James Lileks weighed in yesterday on the relative merits of colored Christmas lights vs. white Christmas lights. Prior to coining (or at least, raising to my attention) the word “griswalded” (From the verb “to griswald”. To knot in an incredibly complicated and well-nigh inextricable fashion. As in: “I put the lights away last year and somehow they got all griswalded in the meantime”), he quoted the late Michael Kelley on the issue thusly:
White lights are high-class; colored lights are somewhat less so. White lights make the statement that one is a refined sort who appreciates that less is more and who celebrates Christmas (and life in general) in such a fashion that one would not be absolutely mortified if Martha Stewart dropped by unexpectedly for tea. Colored lights make the statement that one is the sort of person who believes that Christmas is not Christmas without an electric sled and reindeer on the lawn, an electric Santa on the roof, an electric Frosty by the front gate and an electric Very Special Person in a manger on the porch.
I was raised with colored lights on the tree and a mixture of colors and whites on the exterior spaces of our house. Indoors: flashing lights were okay, at least on the tree. It was fun to put Christmas carols on the record player, turn out the lights and watch the silhouetted fir branches and ornaments cast their shadows on the ceiling. In college, my roommate and I made a rather elaborate set of Christmas lights with about a hundred different flashing patterns a permanent fixture in our dorm room.
However, if you were to ask me today whether I favored colored or white lights, I’m not sure whether I could in fact tell you. White lights do indeed whisper “sophistication” to me, as well as “stuffy” and perhaps “snobby”, while the riot of colors offered by a string of colored lights just exude the joy of the spirit.
I guess my only hard and fast rule at this point is: no flashing lights on the exterior of the house. That’s just right out.
