by Susan Seyfarth
For example, in my fourth grade school photo, I'm wearing a roach clip in my hair. Remember those? Mine had purple feathers. In my defense, I didn't know what a roach clip actually was, & I'm assuming my mom didn't either. Regardless, it foreshadowed a certain lack of taste that later manifested itself in some spectacular fashion missteps including but not limited to:
Adorning the lenses of my enormous 80s glasses with stickers (unicorns, teddy bears, my initials, etc.)
Perming my super straight, if-you-like-teflon-you'll-love-this hair until I looked like the woman from Dilbert.
It was one of those friends who informed me that tinsel was tacky. You heard me. Tinsel. As in Christmas tree tinsel. Apparently, the well-bred Christmas tree wears only lights (not the blinking kind, either), ornaments, & an heirloom tree topper. Garland is acceptable, as are strings of popcorn & cranberries. Anything more & you risk comparisons to Vegas.
I thought about my family gleefully lobbing handfuls of tinsel at the tree every year. I thought about the enormous kick we'd gotten out of the tag of tinsel we once found hanging out of the cat's butt. (She was fine, fyi. But she still ate anything.) I thought about our star-shaped tree topper that glowed electric red when you plugged it in. Then I thought about how desperately I, as a college freshman, was looking forward to being home again, secure in the loving arms of my family & our exuberant embrace of holiday tackiness.
I didn't always know I had a tacky streak. Looking back, though, there were signs.
For example, in my fourth grade school photo, I'm wearing a roach clip in my hair. Remember those? Mine had purple feathers. In my defense, I didn't know what a roach clip actually was, & I'm assuming my mom didn't either. Regardless, it foreshadowed a certain lack of taste that later manifested itself in some spectacular fashion missteps including but not limited to:
Adorning the lenses of my enormous 80s glasses with stickers (unicorns, teddy bears, my initials, etc.)
Perming my super straight, if-you-like-teflon-you'll-love-this hair until I looked like the woman from Dilbert.
Allowing my mother to convince me that I wasn't too old for Grrrranimals when all my friends were wearing Gloria Vanderbilt.
But I was blissfully unaware of my tackiness. Then one day, my high school soccer team bused down to the old money suburb of Grosse Pointe to get our butts whipped by a bunch of girls with cutie little ribbons on their shiny, perm-free ponytails & no make up on their well-bred faces. As they dismantled our defense without breaking a sweat, I looked around at my team's enormous bangs & blue mascara & had a minor epiphany: we were tacky. I was embarrassed for us & not just because we were rotten soccer players. We were gum-chomping, country-fried Britneys & the rich girls felt sorry for us. It was excruciating.So that was it for me & the perms. I adopted a less-is-more approach to make up. I stopped answering to Susie. I built a wardrobe around black, white & (for variety) beige. I went to college in a liberal town far from my country roots. I made friends with people who didn't know about the Grrranimals.
It was one of those friends who informed me that tinsel was tacky. You heard me. Tinsel. As in Christmas tree tinsel. Apparently, the well-bred Christmas tree wears only lights (not the blinking kind, either), ornaments, & an heirloom tree topper. Garland is acceptable, as are strings of popcorn & cranberries. Anything more & you risk comparisons to Vegas.
I thought about my family gleefully lobbing handfuls of tinsel at the tree every year. I thought about the enormous kick we'd gotten out of the tag of tinsel we once found hanging out of the cat's butt. (She was fine, fyi. But she still ate anything.) I thought about our star-shaped tree topper that glowed electric red when you plugged it in. Then I thought about how desperately I, as a college freshman, was looking forward to being home again, secure in the loving arms of my family & our exuberant embrace of holiday tackiness. I decided then & there that tacky is just a word we use to denigrate people who aren't afraid to look foolish. To tear down people who are willing to be exactly who they are, & to love what they love, from big bangs to romance novels to tinsel, without apology.
So in the spirit of owning my tacky streak, I'm going to share with you my family's recipe for Holiday Torte, which consists exclusively of graham crackers, applesauce, jell-o, & cool whip. Enjoy!
Holiday Torte:
1 box graham crackers
1 jar applesauce1 pkg red Jell-O
1 pkg green Jell-O1 tub Cool Whip
Mix the red Jell-O powder with 1 cup applesauce
Mix the green Jell-O powder with 1 cup applesauceTake two full sheets of graham cracker, laid side by side to form a square, & smear with red applesauce.
Top with two more sheets of graham cracker (placed with the middle seam running perpendicular to the first layer, lest you create a disastrous fault line along which your torte could rent itself asunder), top with layer of green applesauce.
Repeat until you have a reached desired height or run out of colored applesauce.
Frost with cool whip, then refrigerate overnight.
It turns out to be a lovely red-and-green striped cake. Moist, delicious, easy. Mmmmm....
Now it's your turn! What's your tackiest holiday tradition? Come on, don't be shy. I told you about the Grrrranimals, didn't I? Pony up something really good & you could win a Border's gift card!
