The Charm of a Traditional Christmas Tree

There’s a certain kind of Christmas tree you see in old family photos—the kind with big colored bulbs, tinsel everywhere, and a slightly crooked angel on top, and you can almost feel the room around it. The wood-paneled living room, the worn-in granny square afghan on the couch, the radio humming in the background. The tree isn’t coordinated or themed or styled. It’s just…loved.

That’s the kind of tree I can’t stop thinking about this year.

A Simpler Kind Of Christmas

In the 1940s, Christmas trees looked wonderfully real. Families used what they had, year after year. Lights were those classic multicolor bulbs—red, green, blue, amber. Not the tiny white twinkle or fairy lights we use today, but big, warm C9-style bulbs that glowed and maybe even buzzed a little, haha. They didn’t make the tree sparkle in any way, shape, or form, but they made the whole room feel cozy and alive.

All The Handmade Touches

Then came the garland. No deco mesh, no wired velvet bows, no designer ribbon. It was hand-strung popcorn and cranberries. Kids sitting around with a needle and thread, making something you couldn’t just buy (although nowadays you sure can—see below). Those strands went around the tree in loose swoops, not perfectly measured or even. In fact, it wasn’t about symmetry at all. It was about “we did this together.” (How do we get back to life like this?)

The ornaments were simple and bold—shiny red balls, deep green glass, gold, silver, sometimes little clip-on birds or icicles. You’d see ornaments with paint that had worn off a little, or a dented spot where someone dropped it in ’43 and it survived anyway. Nothing matched, and that was the whole point. Every ornament had a story—“that one was Grandma’s favorite,” “that one came from the five-and-dime downtown,” “that one used to have glitter before the dog licked it off.”

And then…tinsel. Actual tinsel, and lots and lots of it—the kind you lay on one strand at a time, not the thick, fluffy garland type. Yep, people actually did that. They sat there and placed it, patiently, so the whole tree shimmered in the lamplight. By the end it looked almost icy, but also still warm and glowy somehow.

Even the tree topper mattered. Most trees had either an angel (soft face, little robe, sometimes handmade) or a glowing plastic star. And whichever one your family used basically became law. You didn’t change it, ever. It came out of the box every December like, “Well obviously this goes on top.”

Why This Kind Of Tree Still Speaks To Us

What I love most is that those trees weren’t trying to be impressive. They were trying to be comforting. That was the goal, to make the house feel safe and festive and a little bit hopeful. This was a post-war era. People were rebuilding their lives, their homes, their sense of normal. The tree was part of that. It was color and light and ritual right in the living room.

And honestly? That still feels relevant (and important, now more than ever).

I think a lot of us are craving that version of Christmas (you know I am)—slower, handmade, sentimental, and of course, not so perfect. A tree that looks collected over time instead of “purchased all on one Saturday.” A tree with color. A tree with personality. A tree that means something.

So that’s where we’re doing in this new series—how to build that kind of a look, step by step. The lights, the garland, the tinsel. The ornaments in red, green, gold. The topper that’s non negotiable. All of it.

We’re decorating like it’s 1947, and it’s going to be so wonderful.