I regret to inform you that I have been seduced by the siren call of the seasonal trend, and I want a pink Christmas tree.
I did not realize this was the year’s hottest holiday decorating trend, nor do I typically take my aesthetic cues from the Kardashians. I find what little I’ve seen of their homes to be almost glacially cold, whereas my preferred interior looks more like the Celestial Seasonings Sleepytime tea packaging. And while I haven’t committed to a strict Christmas vibe—I’m neither Kanye West nor Martha Stewart—I would generally characterize my schtick as more ersatz mountain cabin by way of T.J. Maxx, with a strong thread of slightly sinister Victoriana. A pink tree doesn’t really fit! These trees aren’t even exactly straightforward midcentury retro, replicating those aluminum numbers from the 1950s. They’re less tinsel conifer than they are Pepto-Bismol.
And yet, I want the tree.
Nor am I alone: searches for pink trees are up, according to House Beautiful, citing numbers from Wayfair. House Beautiful also covered the trend in 2017, based on search data and theorizing it may have been due to an Ebay promotion, suggesting that once again the relentless algorithms of hyper accelerated capitalism have crept inside my brain and rearranged the furniture of my desires. You can’t make me buy the internet luggage, and I have miraculously resisted the velvety Meghan Markle slippers, but even knowing the mechanisms by which I have come to desire the pink tree, I am truly, truly struggling not to spend a hundred American bucks on a 4-foot pink tree with lights preinstalled. That matte finish!!! If any room in my home were whiter, or if I lived somewhere with a giant picture window that opened onto a landscape of relentless snow and ice, I would probably just give in and order it.
Perhaps I will purchase a $3 mini pink Christmas tree from Target, the subject of yet another article on the trend from House Beautiful, which is clearly in the flocked pocket of Big Pink Tree. Move over, I’m climbing in, too.