The holiday season marks its arrival in many ways: the sound of cicadas, the appearance of mince pies in bakery windows, a Netflix romcom in which a successful career woman falls in love with an anthropomorphic chimney or snowman. But for me, the holidays begin in the most magical place of all – my inbox.

As soon as the Halloween spam clears (“There’s nothing spooky about these savings”) the real meaning of Christmas can begin to be celebrated in its purest form: gift guides.

Starting around November, (although they seem to be appearing earlier each year) every store, influencer and publication I’ve passingly interacted with reaches out with important news. They are here to assist me in my search for the perfect present for every person in my life.

And they mean every person. I don’t often think of anyone in my life as a “theme-park enthusiast who has everything”. But if I need to shop for one, Vulture helpfully suggests an Animatronic Mini Songbird for $595.

In theory, I don’t hate the tradition of gift guides. Christmas shopping can be overwhelming and finding unique, thoughtful gifts that people wouldn’t just buy themselves in June is tough. The intentions of them may even be good, with the real hope of helping someone. But tensions arise when it becomes clear that the marketing teams sending these emails don’t exist in the same universe as I do.

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Last year I got my dad a book about the Trojan War. This year, he requested a model aeroplane kit. That all felt relatively straightforward until I read that what a dad with lots of hobbies actually wants is a $935 Mackage Travis Perpendicular Channel Quilt Down Jacket.

Shopping for my best friend, I faced a similar disconnect between my reality and these consumer fantasies. Most years I give him a candle, which until now felt personal and a little luxe. But reading Vogue’s annual gift guide, I’m informed that if I want to score “major best friend brownie points” I should be purchasing a $540 Bottega Veneta Cassette intrecciato cardholder.

According to Elle, the number one gift recommendation for 2024 is an $849 Dyson Airwrap multi-styler and dryer. They note it’s a perfect treat for the “curl curator” in my life – a category of loved ones I embarrassingly have neglected in the past. RUSSH also recommends a Dyson product, although its pick is the Wash G1 self-cleaning electric wet floor cleaner (a great way to spend almost $1000 and run the high risk of deeply offending someone). If you don’t have a grand to splurge, follow GQ’s ideas for “no-fail gifts for women” and buy the $360 Master Plan Collagen Renew Serum that mimics “baby filler”.