Each November, as the heat creeps back and calendars fill, something strange happens. Australia collectively braces for a shopping event that isn’t even a holiday.
Black Friday — a term borrowed from American retail lore — has quietly become a seasonal ritual. It’s marked on planners, discussed over coffee, and planned with precision. Yet, officially, it’s just another Friday.
So how did it gain the power of Christmas morning without the public holiday tag? Let’s unpack how commerce, culture, and a few clever marketers turned one chaotic day into a global phenomenon.
From Wall Street Panic to Shopping Chaos
Long before it meant shopping carts and discounts, Black Friday was actually a financial disaster. In 1869, two Wall Street financiers caused a gold market crash. Newspapers called it “Black Friday” — a day of economic ruin rather than retail euphoria.
Fast forward almost a century. In 1950s Philadelphia, police officers used the same term for a different kind of chaos. The day after Thanksgiving, crowds flooded into the city for early Christmas shopping and the Army–Navy football game. Streets clogged, tempers flared, and officers dreaded the shift.
They nicknamed it “Black Friday” — not out of joy, but sheer exhaustion. It was the city’s busiest, messiest retail day of the year.
Retailers hated the gloom it implied. Some tried rebranding it as “Big Friday,” but the name never stuck. Like all cultural phenomena, the label endured — even if its meaning evolved.
From Loss to Profit: Turning Red Ink into Black
By the 1980s, a clever narrative twist transformed “Black Friday” into something far more marketable. Retailers began claiming it was the day stores went “into the black” — turning a profit after months “in the red.”
It wasn’t historically accurate, but it was catchy. Suddenly, “Black Friday” meant abundance, not chaos. It became the symbolic start of the holiday shopping season — a moment when stores, and shoppers, could feel victorious.
Soon, malls opened earlier, then at midnight, and eventually on Thanksgiving night. People lined up for televisions, sneakers, and handbags. Deals turned into events, and events turned into traditions.
The day had shifted from financial panic to collective ritual — an unofficial holiday powered by desire and discount psychology.
How It Crossed the Pacific
At first, Australians watched Black Friday from afar, amused by news footage of American shoppers sprinting through sliding doors. Then came online shopping.
By the mid-2010s, global retail giants introduced Australian customers to the thrill of Black Friday deals. With the rise of e-commerce, local brands followed. Now, it’s as much a fixture here as Boxing Day sales.
From Myer to The Iconic, JB Hi-Fi to Adore Beauty, everyone stakes a claim. The event stretches across the weekend, merging into Cyber Monday and beyond.
It’s no longer just about snagging discounts — it’s a cultural cue. Shoppers plan wish lists, watch for early drops, and compare prices days in advance. It’s the pre-Christmas pulse of retail.
For many, it’s the unofficial start of summer spending — a reason to refresh wardrobes, upgrade gadgets, or finally invest in that perfect office chair for home.
The Psychology of an Unofficial Holiday
Ask any psychologist and they’ll tell you: humans crave ritual. We mark time through events that bring rhythm to our lives. Black Friday does exactly that.
It sits neatly between spring and Christmas, offering a sense of anticipation and reward. It’s not a day off, but it feels celebratory — an excuse to treat yourself or tick off gift lists early.
There’s a social element too. Friends compare hauls, group chats light up with links, and workplaces buzz with talk of bargains. Even the question “Is Black Friday a holiday?” pops up each year — not because anyone truly believes it is, but because it certainly behaves like one.
Retailers understand this emotional pull. They market it like a festive event, complete with countdowns, teaser campaigns, and VIP previews.
When millions participate at once, an ordinary day transforms into something with collective significance — a hallmark of any true holiday, official or not.
The Comfort Economy: Shopping as Self-Care
Black Friday’s rise also mirrors how modern consumers find comfort in curation. Today’s shopping isn’t only about material need — it’s about upgrading daily life.
For example, home office setups have become deeply personal. After years of hybrid work, Australians are prioritising comfort and design over mere function. That’s why brands like Sidiz have carved a name for creating the perfect ergonomic chair.
Sales like Black Friday make these upgrades feel accessible. It’s the thrill of investing in something that enhances wellbeing, not just productivity.
Whether it’s a plush new ergonomic office chair or a statement lamp, shoppers see value in pieces that bring lasting comfort. The event taps into this lifestyle mindset — self-improvement through smart purchases.
That connection between spending and self-care gives Black Friday emotional depth. It’s not just shopping; it’s small-scale reinvention.
A Modern Tradition Built by Marketing
What truly made Black Friday a “holiday” was marketing genius. Retailers stopped selling products and started selling participation.
They created urgency — “limited stock,” “exclusive drop,” “today only.” They added theatre with flash sales and midnight countdowns. Suddenly, shopping wasn’t a chore; it was a shared adventure.
Australians, ever keen on a good deal, joined in. Online forums, social media hashtags, and influencer guides turned bargain hunting into communal sport.
And because the day aligns with the global retail calendar, there’s a feeling of connection. When Australians shop on Black Friday, they’re part of something global — a synchronised moment of consumption and celebration.
Like New Year’s fireworks or Melbourne Cup Day fashion, it’s now woven into the seasonal rhythm.
The Economics of Expectation
Retailers don’t just ride the Black Friday wave — they plan their entire year around it. Inventory cycles, ad campaigns, and staffing strategies hinge on the event’s timing.
Shoppers, too, have adapted. Many delay big purchases until November, knowing better deals are coming. That anticipation feeds the cycle.
Even in years of inflation or tighter budgets, Black Friday remains resilient. Consumers may buy fewer items, but they still show up — often digitally.
It’s the same pattern that cements public holidays: shared behaviour repeated annually until it becomes tradition.
That’s why the question “Is Black Friday a holiday?” feels more relevant than rhetorical. It’s not official, but it functions exactly like one.
Beyond the Bargains: A Cultural Marker
Black Friday’s endurance reveals more than marketing success. It shows how a society can adopt commercial traditions as cultural touchstones.
For some, it’s purely pragmatic — a chance to save before Christmas. For others, it’s nostalgic, recalling the buzz of first paydays and early online splurges.
Even those who don’t shop can’t escape it. Ads flood inboxes, news outlets track spending stats, and every brand suddenly shouts “Black Friday starts now.”
It’s everywhere — a commercial holiday that infiltrates conversation, economy, and emotion.
And while its critics call it consumerist chaos, its defenders see it as harmless excitement — a once-a-year indulgence in aspiration.
The Critics and Counter-Movements
Of course, not everyone celebrates Black Friday’s rise. Environmental groups question the waste it generates, urging Australians to choose quality over quantity.
Movements like “Buy Nothing Day” and “Green Friday” encourage shoppers to pause, reflect, or support sustainable brands instead. The pushback is growing, but it’s also reshaping how retailers behave.
Some brands now focus on longer-lasting products, extended warranties, or recycled materials — making the event less about frenzy and more about considered choice.
It’s a sign that the “holiday” is maturing, balancing excitement with awareness.
The Sidiz Example: Function Meets Celebration
Among those adapting are furniture and design brands tapping into conscious comfort. Take Sidiz, for instance — known globally for innovation in seating design.
Their approach to the office chair combines form and function, turning everyday work into something effortlessly elegant. On Black Friday, pieces like these symbolise more than discounts — they represent lifestyle upgrades.
Buying something beautiful and functional, like an ergonomic chair, feels symbolic — the merging of self-care, design, and celebration.
It’s the heart of what Black Friday has become: an occasion that blends joy and practicality in one modern ritual.
The Global Ripple Effect
Black Friday no longer belongs to America. It’s a global pulse that dictates shopping calendars from Sydney to Seoul.
Australian retailers have learned to localise it — offering early deals, click-and-collect convenience, and extended weekends.
Consumers love it because it feels participatory. There’s a shared energy — scrolling through deals, chatting about finds, and comparing prices.
When millions shop together, the result feels like a holiday even if the government never declared it one.
A Holiday of Our Own Making
So, is Black Friday a holiday? Technically, no. But culturally? Absolutely. It’s the perfect example of how collective enthusiasm can create celebration without permission.
It started as a logistical nightmare, transformed into a profit engine, and ended up as a shared global tradition.
Australians embraced it because it speaks to our rhythm — a moment of excitement before summer, when spending feels like celebration.