In every family, the box of Christmas ornaments is truly a treasure chest of memories passed down through generations.
I open my box, and the first thing I see is a pair of beautiful red ornaments tied together with a silk ribbon. Pine needles are wrapped around their stems, binding them as one. My grandmother and I bought these together. How could I ever forget that day?
We were returning home from Lenin Square, from the so-called “Vayntorg” - carrying a precious set of German red ornaments, obtained with great effort and through acquaintances. It was December, the snow was already so deep that public transport had stopped running, and we walked all the way along what was then Davitashvili Street.
I still see the scene clearly: a five- or six-year-old child bundled in mittens and a warm coat, holding a box tightly with both hands. Inside were six stunning red ornaments of different sizes, tied together with a red ribbon. I clutched it and would not let my grandmother carry it for a moment. I wasn’t walking - I was flying. I could already see how beautifully they would sparkle on my Christmas tree.
Snowflakes settled on the fox fur trimming my grandmother’s coat. Children were throwing snowballs and sledding in the street. My grandmother held a bag full of chocolate butter and sweets in one hand, and with the other she kept adjusting my hood.
Along the way she kept asking, “Darling, are your feet cold? Let me see your cheeks. Let me carry that box, my child, don’t slip…”
We were just about to turn into our street when I slipped - and fell hard, along with all my treasures. My red ornaments shattered into tiny fragments. Only two survived.
Behind the red ornaments, resting on cotton padding, lies a glass parachute and a hot-air balloon made of delicate beads. Those were my mother’s treasures from TSUM. One year, an earthquake shook the Christmas tree so violently that one fell and broke. From then on, every year my mother secured the tree so firmly that not even a tsunami could have moved it.
The golden glass tree topper - my mother and I bought it at the Marjanishvili department store. And there were glittering tinsel garlands too, which we never once used, but always said, “Let’s keep them - they’re beautiful, we’ll use them next year.”
The blue hand-painted ornament I brought from Prague for my sister. At that time, Tbilisi had electricity only two hours a day. I happened to be on a business trip in Prague just before the New Year. The city looked like a giant palace — sparkling lights, countless Christmas trees, warm glowing shops filled with happy people buying gifts… I felt as though I had stepped into a Hollywood Christmas film.
I bought hand-painted ornaments and brought home a piece of that beauty and happiness to my family in darkened Tbilisi.
The cheerful red-nosed Santa and two dozen more ornaments were bought just last week by my children and me in a big hypermarket in Tbilisi. We went in simply to buy yogurt — and came out carrying bags full of decorations. My children laughed and declared that from now on, New Year’s shopping would be called “buying yogurt.”
In every home, there is a box like this — full of ornaments and memories. Is there anything more precious than that?
The idea for Marilisi’s silver Christmas ornaments was born from exactly these tender and cherished emotions.
Our first collection, “Christmas Village,” was created in 2016. Then came “Candies” in 2017, “Snowflakes” in 2018, “Snowmen” in 2019, “Bells” in 2020… and so, every year, our holiday silver ornament collection grows with new designs. This year too, surprises await you in the Marilisi store. 💗
I wish that Marilisi’s silver ornaments - which will never shatter like my red glass ones — will always sparkle on your Christmas trees and tell joyful stories to your children and grandchildren.
Wishing you a happy and blessed New Year!
With warm holiday wishes,
Natia Gotsiridze
