Growing up in Roanoke, Virginia, Christmas decorations were hard to come by for Woodshed’s founder, Mark Lynn Ferguson. “My brother was allergic to pine, and we were flat broke,” he told me. “Buying an artificial tree was way out of the question. God bless, Momma — she begged and borrowed to get us some kind of tree each year.”

Most winters, Mark’s family assembled their own artificial tree using mismatched limbs scrounged from thrift stores and relatives’ dusty attics. From Thanksgiving to early January, that thing slouched in a corner, trimmed in hand-me-down ornaments and popsicle stick reindeer.

To most, the Frankenstein fir was an eyesore. But to Mark, it was nowhere near as unsightly as the aluminum tinsel tree a neighbor lent them one winter. Likely manufactured during the mid-century modern craze of the 1950s and deemed uncool by the 1970s, that space-age evergreen stuck out like a sparkly thumb in the Ferguson living room.

“While I faked a smile for pictures, I remember sitting under that tree stewing as I opened my gifts,” Mark remembered with a laugh. 

But at some point between the 1980s and today, Mark realized the “chintzy charm” of aluminum Christmas trees. Other people have, too.

Helen Ellis, author and contributing editor at Garden & Gun, has not one but two metallic trees — one silver and one bright pink. “There was also never a question of: Will two trees be too much,” she recently wrote in the magazine, “Just like there is never a question of: Will two complimentary upgrades to first class be too much? Or: Will two squirts of Calgon be too much?”

Where I live in Western North Carolina, folks wait all year to attend the much-anticipated Aluminum Tree and Aesthetically Challenged Ornament Museum (or ATOM for short). Hosted each winter at the Transylvania Heritage Museum in Brevard, the Yuletide exhibit is the only one of its kind in the world.

According to Rebecca Suddeth, museum executive director, the wacky tradition dates back to the early 1990s when local artist and architect Stephen Jackon was gifted a tattered aluminum tree destined for the landfill. 

“Remembering the silver tree from childhood, Stephen threw a party,” Rebecca said. “He invited friends to bring the most aesthetically challenged ornaments they could find. The gathering was a big hit.”

In the ensuing years, Stephen kept collecting tacky trees. Then, in 2013, the museum asked to borrow a few to exhibit.

“The display was so popular that Stephen agreed to sell a portion of his collection to the museum,” Rebecca explained. “Since then, generous people have donated additional vintage aluminum trees to the collection, and volunteers enjoy decorating them each holiday season.”

Today, around 500 visitors flock to ATOM each year. The faux forest features about three dozen trees trimmed in twinkling lights and festive adornments. This year, the conifers are decorated in honor of the 1960s, a decade Rebecca described as “filled with vibrant colors, unforgettable music, and unique holiday traditions.”

Busy as always, Mark won’t have the time this season to make the 275-mile trek from Roanoke to Brevard. But suffice it to say he now understands the nostalgic appeal of aluminum Christmas trees.

“I mean, they really epitomized their era, that mid-century obsession with the future,” he said. “In the context of moon landings and The Jetsons, they made a strange kind of sense — even a Christmas tree could be as shiny and metallic as a rocket.”

The Aluminum Tree and Aesthetically Challenged Ornament Museum happens at the Transylvania Heritage Museum (189 West Main St., Brevard, N.C.) through January 19. The museum is open Thursday-Saturday, noon to 4 p.m. Admission is free. For more information, call 828.884.2347 or visit TransylvaniaHeritage.org.