Now, back to my initial distaste for fringe. You see, my first impression of the trim was not through sight but another sense: The only fringe I remember in my home was circa 1980. It was on a burnt orange pillow on my mother's sofa. As a 2-year-old, I used to chew on the fringe 'til it was covered in drool. There you have it, that's where I developed my taste for fringe.
Do you have any fringe in your home? Tell us why it's beautiful (or tasty) in the comments below!