty. In such times, the appeal of a bright, abundant celebration becomes even more compelling for many.
Where did the egg hysteria originate? It is traced to price increases and the resulting sense that everything is more expensive. Inflation presses on, regardless of defences. The idea of home egg storages surfaces—though these perishable reserves can spoil if left too long. People continue to stockpile, as Easter reminders of supply challenges have shown in the past. Yet the practice persists.
Possibly, the intention behind a Happy New Year remains intact. Some meals will be enjoyed, gifts exchanged, fireworks will light the sky, and trips made possible by prior planning may proceed. The more someone rushes to prepare, the greater the risk of disappointment; reality does not always bend to high expectations.
Still, it is possible to find joy in the season even amid difficulties. This period calls for resilience and quiet dignity. Trust in the world may be tested, but a bottle of champagne, a bowl of Olivier, and a few tangerines can still feel affordable. The holidays can be a healing moment for the wallet and the spirit, and life continues well after New Year’s Eve. Even the smallest things can endure and bring comfort.