I’m not sure if my childhood Christmas trees were the most or least progressive plants to ever exist.

On the one hand, my family shirked any religious iconography. At the same time, our trees were a glorified tribute to consumerism with ornaments of pop culture icons like Captain Kirk from “Star Trek” and a glitzy Post Malone in a Santa hat hanging from the branches. 

So this year, when I decided to get myself a Christmas tree for the first time in college, I decided to strike a compromise to recapture the nostalgia those pine needles bring without also promoting pure consumerism. I’d deck my tree out in the maximalist tastelessness of my youth, but to stick it to the man, I’d do it on a $100 budget and only acquire my tree locally and my decor secondhand. 

On the Sunday at the end of Thanksgiving break, my roommate and I trudged through the cold to Unique Thrift Store in Falls Church, Virginia, a 20-minute Metro ride followed by a 20-minute walk, to hunt for ornaments and decorations. My hope was that by buying my ornaments secondhand, I’d perform the most symbolic and useless act of rebellion against the overconsumption of goods that comes with the holidays.

The thrift store seemed to have no end as the aisles stretched further and further back into the warehouse. Children ran all around, grabbing random gifts they wanted, parents reluctantly corralling them as they seemed to curse whoever thought letting kids out of school for a Thanksgiving break was a good idea.

I lucked out, since the table with Christmas decor was right at the front of the store. I became instantly enamored with two of the oddest ornaments I could find: a circus clown with a demonic look encapsulated in a glass bell, and an ornament whose box says it is a “Celebration of the New Millenium,” in which a bear poked its head out of a gaudy pop art “2000.” They were so bizarre, there was no world where I couldn’t get them.

A little embarrassed that my roommate, who had so far acquired a wreath and nice red lights to hang in our room, would see my purchases as totally ridiculous, I in shame also got four heart ornaments with different lines from the “12 Days of Christmas” carved into them. The four ornaments totaled $7, and along with $4 I spent on lights and little silver bells to put on the tree, I was right on budget.

The real win of my visit, though, was a strange, crystal ball-esque orb sitting atop a scarf, two stick arms and wide black shoes, with a cord sticking out the back. I was a bit mystified by the object. What was it? Why did it resemble something one would use to summon a demon? What happened when you plugged it in? The $8.95 price tag was no deterrent — I needed my questions answered.

When I got home and plugged the orb in, the results exceeded my wildest expectations. The front of the object lit up with a snowman face, who began ranting in a Brooklyn accent about getting bullied by “the kids” over his weight. After I pressed a button on his back, he launched into a very, very, very slow and long rendition of the New Year’s Eve classic “Auld Lang Syne.” Between the joyous singing and pure bizarre hilarity, I felt I had found the soulmate for my pro-oddness but anti-consumerist holiday extravaganza.

Next on my agenda was getting the tree. I settled on going to Gheens Trees, a Christmas tree farm located on the north end of Georgetown, since reviews for neighboring sellers said their prices all exceeded $100 or their trees had to be specially shipped in from West Virginia — constraints that would complicate my writing this story.

The problem was figuring out how to get to Gheens Trees. I don’t own a car, and there wasn’t an easily Metro-able way to get there. I considered biking, but I worried that Capital Bikeshare would push me out of the budget I imposed upon myself.

So, rationally, given that it was 20 degrees out, I decided to walk the hour to Gheens Trees. To get in the cheery holiday spirit while strolling all alone, I put on Ezra Klein’s solemn interview with former President Barack Obama’s Chief of Staff Rahm Emanuel.

After trudging uphill for an hour, I found the Christmas cheer I was hunting for. I spotted four massive, 30-foot tall pine trees mere steps away from where I stood. Blinded to anything else, I stormed ahead, convinced I had found the home of Gheens Trees.

When I got to the intersection, however, I gandered a look around, where I discovered that I had actually passed by the tree farm. Gheens Trees — neighbors to the “Good Guys Club,” which on its door thanked Washington City Paper readers for naming it the best strip club of 2023 — was a block behind me. The farm is about half a city block wide, with trees ranging from around three-and-a-half-feet to 15-feet tall.

I wandered through the trees, gawking at the $150-plus price point of some. As I double-checked Google reviews to make sure the neighboring Christmas tree farms really were more expensive, an overalls-wearing lumberjack came over to me and asked if I needed any help. I pleaded with him for cheaper trees, so he directed me to the far left of the farm, where trees that looked straight out of “A Charlie Brown Christmas” were lined up.

I picked out a four-and-a-half foot tree, with branches that protruded out enough to fill with ornaments. There weren’t any conspicuous gaps of green on the tree, and its pine needles were still fresh.

The salesman, whom I later learned from his Venmo handle was the son of the titular Gheen, told me I had chosen a nice tree — so nice that it would cost me $75. Realizing that this would push me out of my budget for the story, I scrambled, saying I thought $75 was a bit out of my price range. He looked at the tree again, glanced around at some other trees, and said that he was initially mistaken. We were really holding a $70 tree — still more expensive than you’d find at Whole Foods, but I was already giving Jeff Bezos enough of my money during the holidays, so I was happy to support a random local tree farmer instead. Plus, around $15 per foot was firmly within the price range I’d researched — which apparently has gone up due to inflation. Who knew?

I lifted my new best flora friend straight up only using my right arm, and immediately felt a sharp pain in my forearm. Somehow, despite the tree not being at all heavy or tall, I’d managed to pull a muscle just by lifting it up. In shame, I hauled it all the way home using only my left arm.

After hauling the tree home and arranging it in the corner of my room, I launched into decorating, hanging ornaments up with paper clips and wrapping lights all around the tree. To truly communicate the tree’s anti-consumerist intentions, I placed the copy of Marx’s “Capital” that I just finished as the first gift under the pines.