aving grown up on a Christmas tree farm, it was a little awkward buying a reusable model ten years ago. Needless to say, I got over the weirdness and picked up this six-footer, along with the most stunning Martha Stewart collection of ribbon, glass bulbs, and various glittery, icy ephemera that 2001 had to offer. 
Obviously, times and tastes change, and I reached the point that wrapping the tree in that wired ribbon conjured images of a big-haired belle draped in a taffeta prom gown. I needed a change, and this year, with half the white lights having burned out from last year, I decided to change things up with the lights.
I picked up some C9 multi-colored outdoor lights, which are growing on me. I went to Swank Interiors to find a tree topper, which I found, along with 2 dozen exquisite orange glass bulbs from 1967. Check and Mate.
But this transition year's biggest catch might have come from a coworker, to whom I was lamenting the difficulties of migrating to a new tree aesthetic. She casually mentioned that she had a couple boxes of old ornaments her husband inherited, all from the 60s, and would rather give them to me than to bother with eBay. Would I be interested? Yahtzee :)
All said, I'm happy with the tree this year, even though we're in that phase where it feels like it'll take forever for our bangs to grow out. Why did we think bangs were a good idea in the first place? Anyway, the tree is up and it doesn't look like someone's prom date. It's a Christmas miracle.
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