Downtown Magazine found kindness and community at Chic Shack during Christmastime in NYC. As someone new to the city, I knew I had to have a Christmas tree. So, I went in search of the perfect one that would fit my budget. Along the way, I was reminded that sometimes it’s not the price tag, but the people and the atmosphere that draw you in. That was certainly the case on the Upper West Side at the Chic Shack on the corner of 73rd and Broadway. Earlier that day, on my way to the 72nd Street subway, a sign caught my eye: “Hey! Don’t miss our annual Christmas party with Santa & surprises at the tree stand—DJ set at 8:30 tonight!”

Lucky for me, I showed up just as their neighbors from the building around the corner did as well. Almost immediately, a festive atmosphere greeted passersby, many of whom stopped to buy an ornament or a centerpiece along with a Christmas tree. As I learned, the young men who ran the stall return to the same spot annually, and in fact, 2025 marked their fifth year. Notably, the young Canadians greeted people by their first names; hugs were exchanged, creating a true feeling of Christmas. From every direction, all ethnicities—young and old—arrived with their four-legged companions, both big and small.

Before long, no one wanted to leave. Instead, we stayed, exchanged stories, and eventually were greeted by a local florist who crafted centerpieces from scraps of tree branches, transforming them into gorgeous fir arrangements and wreaths.

As the evening went on, more hugs ensued, and gifts were given to us as well—both from the florist and the tree vendors. Soon after, neighbors arrived with thermoses filled with warm drinks, adding spice and comfort to the winter night. Somewhere in the midst of it all, I found my perfect tree, a moment made especially meaningful because my mother had passed away the previous Halloween.

They say the second year without a loved one—particularly a parent—is often the hardest. In truth, as my mother aged and required more care, she no longer wanted a tree; to her, it belonged to the past. Still, the ornaments and the feelings they carried were cherished by me—her daughter and caretaker—during the holidays. So this year, I brought my mother’s ornaments with me from my storage unit, determined to have a true NYC Christmas.

Meanwhile, a DJ played on the block, and as people walked into the music, they danced their way out— moving the full length of the block while still within range of the pulsing sounds. That night, NYC felt especially vibrant. At every pause, complete strangers stopped to admire the handmade reindeers. The vendors crafted reindeers from the sliced bases of the trees: branches became antlers, circular blocks of wood formed the bodies, and smaller twigs served as legs. The young  men deftly pieced  them  together throughout the day

In that moment, I was full of joy and merriment, surrounded by a true community— neighbors who had stepped out of their buildings to join in the shared festivity of the season.

At one point, a vendor — who preferred to remain nameless — welcomed me and led me to the Tree of Wishes. There, I was handed a pen and a simple paper tag tied with cotton twine, invited to write a wish and place it on the tree. As I glanced around the tree, some wishes spoke of wanting a new home, of not being homeless; others wished for love or a new job. Suddenly, reading them began to feel intrusive.

So, I set pen to paper and quietly wrote my own wish to tag on the tree.

As I turned around, my perfect Christmas tree again came into view. Immediately, I knew I wanted it — and I had to bring it home that night. Though the revelers at the stall offered free delivery the next day, I couldn’t wait. My ornaments were already laid out in my apartment, waiting to be hung on its branches. The countdown had begun.

With that decision made, I gathered my gifts: a small wooden reindeer, a centerpiece for my table, and — most importantly — my tree. Its stand was fastened tightly and ready to go.

It was a skill these men clearly possessed: grabbing the tree below the center, tilting it just right, and walking away with it in hand. Laughing, they demonstrated the proper way to carry a tree. Eager to leave, I followed their instructions, achieving a perfect balance with the tree in my stronger hand. Slowly—yet gleefully— I began to make my way down the street.

Just two city blocks in, a couple approached me and said, “Let us help you carry that tree—we’ll walk with you.” After quick introductions and an exchange of names, the husband promptly lifted the tree from my grasp.

I exclaimed how happy I was for their help, sharing that I was new to the Upper West Side and that, in a single evening, all my wishes had come true. I realized then that I was not alone in New York City—not at all. As we walked, we chatted like neighbors, like people who had known one another for years.

When we arrived at the brownstone, he climbed the steps with the beautiful six-foot fir balanced on his shoulder. Overcome with gratitude, I hugged his wife and then him before hurrying up the steps to my prize.

My first Christmas in New York City was complete.

Random acts of kindness. Gifts from strangers. New neighbors. Shared stories and warm drinks—all of it brought good cheer. Pure NYC magic on a Christmas night. ✨🎄 Photos courtesy of Jo-Ann Dean.