A Last-Minute Gift Guide for People Who (Mostly) Don’t Need More Stuff

December is a strange time of year.

Danielle and Céline’s credit cards keep levitating, seemingly of their own accord, out of our back-of-phone wallets and into ShopPay checkout fields that we obediently fill out in fugue states. We desire for rich hot chocolate to appear on command, followed by the theatrical splash of a single, giant cubed marshmallow. We imagine ourselves, in Palo Alto, sitting by a fireplace (that neither of us has) and drinking endless cups of tea—literal and metaphorical—into the night. In our hallucinations, the air smells faintly of conifer needles and Christmas negronis—juniper, citrus peel, and tastable candlelight.

December is a time of year when we tell ourselves, half-sincerely, that love can be conveyed through tasteful, thoughtful purchases from charming boutiques.

And yet, inevitably, we find ourselves scrambling to the nearest mall, for whatever we haven’t purchased on Amazon, on December 24th, clutching another cheugy Anthropology candle that smacks of Christmas—and not in a good way. In a high-fructose-corn-syrup-red-40 kind of way. We’re just doing our best.

December is also a time of year that oddly insists on performance. Made worse by Spotify wrapped, Canva wrapped, Granola wrapped... Beneath them all lies a unifying desire: don’t we all just want to be known? And isn’t that desire what gift-giving, at its best, attempts to satisfy? The best gifts seem to say: I love you, and, more importantly, I see you.

We’ve found the best gifts that resist vacant consumerism and, instead, relay attention. Welcome to Artificial Whimsy’s first annual holiday gift guide. Here’s what we’re giving this year:

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For the Céline to your Danielle, or the Danielle to your Céline

A bracelet.

It all started with a diagram in October of 2024. Danielle had had a painful interaction, and Céline relayed what she had learned from her after-class conversation with her organizational behavior professor about the power of corrective relational experiences. If all you know are painful relationships, then all you know to seek are painful relationships. But if you encounter a comforting relationship, suddenly your realm of the possible expands.

Each of us is the other’s Circle A, the corrective experience that disputes the negative stories we tell ourselves, and that proves our worthiness of a love that warms, nourishes, and sustains.

So, this Christmas, we got each other matching bracelets with interlocking circles. Find your Circle A buddy. Give them a hug. And maybe a symbolic, slightly esoteric friendship bracelet. Who says we’re too old?

For someone who buys everything they want for themselves

You cannot, try as you may, outspend this person. So get them something surprising, something delightfully out of their comfort-zone, something they would like but never otherwise would have considered. Tickets to the Ruth Asawa exhibit, or a trip to the Mystery Spot in Santa Cruz.

For your crush

Céline’s first-ever gift to her now-boyfriend of five-plus years was a Nike headband.

She will be the first to tell you that this gift, presented 22 days before things were made official, was pretty embarrassing. He roasted her for it until at least the next birthday.

Danielle’s first-ever gift to her now-boyfriend of four-plus years was a hot pot. She thought it would be cute to bond over their heritage and cook with it. He returned it.

Our gift to you: avoid utility and do better than us.

For your friend crush

At the risk of erring on the side of performative male reading on the G train: an easy but deep read. Danielle has given Letters to a Young Poet and Invisible Cities. She knows these are cheap shots. She’s received much better ones—Kartography, Landmarks and Hopscotch, to name a few.

Céline has given James, The Heaven & Earth Grocery Store, and Perfection. Also, she’s now on the fourth book of Elena Ferrante’s Neopolitan Novels series, which is literally entirely about friendship, so those could be good.

The best gift would be to read the same book, or really to experience the same aesthetic event, and to be able to talk about it.¹ Danielle and Céline went to see Hamnet together, and there’s something bonding about sobbing side-by-side in the theatre and processing afterwards over a carafe of tea.

For your co-founder crush

Touch grass.

Nothing operational, no Zero to One or The Venture Mindset. Take them on a hiking date, a road trip. Get to know the human before you get to know the company.

DZ in grass

For someone whose entire personality is their dog

Something unrelated to their dog. They (Céline and Nick) get enough presents for their dog. Below: said dog, opening said presents:

That said, if you’re lazy, Danielle just gifted a pet portrait painting class and personalized dog throw pillows. Sometimes leaning in is the move.

For someone who performatively reads

Infinite Jest, except they probably already own it. Try Solvej Balle’s experimental, multi-part novel On the Calculation of Volume and make them an origami page-corner bookmark.

A Clairo fan (synonym for the above)

A paper-thin tote advertising a literary zine they haven’t read yet. (Should we make Whimsy totes???)

For someone who needs to be returned to their body

A stargazing kit. Just a small reminder that we’re on a giant orbital object hurtling through space.

Source: xkcd

For someone who struggles to care for themselves

Anything to take them out of their head and bring them back to their senses: a massage, a cold plunge, a full-body scrub-down at a Korean spa, a home-cooked meal, an indulgent meal out, a wine-tasting class, a set of strong cheeses, a candle (not Anthropology, but maybe two birds with one stone with a Maude massage candle), a custom perfume, a fuzzy blanket, a ticket to the symphony, a comedy night, a hot yoga class.

For someone who needs to unclench their jaw

Masseter Botox. Also acceptable: sauna passes and weighted, warmable eye masks.

For the host(ess) with the most(est)

Good cocktail glasses and a framed picture of a recipe or menu they’ve created.

For a newborn tiny person who cannot yet appreciate objects

Contribute to a 529 or custodial account in the baby’s name, with a note: This is for the year you decide to live abroad, or I hope this helps you study what you love. Compound interest is the real Christmas miracle, baby.

For the MBA

Cash. Cold. Hard. Cash.

Someone you’ve lost touch with

In Winning Writing, a class both Danielle and Céline took last quarter, one of the most unexpectedly moving exercises was writing a thank-you note to someone we haven’t spoken to in years. Danielle wrote one to her sorority grand-big turned successful TikToker, and Céline to her eighth-grade English teacher. The responses were immediate and heartfelt. You owe someone an overdue thank you. Don’t let it go unsaid.

For the friend who’s late to everything (@Danielle)

A nice clock.

A crappy clock.

Screw it. Some DIY IOU cards for their chronic problem.

The Salvador Dalí melting clock necklace from MoMA is also perfect. While thinking of ideas for this topic, Danielle was probably late to something.

For someone who always needs a sweet treat

Dandelion hojicha hot chocolate. Fun fact: Danielle used to bring hojicha to Whimsy writing sessions; Céline would bring matcha. We’ve been dying to try this Christmas twist.

Also, really good vitamins—try these yummy raspberry magnesium ones made by our classmate.

For the health hyper-optimizer

A comically unoptimized object, like a hand-crank flashlight. Or, a piece of jewelry that is just beautiful and not a health-data-tracking-device.

For someone who wants to “get back into reading”

Danielle recommends Fourth Wing. Yes, really. Plot-forward, emotionally…sticky, the goal here is momentum, folks!

Céline recommends Of Mice and Men. Timeless story. Gorgeous writing. Super short. It’s what sucked her into reading, and it’s what can suck your friend back into it, too.

Céline and Danielle, spiritually

For the ChatGPT-assisted LinkedIn poet

George Orwell’s “Politics and the English Language” and Stephen King’s On Writing. Plus a blank, analog notebook and Danielle’s favorite nugget pen. Céline uses pencil, and has her whole life, because pens are for the insane.

For someone with generic hobbies

Their entire personality is hiking, or pickleball, or marathons. They probably live in San Francisco.

Take them on a leisurely bike ride where you pick up various trinkets along the way, teach them a new racquet-and-ball sport like squash, or go to the pool! Some of Danielle’s and Céline’s best days together were spent doing these things, particularly at the Stanford pool, alternating between lying on the grass and gossiping and sharing a lap lane (read: playing mermaids).

Said pool

For someone whose Spotify wrapped…gave you pause

Did Taylor Swift’s The Life of a Showgirl appear on their wrapped because they…rage-listened to it so many times? That is, in our humble opinion, the [read: Celine’s] only reasonable explanation for anyone’s [read: Danielle’s doing] such a thing. “Did you girlboss too close to the sun” is a crazy lyric. The image is Icarus…but make him girlboss? Oxford’s Word of the Year this year was “rage bait”; it’s an apt descriptor of this songwriting.

Anyway, an intervention might be good here.

For the conscious consumer who uses way too many paper towels

Literally just a bunch of bar mop towels and some OxiClean White Revive (and no, this isn’t a Sydney Sweeney ad sort of thing—don’t even get us started).

For someone who’s absolutely cooked their attention span

A screening of The Brutalist. 3 hours and 35 minutes—plus an intermission—of aesthetic greatness. This movie is the hill that Céline will die on. An ekphrastic² film that makes itself into a brutalist building. Ugh. So good. And a great antidote to 15-second TikTok reels.

For your witchy friend

Tarot cards. One of our friends had a witch-themed birthday party where we imbibed potions (wine), collected salts procured through an Etsy witch, and drew tarot. It was loads of fun.

For the constipated creative

Céline has been gifted the following: Julia Cameron’s famous The Artist’s Way, Twyla Tharp’s The Creative Habit: Learn It and Use It for Life, and Mason Currey’s Daily Rituals: How Artists Work. Each one is an expression of faith: I believe in your creativity, and my wish for you is to express it.

For Virgo boys

Omg they’re so particular. We can’t help you.

And….one last gift (to us)

If you want to give something that costs nothing and still means something:
Pick one Artificial Whimsy article that resonated with you this year and share it with 2 or 3 close friends new to Whimsy.

And if you’d like to support our work more directly, consider a paid subscription, or, for a one-off donation:

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We want to hear from you! Tell us in the comments about a gift you found that felt unusually right this year—we’re taking notes.

Happy holidays, with love,

CV & DZ

1. Secret footnote gift idea: If they’ve never been to the Frick, take them for the first time. And this is very important: have a coke together. Then show them this poem, and in particular these lines:

I look
at you and I would rather look at you than all the portraits in the world
except possibly for the Polish Rider occasionally and anyway it’s in the Frick
which thank heavens you haven’t gone to yet so we can go together for the first time

If you made it to the footnotes, congratulations, and you’re welcome for the rizz.

2. Ekphrasis is a literary description of a visual work of art. And since we’re talking about Icarus, take Pieter Bruegel the Elder’s painting Landscape with the Fall of Icarus. Some ekphrastic poems describing this painting are William Carlos Williams’ poem by the same name and W.H. Auden’s “Musée des Beaux Arts.” (You see why Taylor Swift irks me.) The Brutalist is ekphrastic in that it, too, sets out to describe, in a different medium, another art form. It is a cinematographic representation of an architectural style, a building in translation. WOWZA.