My Christmas, good Jew that I am, consists of a full-bore celebration with friends who have become over the years more family than those I was born to. Wendy and Michelle are the daughters of my best friend, Sondy, who died six years ago. Even before Sondy willed the girls to me and I became their Jewish mother, we were creating extravagant Christmases together. Wendy is a mini-Martha Stewart, minus the attitude, and I’m not far behind (in the aspiration–the attitude is all mine), and we milk the holiday for all it’s worth. Our tradition is to give each other stocking gifts. This sounds absolutely reasonable, controlled even, and we do mean it to be. However, excess is so much more fun and by the time we’re done, the stocking gifts have outgrown even the largest stocking. Last year we each had Stocking Bags, but even then there was spillover. So this year, Wendy found Stocking Boxes for us; we hope they will contain the overflow.
Of course the excitement of all this is in buying the Stocking Gifts. Wendy probably starts with the After Christmas sales (she is exceptionally organized), and I’m only a couple of months behind her. Whenever either of us scores a find, we call the other to report. Not what the gift was, of course, but just the fact that “Christmas Stocking activity has been taking place.”
I’ve just found a new place to shop for Stocking Gifts: The Foundary. It’s a members-only, curated home and lifestyle flash sale website that offers savings of up to 70% off retail. Their sales only last three days–or until an item is sold out–so there’s always something new to lust over. At the beginning of the week, I saw this
Isn’t that an incredibly clever way to serve cheese? It’s from Brooklyn Slate, and you can write the names of the cheeses you’re serving on it with chalk. I’d buy that for me–if I was buying myself a Stocking Gift.
I want to eat this one
Doesn’t it look edible? Like a root beer sucking candy? It’s the Allure salad bowl from ARDA Glassware, and I think it’s gorgeous enough to take a place of honor even empty.
I can’t show you what I thought would be perfect for Wendy, though. Santa doesn’t like it when you spill the beans too early.
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