It’s that magical time of year again, folks!
That time when Gwyneth Paltrow, the world’s most out-of-touch celebrity, puts out her annual Gift Guide on her website, affectionately known as GOOP.
I couldn’t help but treat myself to a little perusal of her recommendations, including the usual $800 bandanas (not a typo) and purses that cost as much as my car. I’ve done you the favor of selecting a few highlights that I feel best exemplify the delightful stroll through insanity that is the GOOP holiday gift guide, where dreams and delusions really do come true.
For the traveller:
GOOP says: “Pretty handsome, regardless of time zone”
And we’re off to the races! This watch is probably totally worth it. My children may be snivelling and shivering on the streets after I can’t afford to feed or house them any more, but at least I can give my husband a nice watch for him to completely ignore as he continues to check the time on his phone like every other human being since the dawn of cellular technology.
For the hostess:
GOOP says: “This is a pretty big upgrade on the standard cooler.”
I’d have to agree on this one. When you’re just throwing a rager for a bunch of shithoused college friends, your standard cooler will do just fine. But when you’re kidnapping healthy young strangers and keeping them alive for days on end so their organs can be harvested for the black market, you want a somewhat more hospitable vessel for them to relax in as they while away their last moments alive. That IS how she’s making her money, isn’t it? It can’t be her movies. BOOOOM! Cheap shot.
For the art lover:
GOOP says: “We’re obsessed with everything glass artist Lindsey Adelman makes.”
Oh, good. Something for my homeless children to collect change in.
For the newborn:
GOOP says: “Everything Mini Rodini makes is so cute it hurts.”
I’ll say it hurts. It hurts when you pay $93 for a garment the size of a tea towel that your godforsaken rugrat will inevitably outgrow in mere minutes, tearing the sideseams Hulk-style as they increase to dangerous sizes. My kid is wearing a potato sack and sleeping in a dresser drawer until they are at least of marriageable age. It will build character.
For the budding musician:
GOOP says: “Because everyone should know how to play the accordion.”
Everyone whose parents are rarely in the house, that is. Have fun babysitting, Lupe!
For the preteen boy:
GOOP says: “For your young survivalist.”
Well, by gum, back in my day, we used to fashion our own slingshots out of pieces of driftwood. We’d carry them in our rucksacks as we walked to school, uphill, both ways, in the snow, barefoot, to fend off the wild grizzly bears that would descend upon us and try to tear our slimy bits out. But no, go ahead and buy yours. I’m sure you’re a real outdoorsman.
For the gamer:
GOOP says: “Everyone is always pretty excited to open a little orange box: The goal here is to reconstruct your set by trading cards.”
$125 for a card game may sound pricey, but it’s nothing compared to the price tag on the amount of booze and prostitutes you’re going to have to buy with it in order to make this game fun to play.
Also, is there some sort of rich person in-joke here? Why would I be excited to open a little orange box?
EDIT: I have just used the Googles to confirm that Hermès products do indeed come in little orange boxes. It’s like a glimpse into another world.
For the houseguest:
GOOP says: “For impromptu houseguests and piling up kids in front of the TV.”
For the layman, a “throwbed” is essentially a giant, squishy clusterfuck of padded blankets that you keep wadded up in your linen closet until your least favorite relative comes to call. Sure, you just spent over a grand on a fucking watch, but that doesn’t mean Grandma gets to sleep in a REAL bed. What do we look like, royalty?
For the sex addict:
GOOP says: “Kinky indeed.”
There are cheaper ways to put out the message, “My personal sex life is unsatisfying, please God someone help me.” I myself am partial to fighting my way into NFL lockers rooms during half time wearing only a pair of crotchless fishnets and screaming “THE BUFFET IS NOW OPEN, BOYS.”
GOOP says: “A totally chic, wearable blanket.”
Oh, GOOPy. You lovable wacko. If I was going to drape myself in a blanket and walk around in public (which I most certainly am not above doing) why, oh why, would I not just purchase one of the actual blankets you mention earlier in your gift guide for literally 1/16th of the price?
Ah, yes. I almost forgot. Because we live in a world of magic and whimsy, a world only visible through the deranged eyes of Gwyneth Paltrow.