Red used to mean one thing at Christmas: a particular shiny, slightly orange red that showed up on everything from tinsel to tree skirts and made a room look like a fire engine had been sick on it. That's mostly gone now. The red you find these days splits into proper categories, a deep wine or berry tone, a matte brick red, a glossy cherry for the pieces that want to shine, and you can actually build a room around one of those instead of fighting it. Better, in my opinion, by a wide margin.
The difference between a good red ornament and a sad one is almost always in the finish and the weight. Cheap glass baubles have a thin, uneven coat that goes patchy under lamp light, and the cap is often a stapled wire loop that pulls loose by the second Christmas. Pick one up and turn it over. A better one has a smooth, consistent glaze or a proper matte velvet flock, a metal cap that's actually crimped or glued into a groove, not just jammed on, and glass with enough heft that it doesn't feel like it'll go in your palm. Fabric pieces, stockings, tree skirts, ribbon, should have finished seams and a weave that doesn't fray the first time it brushes against a sleeve.
Red sits well against the things you already own, which is its whole advantage. Dark wood furniture, green foliage obviously, brass or gold hardware, and plain white or cream walls all make red look richer rather than cartoonish. It's a color that behaves worse under cool white bulbs and genuinely glows under warm ones, so if your string lights lean blue white, that cherry red ornament is going to look dull no matter how good it is.
It suits almost any home honestly, apartments included, because you're not committing much wall space to it, just a tree, a mantel, a table runner. It reads best in the darker months when the room is mostly lit by lamps and candles rather than daylight, which is most of December anyway.
For scale, hold the ornament or the piece up against the space it's meant to fill before you buy a box of them. A tree skirt should sit a few inches past the widest branches, not stop short, and stockings look thin and sad hung three to a narrow mantel when two slightly bigger ones would have filled it properly. The common mistake is buying one shade of red in six different finishes and ending up with a tree that looks assembled by committee rather than chosen by one person.
It won't make a beige room feel transformed on its own, it's a color, not a renovation.