Cristina Pedroche Every December 31 she seems to be closer to being canonized as the Holy Protector of the Chimes. This time he did his thing again in a Puerta del Sol transformed, not into a scene of celebration, but into the altar of his own cult. This year, as if the expectation about the dress was not enough, the presenter added another element to the equation: her second pregnancy, announced with a drama that would have made any soap opera scriptwriter envy.
Just 24 hours before the big night, the news was confirmed after an enigmatic video shared on April Fool’s Day. The original marketing campaign consisted again (it already happened) of a positive pregnancy test that left its followers in suspense. Of course, this revelation was not a simple detail in her speech, but the common thread of a night marked by what she herself described as “a catharsis”, a term that, on her lips, sounds more like a reality show than to life experience.
From the most famous balcony in the country, Pedroche dedicated his words to “all the children on the planet”, who are now calmer thanks to their grotesque fairy godmother. The phrase could well have been part of a UNICEF brochure. With a broken voice, in what seemed more like a rehearsal for the Goyas than a New Year’s Eve message, he proclaimed that “the innocence of children should remain intact and no one should destroy it.” Too bad the magic of her speech was overshadowed by her outfit, a creation of Josie’s that she explained was a tribute to motherhood. But what was supposed to be a symbolic tribute ended up being a spectacle so overloaded that it seemed more appropriate for a carnival parade than for saying goodbye to the year. Let’s not forget that behind all this symbolism and grandiloquence there is money and audience war: Pedroche’s cache, Josie’s and Atresmedia’s (as in all other channels, although here the pretentious tone of saviors of the world is not very pleasant).
The dress in question, hidden until the last second with the secrecy of a spy thriller, As is tradition, it turned out to be a display of baroqueism in which the subtlety was conspicuous by its absence. Pedroche had promised that “neither her mother nor her husband knew what it was about” and honestly, no one could have guessed it. The “spectacularity” of the piece, as she herself defined it, lay in an excess of tulle, glitter and symbolic references that would have made Lady Gaga covered in fillets feel minimalist in comparison.
Of course, the slogan was clear: “I am living Christmas with more enthusiasm and more magic than ever.” What’s less than some magic, because turning that outfit into a symbol of motherhood required more than a little stardust. Perhaps Josie intended to convey the idea of fertility, but the result was more reminiscent of an overloaded Christmas tree than the elegance that such a night should demand. For elegance, better Blanca Romero, who surely did not have an audience.
The speech, of course, did not skimp on clichés, worthy of a greeting card but in the mouth of this woman as intense as bitumen. “2024 has been a year of change, of living with many fears and of resurgence,” he confessed, as if the rest of the world had not also gone through twelve months of uncertainties and emotional pandemics. But the best came with his reflection on the rights of children: “They have the right to live in peace, free from abuse or exploitation.” All of this, delivered with a solemnity that would have been moving if it were not wrapped in so much theatrics. And, as usual, there was space to mention her husband, chef David Muñoz. In a nod to artificial intelligence, Pedroche stated that “AI will never know how to cook like my husband.” An observation as profound as it was irrelevant to the occasion, but which served, at least, to remind the public who the true artist of the family is.
Of course, Pedroche did not miss the opportunity to talk about how special this edition has been. “I want to ring the bell as if it were the last time, because you never know…” he said, hinting at a drama worthy of an early goodbye. But, with eleven years of tradition, it seems unlikely that she will give up her position as queen of grapes, a title she has earned by provoking the same mix of fascination and bewilderment year after year.
His companion, Alberto Chicote, seems to have already assumed his role as a resigned squire, dedicated to the task of maintaining the balance between pomp and spectacle. At her side, Pedroche moved with the confidence of someone who knows that all the spotlights—literally and metaphorically—are on her.
Cristina Pedroche once again demonstrated that there is no New Year’s Eve without its share of excessive spectacle. Her dress, far from the elegance desirable on a night like this, was a reminder that extravagance has a limit. But that is the game of the audience, the need to shock, to make people talk about it, of provocation and excess. And while she launched her message of hope to the world, the spectators, grapes in hand, wondered if we will ever see chimes again without so much artifice. But of course, that would be asking Pedroche to stop being Pedroche, and there lies the true magic of this night: in his ability to turn the grotesque into tradition.
The rest is ephemeral, like Josie’s dress that combines innovation and tradition, the roll of haute millinery techniques, the cotton crochet design and 8,500 crystals created from drops of crystallized breast milk that are a symbol of protection ( a work by the jeweler Belén Mazas, from the firm Morir de Amor).
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