My lack of fashion sense was unfortunately pervasive, and even after I had emerged from the trials of teenagerhood as a confident individual, I never attempted to be fashionable. Whichever clothes suited the weather were matched together, and in particular, jewelry was now a forgotten pastime. I remembered spending hours in front of the mirror, seeing which necklaces and earrings and bracelets would satisfy my high standards. As I grew older, I regarded jewelry and decoration of any kind as extra. Unnecessary clutter. Thus, most of my jewelry was stashed away, and you could say I applied the same logic to household decor.

Granted, less knicknacks meant less things breaking when you had three boys at home. We had recently painted the walls a soft marine blue to add more colour. As Christmas neared, the house seemed to expand with the hearty aroma of baked goods, excitement and wintertime charm. Our Christmas tree could only take up so much space, though, and its elaborate ornaments hadn't changed in at least ten years. The rest of the living room; its walls, floor and empty space existed lifelessly. After a while, our potted plants and even my precious angel wings cactus (gifted from a relative with much enthusiasm) blended into the background; their vibrant greens now simply another piece of invisible furniture.

With just a few days before Christmas, I took to reorganizing everything in the attic. My wife and I had spent the day draping Christmas lights around the edge of our house's rooftop outside, and she was busy playing with the boys in the snow. They had however left quite the mess inside; snow sludge streaked the dust-patterned floor, and the boxes laid open, disorganized. I could wait until Christmas over, but I might as well rearrange everything now. We stashed lots of things in the attic; old shoes, outdated cassette tapes, and electrical wires that no one needed.

I sighed as I finally sorted out the last cardboard box and paused to sneeze. My seasonal cold. Wonderful. Then, a glittery metal case caught my eye. My warped reflection stretched as I reached and opened the clasp, and there was my jewlery from teenagerhood.

There was this one bracelet that I cherished fondly. The cool metal chain draped over my fingers. Red, green and fake diamond jewels sparkled tiredly. It was meant to wrap around your wrist a couple of times. It had come as a package deal with a Rainbow Magic novel--the Christmas version, with Cheryl the Christmas fairy. I remember being delighted, though three decades have passed since I held the bracelet in my hand again. After a few tries, I successfully clasped it around my wrist. Tomorrow, we planned to skate at the city park's skating rink and visit the Christmas market. I might as well look stylish.

But the bracelet sat wrong on my skin. Too distracting. Childish. A little itchy. There were other avenues of fashion to be explored, I thought wistfully. However, perhaps my bracelet would be appreciated elsewhere.

I took it off and trudged back to the living room, picking up my son's dirty socks from the floor and throwing them in the hamper. Our living room needed some work. Some flair. I went straight to my potted angel wing cactus. It was the cutest thing with small petal-like bodies, though it was covered with thin sharp spines. Once I draped my bracelet over it and stood back, I decided I liked it. All fashion was temporary but that didn't stop you from having fun and experimenting. My wife and sons already thought I was strange, so the most reaction I anticipated from them would be, "Ooookay, you do you, weirdo!"

Then, another spark of inspiration hit me as I continued to scan the living room. I dashed back up to the attic. If we kept Christmas lights up there, were there bedroom string lights too? They were called fairy lights, I believed, and they certainly shouldn't be restricted to the bedroom.

In half an hour, I had strung up the fairy lights in the living room where natural light from the windows couldn't reach. Playing with the settings, I settled for the pulse setting that slowly let the lights change from purple to blue to gold hues. It bathed the living room and gave it a magical air. Its glow reflected off the Christmas tree ornaments and my bracelet on my cactus. Subtle made the biggest changes, I supposed, and that gave me confidence for the future ahead. 

Writing stories like these where the "meaning" is in everyday life is a lot easier and less intense than writing fantasy or sci-fi with worldbuilding or heavy metaphors. Here it's just like writing a diary (albeit fictional), and the editing process is way more chill. Also, angel wing cacti has another name: bunny ear cacti.