TOUCH: A crystal from the Times Square New Year’s ball

For the first time ever, in 2025 each of the 2,688 crystals on the ball that drops to the roof of One Times Square each New Year’s Eve will be entirely replaced with a new crystals. (Typically, only a portion are replaced each year.) This year, the One Times Square visitor center decided to distribute 700 of these used crystals from years past to the public—for free—on a first-come, first-served basis. People started lining up before dawn for the privilege of owning one of the glass triangles that had covered the surface of the six-ton, twelve-foot-diameter ball in years past. How magical would it be even to touch one of the crystals that, for a few hours, had glowed and sparkled in the winter air above Times Square, before plumetting 135 feet down a pole at the stroke of midnight, watched by billions of people around the world?

The giveaway was scheduled to begin at 11 a.m., but when I arrived, the lines of people stamping their feet in the cold were in a tangle, with beanie-capped workers trying to corral them: “Move this way!” “We are going to cut off the line right by this trash can!” Despite the chaos, the energy was generally festive, with people chatting and laughing over their steaming Starbucks cups, while Grinches and Santas mingled with Elmos, the Naked Cowboy strummed us a tune, dogs in Santa outfits paraded through the Pedestrian Flow Zone, and curious tourists with red-white-and-green rainbow bagels asked, “Excuse me, but what is the line for?” A reporter from CBS news interviewed a French couple: “Can you tell us how excited you are just to touch part of the New Year’s ball?”

To stay calm amid the torrent, I bided my time listening to a Buddhist meditation on liminal states, which seemed on point, and watching the ad screens around me cycle through images of dancing egg rolls and families in matching pajamas, Alpine skiers and cuddle piles of teens in cozy sweaters. Every so often I pulled out an AirPod to tune in to announcements about which lines were moving which way, and New Yorkers making sure they got their rightful spot in the “crystals” queue, and not the much shorter queue to get a photo taken before the giant 2025 sign that will light up atop One Times Square, just below the ball.

For the past twenty-three years, the crystals have had an annual theme.

The 2025 theme is the “Ever Crystal,” with “Ever” referring both to the Love in Times Square vows renewal destination, as well as to unity. The Waterford crystal triangles, manufactured by an upstate New York firm called Gillinder Glass, measure between four and six inches per side. Eventually, they will be bolted to an LED light module and linked across the surface of the sphere, producing up to sixteen million colors and even more kaleidoscopic patterns to dazzle the world as the ball drops.

The two people in front of me, both apparently New Yorkers, appeared to have met and befriended each other while waiting on line since 8 a.m.: they assured everyone in their vicinity that they would be the ones to make sure our little group was on the right line and that we got to the front in a timely fashion, not to worry. But at the last minute, they decided to make a break for it, talked their way into a VIP line, and emerged triumphantly bearing their crystal trophies, while the rest of us continued to inch forward, feeling betrayed but not entirely surprised. Finally, with the help of a young worker in a red beanie and tinted sunglasses who told us his job was just to “make sure everyone was being courteous and the vibes are good,” we made it to the front of the line and the Bankers Boxes boxes full of crystals, handed out by smiling twentysomethings.

By a sign touting “The Crystal VIP Experience,” workers with screwdrivers were replacing the old crystals with the new on a sample swath of the ball. Plans for next year are to inaugurate a behind-the-scenes “Crystal VIP Experience,” when ticketed visitors will be able to place the new crystals directly on the ball themselves and take home an old one, personalized for each guest.

Each triangle came in a keepsake velvet pouch with a microfiber glass wipe. The package was surprisingly substantial and luxe—not to mention free.

My crystal was embossed with 2022, the “Gift of Widsom” theme, ” which, according to Jeffrey Strauss, president of Countdown Entertainment, a co-organizer of the Ball Drop, was “represented by a wheel with petals of knowledge growing ever forward.”

It was cool and smooth to the touch and had a pleasant heft and substantiality. This was no cheap trinket. Held up to the winter light in my kitchen, the crystal imparted a sense of calm solidity. I thought about how this little triangle had once been shot through with light atop the Crossroads of the World, symbolizing the wait for a ball to drop, for a new year to turn, for new resolutions and new beginnings—and how much significance our culture places on the act of waiting, much as I’d waited hours for my little “Gift of Wisdom.” I gave it a rub with my complimentary cloth and tucked it back into its pouch.