We've entered that time in December in which any visit with a friend, co-worker, relative, or even acquaintance could come accompanied by an unexpected holiday gift. Hence the need to keep a few crowd-pleasing gifts on hand. And hey, if you don't end up gifting them, hang on to them for the next occasion or, even better, gift them to yourself!
Scroll down to see 15 perfect just-in-case gifts to stock up on this holiday season!
A bin of cream-colored fluff sat on a table near the store's front entrance. My friend Teddy picked up a tuft, examined it and laughed.
"Cool!" he said. "A box of wool."
He put the wool down and moved on to an aromatherapy station, where an array of gizmos misted the air with relaxing scents. "This is nice," he said. "I feel peaceful."
"How do you normally feel when you shop?" I asked.
"Terrible."
We were visiting the new Muji store on Fifth Avenue, across the street from the magisterial New York Public Library and its crowds of tourists and lunch-eating locals.
Muji, founded in 1980 in Japan, offers what the company calls "no-brand quality goods": unembellished household items, stationery, clothing and knickknacks. Each item is packaged minimally, priced reasonably and injected with a higher dose of design intelligence than you find at most mass retailers.
There are boxes of wool to play with and potted plants purifying the air. The store soundtrack is weighted toward instrumental flute arrangements. It's like Ikea on Klonopin.
Photo Credit Jennifer S. Altman for The New York TimesOther Muji stores I've visited (there are five in New York) offer a selection of merchandise that combines the randomness of a country flea market with the utility and value of a Toyota Corolla. This is true of the new flagship, which sprawls over two floors connected by escalators.
Teddy wandered into the men's clothing section and immediately began filling a basket with socks in smoky greens and grays ($4.90). "Should I throw away all my current socks and just have Muji socks? I'm gonna do it." He added another sock to the basket. "I feel like I'm gonna buy a lot of things here." He paused again and looked down at his sock collection before saying, "But do I actually like any of this stuff?"
This is the Muji experience compressed into a bite-size truffle. As I added items to my basket — rolls of decorative indigo masking tape ($5.50), a pair of fleece indoor socks ($7.90), a porcelain toothbrush stand ($5.50) — I experienced a similar chain of thoughts: "I need this," and then "No, I don't need this," and then "Ooh, but it's so nice."
Photo Credit Jennifer S. Altman for The New York TimesThe porcelain toothbrush stand, for example. It struck me as exactly the implement I needed to keep my toothbrush standing fully erect on the bathroom counter. But wait, does my toothbrush need to stand upright on the counter at all times? Then again, it's only $5 and comes in such pleasing hues (melon, mint, peach).
Teddy and I moved on to a nook of clocks, where we faced a row of exceedingly legible timepieces. Teddy picked up a lollipop-shaped clock ($29.50). "This is not useful," he determined.
"Why not?" I asked. With its bold face and obvious time-keeping function, the lollipop clock looked like an illus tration of utility to me.
Photo Credit Jennifer S. Altman for The New York Times"Because … why would you need a clock on a stick?"
Right.
The enigma of Muji is also its allure. It combines practical items — moist towelettes, notebooks, shampoo — with items that have the promise but not the delivery of usefulness, like a shoehorn on a key ring (only $8.50, but when do you need to slip into a fancy shoe on the go?) or a silicone jam spoon (only $6.25, but who eats enough jam to warrant a specialty spoon?)
Photo Credit Jennifer S. Altman for The New York TimesHere are four rules for expedient shopping at Muji.
Avoid anything that you didn't know existed, such as a CD player with a pull cord to start the music.
Avoid anything that you didn't know you needed, such as a cylindrical cardboard storage container. (If you didn't know you needed it, you don't.)
Continue reading the main storyYou know the adage about not going to the supermarket when you're hungry? Don't go to Muji when you're bored.
Finally, use your hands. You can derive a lot of satisfaction simply by picking up items, rotating them to discover their purpose and putting them back down.
Much of the store's charm can be found in its foreign flourishes, like the inexplicable boxes of wool and the tiny shopping baskets. There are two varieties of dried squid available for impulse purchase ($2.50) at the checkout counter. An embroidery bar offers $3 custom embroidery on items purchased in-store, with available icons neatly labeled in binders: Mt. Fuji, Shrimp, Broom, a cloud (labeled "Crowd"), a frog (labeled "Flog") and dozens of others.
Hospitality is key: A meadow of beanbags at the store's entrance offers a sanctuary for customers who need to check email or take a short public nap. The beanbags — Muji calls them "body fit cushions" ($190) — are stuffed with a microbead filling that eerily replicates the sturdiness of sitting on a dad's lap.
An hour into our trip, Teddy was still unvexed by his customary shopping anxieties. He was especially pleased by Muji's policy of the softest possible sell, pointing to a bag of cookies labeled "bear shaped biscuits" as proof.
"'Bear shaped biscuits' is not only the simplest way to describe this item, but the blandest," he marveled. "It toes the line of sounding deliberately unappealing without quite crossing it."
