I can vividly remember the moment I started hating gifts. I was 15, and my parents had just returned from a trip to Paris. “You won’t believe the things we got you,” they told me over the phone while driving home from the airport. In my head was a hat straight off Agyness Deyn’s head, a shiny genuine leather jacket, and maybe a plaid shirt or Led Zeppelin T-shirt. Though, I wasn’t sure why these would be appropriate souvenirs from Paris.
At that moment, my life consisted of copying Gia Marie Carangi’s off-duty looks (or at least the ones Angelina Jolie wears in the movie) and cutting out photos from magazines that I would then paste on the green walls of my teenage bedroom. But I was wrong. As soon as she stepped through the front door, my mom dropped a bag full of clothes in front of me. "There's this one store we discovered. The clothes are fabulous! I couldn’t decide what to choose." First, I pulled out a black T-shirt with a cat made of pink rhinestones. Then, a neon green tunic fell out of the bag. What does this woman think, whom has she been living with for the past 15 years? "Wow, thanks, Mom," I said, out of politeness, tried on the clothes and never wore them again.
Then I remembered that when she was young, there were no rhinestones, kids wore a single pair of jeans, and if you wanted anything even slightly unusual, you had to sew it yourself. That's when I realized that gifting is a responsible task. And receiving unwanted gifts is a serious hassle. "Oh, it's beautiful!" I exclaimed countless times while opening a gift from Mom's friends simply to eliminate any suspicion that I might not like it. "Dear, I received your gift. It's marvelous, thank you very much!" I would write in an e-mail every time a client or a designer sent me a gift during my editorial days (thereby eliminating any hope that I would publish something just because they sent me a gift). I nervously opened every expensive present a group of friends bought me because they could afford to get me “something better" together. Like when I stand in front of the washing machine that says there's only one minute left in the wash even though I know very well that it's not true and I'll be standing there for at least another four minutes.
Because of my antipathy to unwanted gifts, I’m particularly annoyed when people refuse to say what they want for their birthday, housewarming, or childbirth. "I'll buy you something anyway, and it's better if you choose it yourself" has become my new mantra to persuade them to speak up. It works with some, but others insist, "But I don't need anything, seriously," they shrug their shoulders and refuse to answer. That trick does not, however, work with kids. They will have an answer to that question every time, and it will almost always involve some expensive plastic nonsense they saw in a commercial between morning cartoons. So, it's safest not to ask for their opinion. Buy them a book. Whether they want it or not, their underdeveloped minds certainly need it. A book is what I ask for my birthdays, too. (That is when someone bothers to ask me what I want.) A new title enters my reading list every week. It will never run dry. Besides, except for massive coffee table books that I'm not particularly fond of, books are relatively cheap, and I know my shameless request won't break the bank.
Most gifts that I don't need, I simply regift. However, to my regret, there is a category of presents that you can never pass on. Recently, at a festival, I refused a goodie bag that contained pâtés, flavored water in plastic bottles, and stretchy neck warmers with the logo of a company that sells online employee testing systems. (Now that I think of it, I could have donated it to a homeless shelter.) It's even worse when you can't refuse a gift because someone simply sends it to your address without asking. For Christmas, my accountant sent me a velvet tree ornament with a large plastic logo of her company glued on it. The logo makes it impossible to regift to someone who might actually like it. And God knows I sweat quite a bit while figuring out how to recycle all the components of that pointless object.
I would genuinely love to ask her, "What is the purpose of this thing? Do you think someone will come to Christmas dinner, spot the ornament, and say, 'Oh, what a cool plastic symbol!' And when I explain what it is, they will gasp and exclaim, 'Get out of here! I TOTALLY need accounting services!'" I would appreciate it more if she sent me a card via e-mail. However, the good news is that she didn't pay a graphic designer in vain to come up with a logo that, if it weren't for velvet ornaments, would have nothing to sit on.
Sometimes I openly admit to people that the gift I’m giving them is secondhand. Other times, I do it silently. And I don't see anything wrong with that. Especially when I know the gift is perfect for that particular person. In fact, I enjoy giving gifts to others and taking the time to carefully choose something that will let them know I listen and care. That often results in no gifts at all since I refuse to buy anything short of perfect. I didn't buy my partner anything for his 30th birthday. "Well, you'll find something by December," a friend encouraged me in that supposedly terrible situation. But I didn't find anything and didn't buy anything because the thought of getting some meaningless material nonsense whose origin and future I don't know was worse than buying nothing. And that's so liberating.
We force ourselves to buy gifts because it’s expected, and in doing so, we burden people with unnecessary things that rarely bring them joy. We stress ourselves out because we must find the perfect gift by a certain date. We stress others because they have to accept something they may not like and ultimately, even worse, have to get rid of. The satisfaction is immeasurably greater when we accidentally come across a gift in the most unexpected place that seems tailor-made for a dear person, and we give it to them regardless of the special occasion. (Of course, there are people for whom it's impossible to buy a gift, and we'll always rack our brains trying. In those cases, I vote that we normalize gifting money. Sue me.)
My partner got his 30th birthday gift almost a year later when I found an Under Pressure vinyl single signed both by David Bowie and Bryan May. A gift better than any Calvin Klein shirt, smartwatch, or other craziness others suggested. He was overjoyed, and I blossomed.
In this part of the newsletter, I’ll call someone out for being the best or worst in sustainability. Also, just for fun, I’ll give you snippets of what I’m reading, wearing, watching, listening to, and so on. I retain the right to change this part of the newsletter with every new entry but feel free to write to me if you like something in particular.
Green (de)merit
This week I’m giving out a demerit for greenwashing to a “green” festival held in Zagreb in May (the month when I started writing this particular entry). Marketed as the largest sustainability festival in this part of Europe, with over 80 speakers from different sustainability fields, their sponsors are a fast fashion shopping platform, a beauty company that uses petroleum in its products, and a company that bottles fresh water into plastic, to name a few. I’m so tired of that bullshit. Always dig deeper, ask questions, and don’t trust the “green” label before seeing the evidence.
What I’m reading
I’ve been into audiobooks for some time now. I listen to them while I drive or garden, which, as it turns out, took 12 hours of my time last week. I listened to Elena Ferrante’s My Brilliant Friend, which was long overdue. I also finally made some time to read David Sedaris’ Happy-Go-Lucky - BRILLIANT. And before that, I finished Amy Odell’s Anna Wintour biography, something I could’ve survived without but am not sorry I spent my time on either.
What I’m wearing
I’m in my skirts era. I’m especially into long skirts, which has never been my thing. Though I’m still figuring out which tops to wear with them. I love how my style is changing recently. I’m learning more about myself, and finally don’t feel like I have to explain my clothing choices (or share them here). (Not there yet, but I’m getting there.)
What I’m writing
Did you know that Bruce Lee made Onitsuka Tiger Mexico 66 famous even though he didn’t actually wear them? Well, at least not in the movie that supposedly made them famous. I wrote a few words about it for Telegram. I also wrote a guide on fabric care for Marija Kulušić. Download it in the form of an e-book for free here.
Inspiration of the week
Jalil Johnson. Are you following him on Instagram? Well, start. There are no words to describe the effortlessness of his not-very-effortless style. Every look is perfect.
Confession of the week
I still play Wordle.
I’m a big supporter of gifting on demand only since the terrifying era of 18th birthdays. I let down many friends because of my beliefs in this field but I believe in flowers, chocolates, cookies and wine on given celebrations and on beautiful desired things or experiences when they are truly available. The habit to write a letter to Santa with a wish list is underrated!