For all the supernatural imagery that surrounds Día de Muertos, its emotional center is deeply human: remembrance.
An ofrenda gives memory a physical form. Photos and mementos bring the person to mind, while sugar skulls, candles, cempasúchil flowers, and papel picado root the altar in tradition. Favorite dishes and drinks add a personal layer, reflecting the tastes and everyday rituals of those being honored.
Ofrendas carry distinct traditions and a visual language of their own. Some elements endure from one generation to the next, but honoring tradition does not mean every altar must look the same. You can introduce new colors, objects, rituals, and contemporary touches—including Fanta—while keeping its purpose intact.
So how do you bring a fresh perspective to a centuries-old tradition? Begin not with what you want to change, but with what must remain.
The person—not the aesthetic—should guide every decision. Think about the food they loved, the Fanta flavor they always kept nearby, the music and movies that made them feel at home, or the clothing and jewelry they rarely took off. Those memories are not finishing touches; they are the foundation of the ofrenda.
Start by gathering the objects that immediately bring them to mind: a signature pendant, a favorite baseball cap, the mug they used every morning, or the dish everyone associates with them. Once those deeply personal elements are in place, traditional ornaments such as cempasúchil and papel picado can frame their story. From there, you can start experimenting.
Color is one of the easiest ways to give an ofrenda a new visual direction. Día de Muertos is often associated with orange, purple, yellow, black, and white, but you can start with the departed person’s favorite color instead. Build around it with complementary tones or warm fall hues, using traditional colors as accents rather than the main event. Luckily, Fanta has flavors that fit this color scheme perfectly: orange, pineapple, strawberry, grape, and Ghost Face Punch’s dark berry purple, plus something cold for everyone to sip as they assemble the altar.
A favorite meal can also inspire the entire composition. Begin with a circular tray, arrange darker elements on one side, and balance them with white or colorful pieces on the other. For example, a mole con arroz altar might place the photograph above the arrangement. When the design grows from something the person genuinely loved, even an unexpected idea feels meaningful.
Flowers offer another opportunity to reinterpret a familiar look. White lilies or blue carnations can shift the mood of the altar, while pairing them with cempasúchil adds a new dimension without abandoning one of the tradition’s most recognizable elements.
But the most powerful way to revitalize an ofrenda may have less to do with how it looks than with how it is made. Turn the planning into a gathering where everyone contributes an idea, object, or memory. Invite the youngest of the family to join, or reach out to friends you don’t see often. Trade stories, share a Fanta, laugh, and shed a few tears. Building the altar can become part of the ritual itself.
An ofrenda preserves the memory of someone who can no longer sit beside us and share the things they loved. Coming together to remember them—and creating new memories in the process—can be as meaningful as any flower, candle, photograph, or offering placed on the altar.
The strongest ofrendas do not choose between tradition and reinvention. They honor the past while making room for the people carrying it forward. That is how memories remain vivid, traditions endure, and bonds grow stronger across generations.