Please, Stop Giving People Novelty Gifts
It's a waste of money and resources – and in any case, I'd prefer a nice candle, thanks.
I can think of nothing but Christmas. Living in the States – Irish people in America must refer to it as “the States”, in case you didn’t get the memo – means that Christmas starts abominably early (but as you’ll already know, I’m into that now), thanks, in no small part, to Thanksgiving.
Thanksgiving is a funny one. I don’t quite understand it myself, beyond the rudimentary explanation I gleaned from the episode of Buffy in which a member of the fictional Chumash tribe comes back from the dead to avenge the elimination of his tribe. It seems bad to me, but really, what do I know?
Other things I learned from Buffy, incidentally, include the importance of fully researching the gypsy curse your boyfriend is under before consummating your relationship; and that computer scanners can release demons from the books into which they were bound by monks, centuries ago. Or something.
Anyway, I’m thinking a lot about Christmas because it is Thanksgiving this week and that is the time that us Americans (as a person who now lives in the States, and for the purpose of considering festive tradition, I am now counting myself among that number) put up our Christmas trees and the classic hits radio station I quite enjoy because it frequently plays Phil Collins switches to playing exclusively Christmas “hits” and I must instead brave the “alt” radio station which considers Maroon 5 “alt” for some inexplicable reason.
Yesterday, we went to Menards and purchased an expensive fake Christmas tree. When you put your Christmas tree up in November, it can’t really be a real tree unless you’re willing to water it regularly, and I’m having enough trouble keeping my Instagram-friendly Monstera alive, tku.
Anyway, not only have we purchased our Christmas tree – which will be assembled this evening, and decorated tomorrow evening by the children (I am having trouble accepting this, honestly, and would really rather decorate it myself while listening to Bing Crosby) – but I have started to purchase Christmas gifts, and am currently hoarding things like Bluey plushies and Sesame Street characters and cushion covers with cartoon cats all over them (not classed as novelty gifts, as they are for children) on the top shelf of my wardrobe.
In the car on the way home from my sister’s house, where we ate apple pie – “Did you do this lattice yourself?” my Dad asked the baker, my husband, as if Americans had access to some secret lattice machine us Irish peasants have never heard of – Brandin and I discussed what to get his family members for Christmas.
“I’m vetoing novelty gifts this year,” I said to him. “It’s such a waste of money – and people just don’t end up using them!”
“But my mom is just so hard to buy for!” he complained, reminiscing about the Heat Miser doll he bought her last year, which then meant we all had to watch A Year Without Santa Claus on Christmas morning. I wonder where that doll is now. It would be rude to ask; the one rule of giving novelty gifts is that we absolutely do not talk about said novelty gifts.
“Why don’t we buy her a nice blanket? She’s always saying her house is cold,” I suggested, which he agreed was a good idea. It didn’t seem to me like she was that hard to buy for, after all.
I wonder how many Heat Miser plush dolls are currently taking up space in some South American landfill; how many people end up regifting the retro lava lamps that are seeing a resurgence in popularity; or just what happens to all of the retro Game Boy phone covers, once the novelty has – and it definitely will – worn off.
I can’t remember any novelty gifts I’ve been given – although I can remember the sting of irritation I felt upon receiving them – which should, in and of itself, say a lot.
Not to be twee about it, but I do, instead, remember the blanket my cousin crocheted for me as a gift; the piece of art a friend commissioned one Christmas; the ring my Mum and Dad bought me as a graduation gift, a gold band with a flower made of tiny garnet stones; the Terry’s Chocolate Orange a friend posted me last Christmas, along with a pack of Odlums scone mixture.
It’s not that a gift must be expensive – that’s not the argument here – but it’s that, in my opinion, Christmas gift-giving is no joke. There is a certain joy in carefully selecting gifts for the people you love, and in receiving gifts from those same people in return. It ruins things when your reaction to said gift is to laugh uproariously before forgetting about it altogether, and leaving it behind in Grandma’s, never to be picked up (even though you’ll keep promising to do just that).
And if, like Brandin, you never know what to buy someone, a good rule of thumb – as my sister and I concluded in a recent episode of our podcast – is to think back through the gifts they’ve given you. Chances are, what they’ve bought is a reflection more on their own tastes and wants, which they have then reflected on to you, than it is on yours.
I will acknowledge that I have fallen into the novelty gift trap more than once. My Dad, in particular, has been the very gracious recipient of far too many Volkswagen campervan-themed items (including, for Christmas 2019, a Lego campervan he was then forced to assemble in front of a rapt audience) simply because he once had the audacity to own a Volkswagen campervan.
This year, things will be different. Everyone will get thoughtful gifts, I promise. There won’t be a glittery elf poop in sight.
The one “novelty” gift for which I will make an exception is: Poo-Pourri. That shit – if you’ll excuse the pun – really works.
Christmas 2019 I think I got one present that I was surprised & delighted with. I always give my husband huge hints so his gifts are never a surprise but at least I know I will use what I get. That Christmas after being disappointed with all except one gift I decided I also needed to put more effort into my gifts. I guess just to be more thoughtful .....
On a slightly related note, please don’t buy personalised clothes for my baby. It doesn’t feel right giving them to someone else or to charity with my child’s name on them and they will only end up in clothes mountain landfill when my child grows out of them in 3 months :(