For the first time in several years I was able to buy gifts for some of my family and friends. To Mexico I sent money, in Spain I bought thoughtful gifts which I somehow would want for myself. For example, once we were getting ready to go to a Christmas party with friends when my girlfriend commented offhand "I wish I had black tennis shoes" because she put on a pair of comfy neon pink new balances over a semi-formal attire.
I honestly remarked that I loved her look (it places comfort over glamour), but I took notice of her comment. I spied on her shoe size and then went shopping for shoes at a high-end shoe store at which I've always wanted to buy shoes for myself, Camper. I oogled over men's shoes before buying her a beautiful pair semi-formal tennis shoes which would have matched her outfit that day.
For my roommate I wanted to buy a Moka pot. She uses her old aluminum moka pot with an adapter for the induction stove, the plastic rings are worn out and is in general need of replacement. I went to El Corte Inglés (a department store) and pained over what to buy for her. She is a designer with a taste for the unique. A Bialetti pot seemed to fit the bill, but I had the nagging feeling it would be a faux pas. Bialetti has gone the way of Moleskine, not really caring about craft or innovation, investing instead in marketing and placement. I left the store empty handed and the next day I scourged the internet for something functional and beautiful. Finally I came across the Alessi 9090 by Richard Sapper, a name I didn't know, but whose work most definitely we would both like.
I didn't want this to become an entry where I boast about the two miserly gifts I'm giving this Christmas after a hiatus because of poverty, but this is what has come out of me. I will add fuel to the fire by saying that I hate being gifted things I don't like, especially from people I love and who I would expect them to know better.
I wonder if anyone else feels the same disappointment. My father used to gift me a sweater every Christmas. It was a yearly reminder that my father didn't know anything about me. I told my sister: I'll tell dad that I don't appreciate a sweater every year". My sister said "Oh, that's not his fault, it's his personal assistant who does his Christmas gift shopping". Then I was truly disappointed.