This Christmas, while rewatching Home Alone, I noticed something I’d missed all these years—a deep, mysterious shade of green woven throughout the film. It’s not just festive; it’s deliberate, quietly signaling something. As if the movie is whispering... wealth.
As a kid, it was obvious the McCallisters had money—flying the whole family to Paris for Christmas and living in that massive house? They were loaded no doubt. But now, I notice the quieter signals: the textures, the colors. The McCallister house isn’t just big; it’s layered with that subtle, old-money elegance that whispers wealth without shouting it—a masterclass in the quiet opulence of the 1990s.
