I still haven’t set up my tree. Yes, I finally admitted it.
Returning from Thanksgiving weekend a few weeks ago, the number of windows already glowing with gigantic Christmas trees amazed me. Was I the only one who spent the day traveling up I-95 with a car loaded with leftovers and my somewhat grumpy family? I thought I had another week before transitioning into Merry Mode. I felt the initial twinges of my yearly Decoration Guilt — and quickly paused. This isn’t the year, I recalled. We’re not doing that tradition.
Decorating isn’t my forte. I excel in other holiday activities. Every December, I prepare large quantities of cookie dough to freeze, allowing us to bake fresh ones nightly. I maintain a running gift list on my phone, updating it year-round. But decorating? That’s where my skills fall short: My wreaths won’t stay up, my tree lights sag, and I’m perpetually weeks behind others.
Upon moving in with Harry — my then-boyfriend, now spouse — he proposed foregoing the tree altogether. Born in Soviet-era Bulgaria, Harry was fine with Christmas but didn’t see the fuss about decor. “Wouldn’t it be less stressful without all that?” he asked. Yes, I replied. And if he ever brought up a tree-free Christmas again, I’d break the lease and head out. That day, we visited the tree lot, and I did my usual clumsy light-stringing. The following morning, I discovered that Harry had discreetly rearranged them, smoothing out the strands for perfect coverage.
“Thanks,” I muttered. Raised in a place without Santa, yet he outdid me at decorating.
Always sheepish about my decorating skills, guilt never hit until I became a parent. Once Margot, our daughter, arrived, holiday events became more than fun; they were about memory-making and filling her childhood with magic. When we went tree shopping that year, I grabbed the largest fir that could fit in our apartment. I didn’t even inquire about prices before it was wrapped up. And that’s how I unintentionally spent $400 on a Christmas tree. Plus tip. For a newborn.
I’d like to say that moment snapped some sense into me, but, alas, the drive to merry-make just intensified. I learned to check prices, though the urge to buy or create twinkly things annually remained. Last year, I stayed up past 1 a.m. on a weeknight, ensuring the orange slices slow-drying in the oven were ready for a garland. Ultimately, only three slices weren’t burnt or sticky or both. I’m not Marmee, just a mom!
Comforted by my other strengths, I still felt guilty that all we had for decoration was a modest (yet affordable) tree, minus a garland. Meanwhile, Harry, despite not being fervent about decor, excelled at providing holiday magic. On Christmas Eve, he spontaneously crafted a mailing label from the North Pole, turning Margot’s present into a package from Santa.
Can you believe him? By hand!
So, this year’s fall approached, and I prepared for another guilt-ridden decoration season. I’d nearly accepted feeling like a seasonal failure when, serendipitously, an Instagram reel jolted me out of it.
While browsing one day, I encountered Chelsea Fagan’s reel — a writer known for her financial literacy content — on the distinction between festivity and decoration. I was taken aback; it suddenly seemed so clear. Like an optical-illusion image where tilting your head turns a rabbit into a duck.
Wreaths aren’t festivity. Wrapping paper isn’t celebration. Twinkle lights are beautiful, but they’re not what make the memories. People create those — in countless ways, for myriad reasons. For some, Christmas means family and unity, for others it’s about faith and worship, and for many, it’s another’s celebration.
Going forward, instead of dwelling on decoration guilt, I’ll focus on the magic we create together. I believe my daughter will cherish making messy cookies with me on school nights. She’ll recall us three twirling to cheesy Christmas pop songs and watching movies cuddled on the couch. What won’t she remember? That $400 tree. But the story? That, we’ll all remember.
To clarify, I’m not dismissing decorating — just the guilt. Decorating is festive if approached with a festive spirit. One cherished memory is decorating Margot’s second Christmas tree. She’d just turned one, attempting to climb everything — eager to “assist.” It was chaotic, hilarious, messy, and each holiday season, I remember it fondly. Yet it’s her on the step-ladder, gazing back at me, with her curls and round cheeks, that define the memory. Yes, the lights are pretty. But they aren’t the magical element.
P.S. Ten holiday rituals and the simplest, funniest game to play pre-dinner.
**Exploring the Idea of ‘Decoration Guilt’**
In recent years, “decoration guilt” has come to light in interior design and consumer psychology, indicating a rising awareness of the emotions and ethical complexities tied to home decoration. This concept describes the feelings of guilt or unease some experience in decorating their spaces, often prompted by environmental, financial, or social factors.
**Comprehending Decoration Guilt**
Decoration guilt may appear in different ways, often triggered by societal aesthetic and lifestyle standards. In an era where platforms such as Instagram and Pinterest showcase perfectly styled homes, people might feel compelled to emulate these ideals, creating an inadequacy or guilty feeling when their spaces don’t match. This pressure can lead to spontaneous purchases, worsening guilt, especially when financial limitations exist.
**Environmental Concerns**
A major dimension of decoration guilt involves the environmental consequence of consumer choices. The increased focus on sustainability in recent times encourages questioning the ecological impact of decorating habits. Producing, transporting, and disposing of home decor items contribute to emissions, sparking guilt among eco-minded consumers. This guilt heightens when individuals replace items frequently to match trends instead of choosing timeless, sustainable options.
**Financial Concerns**
Financial factors significantly contribute to decoration guilt. The desire for a beautiful home can lead to overspending, causing financial strain and subsequent guilt. This is especially seen during festive periods or relocation, as individuals might feel pressured to invest in decor aligning with societal expectations, risking financial wellness.
**Social and Cultural Influences**
Cultural and social influences further instigate decoration guilt. In many cultures, the home symbolizes identity and status, creating pressure to uphold certain decor standards. This conflict between personal preferences and societal demands can incite guilt when individuals feel they are falling short.
**Alleviating Decoration Guilt**
Addressing decoration guilt involves a conscious effort to reconcile decorating practices with personal values and priorities. Adopting minimalism and preferring quality over quantity can reduce the environmental and financial toll of decorating. Choosing second-hand or upcycled goods can ease sustainability-related guilt.
Mindful consumption is crucial for alleviating decoration guilt. By shaping spaces to reflect personal tastes and values rather than society’s ideals, individuals can cultivate contentment and authenticity. Setting practical budgets and prioritizing purchases based on necessity and durability can reduce financial guilt.
**Conclusion**
Decoration guilt is a multifaceted concept intersecting personal, social, and environmental aspects in home decorating. By embracing awareness and mindful consumption, people can navigate decoration guilt’s complexities, creating spaces that are not only beautiful but in tune with their values and priorities. Ultimately, the aim is to transform the home into a sanctuary promoting well-being and authenticity, free from guilt and societal pressure.
