WE HATE-READ THE GOOP HOLIDAY GIFT GUIDE (AGAIN)
Everyone has their favorite holiday traditions. Maybe it’s skating in Millennium Park, or drinking too much mulled wine at the Christkindlmarkt, or finding new games to play on Christmas Eve so your family can continue to avoid talking about what’s really bothering everyone, or ranking the Love Actually subplots from most to least problematic.
My favorite holiday tradition is hate-reading the Goop Holiday Gift Guide, a paean to excess, the cringiest parts of “wellness culture” and a perpetually unanswered “who is this even for??” As with last year, I have taken the most extra and cringiest gifts and presented them so you, like me, can stew in the strange mélange of disdain, mockery, rage and jealousy that this guide provides. Happy holidays!
So I know charcoal has all these purifying qualities and is some kind of miracle substance, but just, like, think about the optics of this gift for a second. If you were to gift this, you would literally be leaving a lump of coal in someone’s stocking.
The wellness section of the Goop guide is always a treasure trove of Goop at its Goopiest, where you usually see all the Moon Dust and Jade Eggs. (Speaking of which, there is also a “For Lovers” section this year that is chock full of vibrators, and I was actively relieved to see Gwyneth hawking products that are supposed to be in or around your genitals, for once.)
Anyway, the politics of “conscious consumerism” are complicated, and alternatives to single-use plastics are a good idea, but leave it to Goop to make something well-intentioned just so, so extra. Even the sea turtles would just look at you using that and be like, “Dude. Come on.”
“Look, Sparky, I know you’re still dealing with the residual trauma of whatever horrifying experience befell you before we picked you up from the shelter, but… have you considered trying CBD?”
It’s not the gift itself, which admittedly looks cool despite being way too expensive; it’s just wild to me that this is in the “HOST GIFTS” section:
“Thank you both for coming to my holiday party!”
“You’re welcome! Here, have this bespoke leather wood tote that will look ever so warm and luxurious next to your fireplace.”
“And here. I brought you a bottle of wine. It was $3 and I picked it up from a CVS on the way here because I didn’t want to be an asshole. It probably tastes like the bitter divorce between Manischewitz and lighter fluid. Happy Christmas.”
My Aunt Cyd makes matzo ball soup for every Jewish holiday, and it is delicious. I feel comfortable telling the entire Internet that her matzo ball soup is the best matzo ball soup. Fight me, cowards.
I’m not here to hate on the foods of my people, or suggest that matzo products out of season are a bad idea. My aunt’s soup taught me otherwise. But, again, like with the charcoal filter thing, gifts inevitably say something about how the giver sees the recipient. And, to me, what this gift says to the recipient is, “I care about you and respect your wonderful, rich culture so much that I got you this box of mostly-edible cardboard that needs a sinus-ravaging amount of horseradish before you taste or feel anything at all and will turn your intestines to limestone.”
$55 gold leaf rolling papers
This product feels like a heavy-handed metaphor for the way America continues to imprison scores of people of color on minor drug-related charges while former career politicians and sentient Silicon Valley manbuns accumulate even more wealth by investing in the weed industry. I bet the kind of people who would pay to go hear John Boehner talk about growhouse acquisitions would use these.
A portable butter churner
Look, if I wanted to live in the 19th century, I’d just vote Republican. ZING!
A clip-on bidet
At last, Goop officially makes the transition from Holiday Gifts for Assholes to… Holiday Gifts for Assholes.
The $139,000 “Land Ark” RV
*insert commentary here about how people who live in mobile homes or caravans in most parts of the U.S. and U.K. are perceived largely by society as ‘white trash’ and get uncomfortable, voyeuristic reality shows made about them but ohhhhho, if you live in a tiny house or a fancy camper you’re just a ~*~FrEe SpIrIt~*~ who doesn’t NEED all that STUFF weighing you down, you can just drop SIX FIGURES on an RV with wood paneling and stainless steel appliances that costs more than most people’s houses and make money by being an INFLUENCER and get paid to take selfies in Marfa or Antelope Canyon or whatever*
A “vacation” where you’re dropped into an undisclosed destination in the environment of your choice and have to find your way back
Imagine having your life be so comfortable and lush that you literally pay tens of thousands of dollars to be dropped in the middle of a remote jungle just so you can actually *feel* something. If you want to feel some solace and disconnect for a while, call me and I will throw your phone into a fountain like Anne Hathaway at the end of The Devil Wears Prada, and I will do that for free.
An actual village in Galicia, Spain
Our own incoming elected representatives can’t afford to pay rent in DC without a U.S. Congressman’s salary. Douse the 1% in cranberry sauce and eat them. Happy Holidays!