The Christmas Gifts I'd Actually Give

This sounds obvious.

Apparently it isn't.

If someone has decorated their entire home in earthy colours, please don't arrive with an enormous bright-pink decorative pot because it happened to be in the Christmas gift section.

Look at their house.

What colours do they use? Is their style minimal or maximalist? Do they have pets you need to consider? Do they drink coffee? Do they read? What do they always order? What do they spend their Sunday doing? What have they mentioned wanting but never quite bought?

That's where I start.

Not with what can I buy for €50?

But with what would this particular person genuinely enjoy?

My first thought is usually fragrance.

A genuinely beautiful scented candle feels luxurious without adding another permanent object to someone's house.

Diptyque and Jo Malone are exactly the sort of candles I would be happy to give.

Another favourite is flowers.

I love giving a large seasonal field bouquet.

But there is a practical question I ask before turning up with half a meadow: Do they own a vase big enough for it?

If I'm not sure, the vase becomes part of the present.

That's a tiny detail, but it changes the gift from here is something you now need to solve into something they can enjoy immediately.

This may be my favourite way to make a present feel more thoughtful.

Don't give someone the beginning of an errand.

Give them the whole experience.

A Chemex is a good example.

I think it's a brilliant gift for someone who loves coffee and would enjoy slowing the process down a little.

But I wouldn't necessarily put a Chemex in a box and stop there.

I'd make a basket.

Chemex. The correct filters. Really good coffee, freshly ground for the method at a local coffee shop. Perhaps a beautiful mug.

Everything they need.

The next morning they can wake up and actually use their present.

The best gift baskets don't contain more things. They remove the missing things.

Coffee people are particularly fun to buy for because there are so many ways to make an everyday ritual slightly better.

A Chemex starter basket would be high on my list.

Good beans from somewhere local. A beautiful mug.

Or, if you know they're already deeply invested in their coffee setup, something they've specifically wanted rather than another gadget that will live in a cupboard.

Know your audience.

Fragrance can be an incredible present.

It can also be an incredibly expensive way of discovering you don't know someone nearly as well as you thought.

I buy Bas a fragrance almost every Christmas.

Sometimes we choose it together. Sometimes I choose because I know what he likes.

Over the years he's moved away from body sprays towards fragrances from houses such as YSL, Chanel and Dior.

I like fragrance to feel a little distinctive.

I don't particularly want my husband smelling exactly like the man next door.

But perfume is personal.

I'm very interested in niche fragrance myself, and that makes me even more cautious about buying a full bottle for somebody else.

Something like Kilian can be very expensive.

If they hate it, we may both need a little cry.

So unless you know their taste extremely well, go smaller.

A hand cream is much safer.

A discovery set can be much more fun.

I used to do this for my nieces when they were right in the middle of the TikTok-beauty-trend age.

I'd shop somewhere like Sephora when I was in Düsseldorf or London and collect mini versions of the products and brands they were interested in.

Individually, they're small.

Together, they make a brilliant stocking.

And the budget stays much more manageable than buying full-size versions of everything.

Minis are particularly good when the fun is in trying something.

A stocking filler should feel like a treat, not household inventory.

This is where I could quite happily lose an afternoon.

Go to a proper delicatessen, farm shop or specialist food shop and build the present yourself.

I love gift baskets because they let you make something extremely personal.

A cooking magazine. A good biscuit. Tea or freshly ground coffee. A beautiful mug. A piece of cheese from a local shop. Chocolate. A bottle of wine. A little liqueur. Perhaps cigars, if that's genuinely their thing.

The exact combination doesn't matter.

That's the point.

A hamper should look like the person receiving it, not the hamper section of a department store.

I wouldn't automatically buy another object for someone who loves cosy evenings at home.

I might give them something to do at home instead.

An old-fashioned jigsaw puzzle.

An adult colouring book with genuinely good pencils or markers.

Something tactile and offline that gives them permission to spend an afternoon doing very little else.

Again, match the hobby to the person.

I like books as presents, but I don't think person reads = buy random book is enough.

Give them something you've read and genuinely think they'll love.

Find a beautiful edition of something you know matters to them.

Choose a cookbook because they love that particular kind of cooking.

Or give them the freedom to choose for themselves.

A recommendation attached to a book is part of the gift.

I loved this and thought of you means considerably more than this was on the bestseller table.

This is where knowing someone's taste becomes non-negotiable.

If I were buying glassware, for example, I would happily give some of the Anthropologie glasses I own myself. They're unusual, beautiful and not something everyone already has.

But only to someone whose home they actually suit.

Homeware is not automatically a safe present simply because everybody has a home.

You're choosing something that will live in their space.

Pay attention to that space.

Bas loves LEGO.

Over the years I've given him pieces that have gradually become our LEGO Christmas village.

One year, I gave him the Home Alone house.

It was expensive.

Very expensive.

But he was intensely happy with it.

He loves building LEGO, we both love the film, it comes out as part of our Christmas decorations and it added another piece to something we'd already been collecting.

That's exactly when I think a big present makes sense.

Not because big present is a category you need to fill.

Because you've found the thing.

I need to defend kitchen presents here.

A practical household appliance you didn't ask for? Dangerous territory.

An extravagant piece of kitchen equipment connected to something you genuinely love? Completely different.

Bas gave me the pasta attachment for my KitchenAid.

It's the kind of thing that costs enough that I probably wouldn't casually buy it for myself.

But I wanted it.

I use it for something I enjoy.

That makes it a luxury rather than a chore.

The difference between a practical gift and a brilliant practical gift is whether it serves an obligation or a pleasure.

Cleaning equipment.

No.

Things for the car that someone simply needs.

Also no.

Household necessities masquerading as presents because somebody has wrapped them.

Absolutely not.

If the recipient specifically asked for something, that's different.

But otherwise, Christmas is not the moment to announce: I noticed your life contained an administrative requirement.

A present can be useful.

It just shouldn't feel like another job.