Marilyn Monroe and Christmas: Intimacy, Affection, and Memory
Now that Christmas is approaching, it feels fitting to remember a tender and somewhat surprising detail: despite being one of the most photographed people of the twentieth century, Marilyn Monroe left behind relatively few images directly connected to Christmas. Considering the sheer volume of photographs taken of her, the scarcity of explicitly Christmas-related images is striking. And yet, Marilyn genuinely loved Christmas. She celebrated it every year, cherished it deeply, and experienced it as a time for giving and receiving affection—through gifts, letters, phone calls, shared meals, and small domestic rituals that often moved her profoundly. At this time of year, more than perfect holiday imagery, what matters is the intimate trace she left behind: a woman who consistently sought warmth and human connection each December.
Among the photographs that do exist, two main groups stand out and capture this wintery, intimate spirit. The first are the famous snow photographs taken by André de Diénes in the mid-1940s around Mount Hood. These early images show a young Marilyn—still in the process of forming her public identity—posing and playing in the snow. They are, in a sense, the first time her image becomes associated with an unmistakably wintry, almost Christmas-like landscape. The second group consists of the intimate sessions and candid photographs preserved in the archive of Milton H. Greene. Taken at the Greene family home in Connecticut, these images show Marilyn indoors, near a Christmas tree, opening gifts, or simply sharing in the warmth of a domestic setting. These photographs, far removed from studio artifice, are the most authentic visual record we have of Marilyn actually celebrating Christmas in a private, familial environment.
Marilyn’s relationship with Christmas began early and evolved over time. In her youth, before her marriage to James Dougherty, Christmas already represented a longing for belonging and companionship. Letters from the early 1940s reveal her hoping he would be home for the holidays, writing that Christmas would not feel right without him. Even then, Christmas was never just decoration or routine for Marilyn—it carried emotional weight, expectation, and vulnerability.
That emotional approach extended into her adult life, especially in the way she gave gifts. Several episodes illustrate this generosity with striking clarity. In 1948, when she was financially struggling, Marilyn bought a $500 watch on an installment plan as a Christmas gift for Fred Karger, a debt that took her two years to pay off. In 1950, while traveling with Natasha Lytess, she spent nearly all her available cash on an ivory cameo brooch framed in gold simply because she had noticed Natasha admiring it. These gestures reveal something essential: for Marilyn, Christmas giving was an act of affection, not comfort or excess, and she was willing to sacrifice financially to express care
The most emotionally resonant Christmas moments of her life are inseparable from Joe DiMaggio. In 1952, after attending the studio’s annual Christmas party, Marilyn returned alone to her room at the Beverly Hills Hotel. There she found a miniature Christmas tree on the table, a handwritten sign reading “Merry Christmas, Marilyn,” and Joe sitting quietly in a chair. She later said it was the first time in her life anyone had ever given her a Christmas tree, and that she cried from happiness. The simplicity of the gesture—a tree, a note, a silent presence—captures the depth of Marilyn’s longing for home and emotional safety more clearly than any photograph could.
In later years, Christmas continued to be a moment when Marilyn sought closeness and expressed care for others. In 1960 she spent Christmas quietly with the Strasbergs, listening to music and drinking champagne, visibly tired but still attentive to those she loved. She made a point of sending Christmas gifts and handwritten notes to the children of her former husbands, expressing pride and affection toward them. That same Christmas night, she received an unexpected delivery of poinsettias. When she learned they were from Joe DiMaggio, she called him, and he came over. Despite her exhaustion and depression, she was glad he did. The evening was modest, intimate, and human—far from the public spectacle that so often surrounded her life.
Her final Christmas, in 1961, was not entirely bleak. Once again, DiMaggio played a stabilizing role. Marilyn bought a small Christmas tree and decorated her apartment, trying to make it cheerful. She and Joe spent Christmas Day at the Greenson family home, where DiMaggio—much to Marilyn’s delight—became the center of attention. On New Year’s Eve, after midnight, friends stopped by, champagne was poured, and chestnuts were roasted by the fire. Those who witnessed the scene recalled DiMaggio as devoted and protective, and Marilyn as quietly pleased, performing small domestic gestures for him like an old married couple. Long after the holidays ended and Joe had left, Marilyn kept the lights on the tiny Christmas tree, leaving it there until the decorations sagged and the tree itself died—a fragile but powerful image of her emotional attachment to the season.
In the end, Christmas in Marilyn Monroe’s life was a blend of public image and deeply private meaning. There were promotional photographs and seasonal imagery, but what truly defines her relationship with Christmas are the stories: the young woman waiting for her husband to come home, the struggling actress buying gifts she could barely afford, the star who cried over a tiny Christmas tree, the woman who remembered children and friends with handwritten notes. These moments reveal a consistent pattern: for Marilyn, Christmas was about creating warmth where it did not always exist, about holding on to small lights even when everything else felt fragile.
To close, it is worth remembering that Christmas was, for Marilyn, a season of genuine emotional investment. She gave and received affection in ways that mattered deeply to her, often quietly and away from the spotlight. If this reflection serves any purpose during the holidays, let it be a reminder that behind the icon was a woman who truly loved Christmas for its simplest meanings. From here, I wish you all a very Merry Christmas—and wherever Marilyn may be, it feels safe to say that someone who loved the season so deeply would be wishing you the same, with a soft smile and a little tree still glowing in the corner. 🎄
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