assorted gifts of varying opulence

Polspotten's brass candelabra, as twisted as an old apple tree.

Bridie Hall's intaglio soaps, for getting into a (classical) lather.

A golden gown by Simone Rocha, for sitting for your official portrait.

Delectable almond cookies, packed in a keep-forever tin.

Weiner Time's exuberant cushion, for decadent lounging.

Buly matches, scented with violet and rose.

A diamond-shaped tin of marzipan sweets, because marzipan always feels fancy.

Lelet's bobby pins decked with chain bows (best worn by the dozen).

A POJ Studio kintsugui kit, for making repairs in gold.

A Hogarth Press first edition of Virginia Woolf's Monday or Tuesday, with plates by her sister, Vanessa Bell.

Aris Geldis' heavy bracelet of gilded fringe (or Gogo's acorn earrings of baroque pearl).

Bookmarks fit for royalty, designed by Ark Colour Design in Scotland.

A truly luxe hot-water-bottle cover, made by Samantha Holmes of ethically sourced alpaca and wool.

Smart shoes are always a treat—these are Tibi's Randolph flats in zebra-print pony hair.

A bottle of tears—could anything be more precious?

*

One more indulgence: These funny gift guides are an annual delight to compile for all of you anonymous folks out there. I don't make any money from them—no affiliate links, no placements, nada! I'm an online renegade!—but if they have brought you joy or amusement, please consider making a donation to Doctors Without Borders. I'm donating what I can, too, and holding the people of Palestine, Ukraine, and Sudan in my heart. Thank you.

gifts for exuberantly eccentric eight-year-olds

 

Assorted Ototo Spaghetti Monster tools, so they can learn to make their own buttered noodles.

An avocado to stuff with surprises, like a couple of Maria Tallchief golden dollars or a fifty-pence coin from Narnia.

A lockable Gerstner mini chest, for assorted secret and precious treasures.

A clear lock that comes with picks to challenge nimble child fingers and scheming young brains.

Zach Weinersmith's Bea Wolf, an epic tale of the triumph of youth (and one of the most absolutely delightful books we read in 2023).

The Turning Tumble, a marble run that is actually a computer, to demystify magical screens.

Polymer clay, to make the tiny accoutrements desired for last year's woodland kingdom, which is sprawling across the top of two bookcases these days.

A Calcifer mug to keep minty-honey tea hot (or Totoro or Jiji). 

An Otamatone, which is a Japanese toy synthesizer that looks like the happy offspring of an eighth note and a salamander, so that they can perform retro hits.

Runamok syrup infused with edible mica, to make waffles glitter.

A pack of pencils by Duncan Shotten that sharpen into rainbows and a book that explains what to draw and how to draw it.

Cozy kicks that will always be easy to spot in the boots-off pile.

A leafy green they may actually be willing to embrace.

*Editor's note: All eight-year-olds I have met are, in fact, exuberantly eccentric! It is a great age.

*

One more indulgence: These funny gift guides are an annual delight to compile for all of you anonymous folks out there. I don't make any money from them—no affiliate links, no placements, nada! I'm an online renegade!—but if they have brought you joy or amusement, please consider making a donation to Doctors Without Borders. I'm donating what I can, too, and holding the people of Palestine, Ukraine, and Sudan in my heart. Thank you.

gifts for web-weavers / way-finders / wellsprings / mothers

Wildflower seeds for turning lawns into meadows (or mini meadows).

Sabahar's multitasker towel/wrap/picnic blanket with all the colors of the rainbow.

Eley Kishimoto x Niwaki Flash kantan bag for chic-er schlepping. 

Montbell lock-on sandals for summer days and splash parks. (I also like the slip-on purple variety.)

A stacked-stone nightlight by Solid Space Glass for sitting up late.

Cobble Mountain Summit hammock chair for hanging around, with a copy of Lukaza Branfman-Verissimo's we web keepers.

A Beklina ball cap that might actually keep the sun off.

Earrings that trace irregular paths, by Shannon Bond.

A prism for catching the light.

A woman stepping gingerly forward; a field of tender flowers. (Motherhood?) Jon Beachem, Cadence of Spring. 

*

Other gifts some mothers may enjoy: 2017 / 2018 / 2019 / 2020 / 2021 / 2022

Related: Choosing motherhood.

gifts (and giving) for strict pedestrians*

 

Ethically made shoes that can take some mileage, and a gift to an organization that works around the world to "build health systems in solidarity, not charity."

Foldable sunglasses that can be stashed in a pocket, and the gift of clear sight.

A parka made by a climate-positive company, and a gift to communities on the frontlines of climate change. 

Reflector badges plus a vest to stay seen, and a gift to shelter those unfairly made vulnerable by visibility.

Ceramic travel mugs for hot drinks on the go, and a gift to pottery workshop creating paid work for formerly incarcerated folks.

High performance socks for warm feet, and a gift to help families keep the heat on.

A gentle guidebook on walking as meditation, and a gift that supports mental wellness.

A box of the most delicious pretzels for post-walk snacks, and a gift that keeps food on the table.

A soak for sore muscles inspired by women divers, and a gift to help those on perilous seas.

A solar-powered light to brighten dark paths, and a gift to support the shift to solar power.

A bandana to encourage trekking onwards and upwards, and a gift to help every kid get outdoors. 

A whistle for emergencies, and a gift to help others find safety in times of crisis. 

*In my family, we have a longstanding in-joke that our religious denomination is pedestrian, an identity claimed outright after a childhood experience listening to shiny-faced minister at my grandparents' Baptist church preach a sermon about the "Cadillac of Jesus" running down "the infidel." He gleefully enumerated a long and very specific list of people who would be hit, and I leaned over and asked my dad what we were. His answer? "Pedestrians." 

To my mind, being a pedestrian requires walking whenever possible, observing, and being present in the world around you. Over the years, my pedestrian practice has ranged from the orthodox (five years car-free) to the casual. These days, I am strict pedestrian, walking 15,000 steps a day, while also trying to find ways to walk alongside those who need it.