Festive, Not Fussy

Christmas has always held a sort of magic for me - not just the sparkle of lights or the smell of pine, but that deeper, nostalgic pull that comes with digging out old decorations steeped in memory. It’s a time for both treasured traditions and the joy of making new ones, a delicate balance between the familiar and the fresh. I think that’s what gives the season its particular charm: the way it allows us to layer our lives with the comfort of continuity and the relaxed risk of reinvention.

Every December, I find myself rummaging through the same well-worn boxes, rediscovering baubles and ribbons that have become like old friends. But I never use them in quite the same way twice. One year, a particular ornament might take pride of place on the tree; the next, it finds a new life hanging from a picture frame or tucked into a garland. I love that flexibility - the idea that festive décor doesn’t have to be prescriptive or perfect. It should evolve, just as we do.

My most cherished decorations aren’t necessarily the most glamorous, but they carry the most love - surely the most important ingredient! Fifteen years ago, I made colourful paper chains from the offcuts from homemade Christmas cards. Stored carefully each year they are still going strong - crumpled and faded a little in places, but all the more beautiful for it. Draped across my hallway, they set the tone immediately: a joyful, unapologetically bright welcome that reminds me what Christmas is really about - creativity, care, and a sense of playfulness.

I’ve never been one for a “coordinated” Christmas. ’Tis is not the season for restraint! Instead, I like to lean into joyful chaos. I’ll re-thread old baubles with new ribbons to tie them into a different colour story, or tie simple striped ribbons directly to the branches for an easy splash of colour. It’s such a small gesture, but it instantly brightens the tree, making it feel personal and warm rather than styled and staged.

There’s something wonderfully democratic about this approach - it doesn’t rely on expensive decorations or a perfectly matched palette. In fact, I think the best festive homes are the ones where personality takes precedence over perfection. A tree that tells a story is far more beautiful than one that looks like it was lifted straight from a shop window. And if you can repurpose, reuse, or reimagine what you already have, all the better. Sustainability, after all, is part of the pleasure.

This philosophy extends to the table as well. When I host a festive meal, I love the look of mismatched tables pushed together, covered with plain white cloths that act as a blank canvas. To create a sense of cohesion - and a bit of individuality - I’ll make a bold runner. Last year, I bought a length of dead-stock ticking fabric online and simply folded the edges under to fit the table width. No sewing required! It transformed the setup instantly, adding a cheerful, graphic stripe that hid a multitude of old stains (and, inevitably, the new ones that appeared before pudding was served).

To finish, I tie different colours of striped ribbon around my mum’s old candlesticks and my granny’s napkins. The candlesticks are dented and the napkins slightly frayed, but together they tell a story that no pristine new set could replicate. There’s something deeply comforting about using pieces that have been passed down - objects infused with memory and meaning. The linen may have softened over the years, but so has my attachment to perfection.

For me, this is what creates true festive feeling: that blend of nostalgia, creativity, and imperfection. A house dressed for Christmas shouldn’t feel like a showroom - it should feel alive, layered, and a little bit unruly. The kind of place where guests feel instantly at home, where every candle flicker and ribbon bow holds a whisper of stories past.

So, as you open your own boxes of decorations this year, resist the urge to curate too tightly. Let instinct and emotion guide your hand. Mix textures and colours with abandon. Use what you already have in new ways, or make something yourself. Don’t be afraid to let the old and the new sit side by side, that’s where the magic happens.

After all, Christmas is about the beauty of continuity, the warmth of shared history, and the small acts of creativity that bring it all to life. The season doesn’t ask us to start fresh, it invites us to reimagine what we already cherish. So, when I see those slightly crinkled paper chains draped across my hallway, I’m reminded that festive feeling isn’t something you buy or style - it’s something you make, year after year, with heart, hands, and memory.

Why not treat yourself to one (or a few) my limited edition scottish made bone china baubles ?

Watch Scotland’s Christmas Home of the Year, coming soon on BBC1 Scotland and iPlayer