A Non-Monetary, Intangible Gift Guide For One (A Self-Indulgent Holiday Miracle)
Screw your desires. Here’s what my friends would get me.
This is likely by far the most self-centered, self-interested, downright selfish post of mine to ever exist. I should do this more often.
My parents gave me one of my final Proper Gifts sometime around age 12 in the form of a Juicy sweatsuit (I found it for half price on eBay and sent them the link) and a pair of knit, gray Uggs, which I’m wearing at this exact moment, 16 years later. It wasn’t for a lack of wanting on their end, I think, but more so an abundance of bewilderment or something of that sort. What is there left to give a girl you’ve already sacrificed everything for? One growing up in a country whose religious majority took part in holidays that weren’t our own and whose gifting practices, frankly, celebrated the ostentatiously grotesque. In the birthdays and holidays to come, they transitioned from the burden of guessing which dolls and toys and girly, pre-teen oddities consumed my desires to something more sensible: cash. And they tried to give it, within the confines of their middle class means, generously so. Never once did this feel like an inferior gift. I was so lucky. I still am. Looking back, perhaps it was the best gift two refugees could have imagined imparting upon their lineage: disposable income.
Since then, though, I’ve grown into somewhat of a rabid monster. It would seem that as an adult, in order to offset the years I spent in that expected threshold of endowment, a place where surprise did not live in tandem with gifting, I’ve become consumed with the thought of giving everyone I love a Proper Gift. I live to surprise. I live to ambush. My notes app is filled with running lists of objects and desires those around me have, in passing, mentioned in my presence — scents they love, gloves they need, books they’re dying to read and very specific hair clips they’ve been searching for. It’s a borderline voyeuristic, perverted dance. I’m not saying I’m the best gift-giver in the world. In fact, half of the time I forget to plan ahead far enough in advance to actually acquire the gift I’d like to give and the other half I can’t afford whatever it is. But I do try. Giving a good gift is a chance to show someone just how much of their interior world you understand — just how much you’ve been willing to notice the glimmers of themselves they’ve relinquished to you. It’s a deeply personal experience.
This year, for whatever reason, I’ve decided to forcibly relegate that experience, one of receiving something so personalized and pertinent, onto myself. I’ve decided to fill the ache in all of us that longs to be seen I suppose. I’ve decided, more than anything else, to be deliciously self-indulgent. And anyway, there’s been quite a bit of gift guide discourse — we’re fatigued of being sold an object, a sensibility, a life. So why not reach for the intangible?
Instead of a traditional holiday listicle, I’ve put together a narcissistic gift guide for one, or what has revealed itself to be a litmus test both in how much those around me know who I am at my core and how much I let them in to be able to do so. I asked my friends, family, co-workers and acquaintances I’m on a similar and trustworthy vibe with, but might not know very well IRL, one question: “If money wasn’t an issue, what would you get me for the holidays? It can be free, immaterial and intangible.” I expected most of the respondents to say something within reach, like “Clinique Black Honey lipstick” or “a flower clip from your favorite boutique in Copenhagen,” but most of what people said was delightfully unquantifiable and lovingly specific. Everyone wishes they could attend their own funeral. Creating this gift guide, I can only assume, felt like a close second or third.
Thank you to everyone who participated in this silly little experiment. At first, I wanted to tell the rest of you in detail how long I’ve known each of these people and their tether to me. But I found it more interesting, more fun and more playful to leave that up to the imagination. Enjoy.
Claudia:
A bathtub of pickles. Specifically Claussen dill pickles. I’m imagining a dunk tank, but a giant Claussen tub. Why? “Because yummy and also you love.”
EDITOR’S NOTE: I’ve been around the pickle world and back. I’ve tasted briny slices and spheres you couldn’t dream of. Half-sours, full-sours, spicy-sours, garlicky-sours, non-cucumber-sours. You name it. The best, and most consistent, crunch you will find come from Claussen. Rarely do I come across a flaccid spear.
Julia H.:
A new back. Rum Raisin lipstick.
EDITOR’S NOTE: First, my spine is a faulty one. Second, in college, I was notorious for carrying this Revlon shade around. I’d been wearing it since high school since it was the official/unofficial shade of both our dance team and cheerleading squad. Once, I exited a house on campus to see a tube I’d dropped used as a marker on the concrete, whittled down to a mere nub. I don’t remember what the perpetrator wrote with my beloved, but I do remember their note lasted months. That’s long-wear folks!
Razan:
A trip to Miami and a free Palestine. Why Miami? “Because it’s fun.”
Yaz:
A spot on the shelf at Barnes and Noble. Unlimited PTO, but the real kind, not the fake corporate test kind where you get backlash for taking it (EDITOR’S NOTE: I already have this). Also I’d give you bitcoin 10 years ago. And I’d give you a dream wedding budget.
Meg:
An immediate ceasefire (in Palestine) that every world leader would obey.
EDITOR’S NOTE: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Spencer:
“Oh my god what wouldn’t I give you.”
“A [EDITOR’S NOTE: redacted because I’m superstitious and shy lol], a helicopter ride around the city, scuba diving lessons in Greece, the finest escargot and martinis in France, an archeological dig where we dig up dinosaur bones (that one's kinda for me too) an outdoor patio for the cats, wall shelves for the cats, a pink Vespa, all the finest jewelry in the land, a cottage in cape cod with an English garden with 3 goats, 2 pigs, 10 ducks, 12 chickens, and some bunnies.”
EDITOR’S NOTE: wow <333333. Each of these is tethered directly to my soul. Except the dinosaur dig, but I’m not opposed.
Ryley:
A donation to Palestine, gifts from a Palestinian artist like Sarah Bahbah. Secondhand items. A stack of like vintage magazines, maybe from the year you were born. I feel like you like little trinkets and glassware too.
EDITOR’S NOTE: As always, you can donate to Healing Our Homeland.
Kaelyn:
Chobani Oat Nog. A YouTube video or a vat of soup on a cold day. A week in the Hamptons with everyone you love and a huge amount of seafood and cigarettes.
EDITOR’S NOTE: Yum. If you’re my mom, don’t read that last line. Forget it. Actually, I have no idea what they’re talking about. I’ve never put the devil’s stick within these lips!!!! IT’S A METAPHOR.
my very cool friend and designer Lirika Matoshi’s pop-up after party in New York.
Blythe:
Homemade sourdough toast with raspberry preserves, gochugaru flakes, and sumac. Why? It’s a comfort meal of mine, and I’d love to share it with you. It’s simple and something you can return to whenever you want.
Hanny:
A trip to anywhere in the Middle East with our family. And good health and a fixed back. And a pair of Boston Birkenstocks. Why the Birks?? Because I want them.
EDITOR’S NOTE: Good enough. Honestly, you guys get context for this because it’s my brother, and I feel like everything makes sense with that knowledge. Once again, my back would put a bendy straw to shame.
Gutes:
A mountain spring. Why? You’d have clean water forever.
EDITOR’S NOTE: Not only would this likely cure any physical ailment, but also any mental/spiritual ailment I might encounter.
Maria:
A Tesla robot. Why? “I feel like you’d write a really entertaining and insightful review on it. And I want to be entertained.”
EDITOR’S NOTE: So you enjoy my work?!?!? Flattery will get you everywhere!
Annie G.:
A little jar of fun memories and things that remind me of you.
Zaynah:
Free iconic manicures forever.
EDITOR’S NOTE: These can only be accomplished by my nail artist @ibedoingnails. I have been loyal to her for nearly three years now.
Lauren:
I call it The Temporary Lobotomy ™. The Temporary Lobotomy ™️ is a groundbreaking device that grants instant relief from your worries and your concerns with the complications of the world by temporarily removing your ability to think about anything besides what is immediately in front of you. Like a baby! Good for: when your thoughts or feelings are getting in the way of work, when you want to be the dinner party guest who discusses skincare routines in earnest without descending into unexpected existential dread, and so much more ❤️ Turn off your brain and turn on the fun 😃 Other taglines include: Out of sight, out of mind. From “I’m stressed” to “cute dress!”
EDITOR’S NOTE: Actually, no notes. Lauren’s brain is a gift.
Asia:
A massage.
EDITOR’S NOTE: PLEASE. ONCE AGAIN. MY SPINE. THINK OF MY DISCS AND VERTEBRATES.
Katie:
A perfect back and feeling confident 100% of the time.
EDITOR’S NOTE: Per my last note…
Ana:
“I would say ***** ** **** but that would get me flagged by the FBI.”
Morgan:
A cat.
EDITOR’S NOTE: This person has indeed already gifted me a cat at a Secret Santa party our junior year of high school. One of my cats had passed away a month or two before, and in walks Morgan carrying this little, gray kitty in her arms. I immediately knew he was for me. I named him Teddy and he sits in mother’s lap every single day.
Kat:
Direct business class airline tickets for you and a family member to a dream destination that you’ve always wanted to experience together.
EDITOR’S NOTE: Sometimes, the experience of a foreign city, like Paris or Rome or Copenhagen, places I’m lucky enough to visit through work, fills me with guilt. I wish my parents could see the Eiffel Tower. I wish they could eat fresh rigatoni in an Italian alleyway. I wish we could traverse through Palestine and find the homes they would’ve, and should’ve, grown up in.
Elaine:
A cat sanctuary next to your house so as many cats as you want can live happily there.
Kate:
A customized E-Citibike that you own.
EDITOR’S NOTE: More than anything, I wish New York was a real biking city. I wish I had the autonomy a bike of your own gives you in a big city without the fear of getting hit by an Uber with two drunk girls in the back yelling at their driver that they’re going to be late for one of their situationship’s birthday party at Jean’s.
Sammie:
The ability to bitch slap one person and never get in trouble and live guilt free from it.
EDITOR’S NOTE: This is so thoughtful.
Calla:
The sun filtering through the foggy morning mist of a prairie.
EDITOR’S NOTE: Nearly at all times, my heart feels torn between the city and the jarring quiet of some far off countryside I’ve likely never visited anywhere beyond my own mind. It’s a deeply unoriginal, borderline universal experience, but mine nonetheless.
Clara:
A lock of Nora Ephron’s hair.
EDITOR’S NOTE: I’m processing this!
Kitty:
A book deal ASAP.
Marta:
All the money you need to never work again.
Julia C.:
I would get you a night of peaceful, deep sleep. Why? You’ve said your sleep schedule is funky.
EDITOR’S NOTE: After returning from Shanghai, my sleep schedule rivaled a frat boy experiencing his last two weeks of senior year. I was getting a nourishing three to four hours a night. These gummies from Rose Los Angeles quite literally healed me.
Annie S.:
A Disney trip with [your high school journalism teacher].
EDITOR’S NOTE: Giving context to this would require a 2,000 word newsletter of its own.
Erin:
A Kansas thunderstorm paired with the same feeling you get from sleeping in your mom’s bed.
Delia:
A full CitiBike dock always.
EDITOR’S NOTE: Delia bravely followed me through the East Village on an E-Bike once. We both survived. Her purse almost did not.
Bert:
Tiny kitchen utensils.
EDITOR’S NOTE: I never had a dollhouse of my own, but I grew up visiting an older couple named Bill and Sally. They’d taken my father in after he arrived in the States alone and met their son in school. Years and years later, they became stand-in grandparents for me. Bill was an expert craftsman and built dollhouses and furniture from scratch. As a child, I’d stand in their home, alone in a room, staring at the massive yet tiny homes he’d make, sometimes for an hour or so. Always looking, but never touching. I still like miniature things all these years later.
tiny things
Brooke:
I wish for your cats to live forever.
me + a gift
Consumption Junction:
Objects, thoughts and media rattling around in my mind:
With the holiday and winter season approaching, I’m thinking of all the children in Gaza. Please consider spending what you would on a cocktail or two at your hometown bar, rolling your eyes at the guy who peaked in high school incorrectly mansplain tariffs to you, on a donation to Palestinians instead:
This was a joy to read 💕
Amazing!!! This is the only gift guide I will be accepting this year.