A Festive Tale of Two Traditions: From Prague’s Cobblestones to the Glitz of the Silver Screen
If any European city appears specifically designed for the festive season, it is undoubtedly Prague. The Czech capital, with its intricate blend of Baroque, Renaissance, and Gothic architecture, offers a backdrop that feels like a fairytale regardless of the month. However, as December arrives, the winding, cobbled lanes of the Old Town and Lesser Town undergo a transformation. The air becomes heavy with the scent of svařák (mulled wine) and the sweet aroma of trdelník (chimney cakes) as the squares fill with wooden market stalls. While snow is never a guarantee, its arrival turns the city’s spires and terracotta rooftops into a scene of remarkable beauty. This is a time when locals and tourists alike converge to admire nativity scenes and join in the carols, particularly around the iconic Old Town Square.
A Different Perspective from the River
While the promenades lining the Vltava offer a pleasant stroll, many seek a more tranquil vantage point from the water itself. Festive sightseeing cruises have become a staple of the season, allowing guests to escape the bustling street-level crowds. From the warmth of a panoramic cabin or the bracing air of an open deck, the city’s landmarks—Prague Castle and the Charles Bridge—glide by in a 50-minute circuit. It is a chance to see the festively adorned architecture of the riverbanks without the typical holiday rush. For those interested in the arts, the city’s cultural life is equally vibrant during this period. The National Theatre and State Opera regularly stage holiday classics; notably, the former often presents a unique interpretation of The Nutcracker, weaving in elements of Dickens’ A Christmas Carol.
Ascending through History
To truly grasp the scale of the city’s winter charm, one must climb the Zamecke Schody, or the castle steps, in Mala Strana. The ascent reveals a sprawling jumble of historic rooftops and attic windows, culminating in a view that encompasses nearly all of central Prague. From this height, the Gothic spires and Baroque domes seem almost untouched by time, much as they might have appeared centuries ago. Once at the summit, the castle complex awaits, hosting its own dedicated Christmas market and offering guided tours that delve into the city’s turbulent history, including the infamous defenestrations. Back down in the Old Town Square, the scale of the celebration increases. Under the shadow of the Astronomical Clock and the spiky towers of the Church of Our Lady Before Týn, the city’s tallest Christmas tree stands as a focal point for the primary market.
The Rise of the Festive Maximalist
Across the Atlantic, and on our television screens, a very different kind of Christmas tradition is taking hold—one defined not by centuries of history, but by sheer decorative volume. Benjamin Bradley, better known by his moniker “Mr. Christmas,” has become the face of this American brand of holiday enthusiasm. Featured in the Netflix series Holiday Home Makeover, Bradley and his team represent the “more is more” philosophy. Where Prague relies on atmosphere and stone, Bradley relies on his trusty hot glue gun and an endless supply of plastic. His dog is even named Ebenezer, a nod to Scrooge, though Bradley’s own approach to the season is anything but miserly.
A Masterplan for the Holidays
The contrast between the subtle charm of a European square and the high-gloss aesthetic of Mr. Christmas is stark. In the world of reality television, the goal is total transformation. Bradley spends three days overhauling homes, fire stations, and foyers into “winter wonderlands” that often feature multiple plastic trees per room—including the kitchen and basement. Interestingly, the man responsible for these massive displays is actually allergic to real trees, a fact he admits while struggling to fell a pine for a client. His process is methodical: he assesses a family’s existing décor before retreating to his workshop to draft a “masterplan.” This usually involves oversized nutcrackers, faux snowdrifts made of glittery plastic, and candy canes glued to polystyrene.
The Spectacle of the Reveal
The culmination of these modern efforts is the “big reveal,” a moment of high drama where lights are switched on to the sound of artificial snow cannons. Families are often left speechless by the sheer scale of the change—foyers turned into gingerbread houses and four-metre trees perched atop golden drums. It is an aesthetic of excess that raises practical questions, such as where one might store several dozen medical-ball-sized baubles once January arrives. Yet, for all the differences between a quiet dawn walk across the Charles Bridge and the neon-lit extravaganzas of “Holiday Home Makeover,” both traditions share a common goal. Whether through the preservation of history or the creation of a temporary, plastic-clad fantasy, the objective remains the same: to manufacture a sense of wonder in the darkest month of the year.
