Meet the 2026 Gift Edits

We all know one. These are the gifts for the characters in our lives, chosen with love and only a little judgement.

The IT Girl.

Was carrying the bag six months before the waitlist existed. Calls her style “just something I threw on” and her stylist “a friend”. Has a corner table at every new opening in Soho and a phone full of numbers that start with “+33”. Insists she “doesn’t really follow trends”, which is true, because the trends follow her. Effortless to a fault, and the fault takes three hours.

Think a suede bag, ballet flats and a bag charm, all of which she’ll claim she’s had for ages.

Jet Set Pets.

Has more air miles than you and a better coat. Travels in the cabin, never the hold, and refuses to fly with any airline that doesn’t offer a water bowl. Is recognised by the doorman at the Ritz and on first-name terms with the concierge at the Hôtel du Cap. Has an Instagram following you’d sell your soul for and a groomer booked in three time zones. Spoilt to a fault, and the fault is entirely yours.

Think a monogrammed carrier, a cashmere jumper and a leather lead, all of which will travel better than you do.

The Black Card Boyfriend

Always picks up the bill and never checks it. Calls his job “consulting” and his flat “a little pied-à-terre”. Has a table at every restaurant in Mayfair and a standing tee time at a club his grandfather founded. Insists he’s “self-made”, apart from the start-up capital, the flat and the surname. Generous to a fault, and the fault is Daddy’s.

Think a leather wallet for the card that isn’t technically his, cufflinks and a whisky decanter.

The Mindful Movers.

Has the 7am reformer class booked a month ahead and a matcha order the barista knows by heart. Owns more matching sets than actual clothes. Talks about cortisol at dinner parties and leaves before dessert. Their idea of a big night is a bath, a magnesium spray and lights out at 9:58. Very zen, very toasted, very much not answering their phone after nine.

Think grip socks, a silk sleep mask and a glass water bottle for the three litres they’ll tell you about.

The Weekend Farmer.

Leaves the city every Friday “to get back to the land”, meaning a barn conversion with underfloor heating. The chickens are named after TV chefs. The wellies have never met real mud. They’re back in Notting Hill by Sunday night, for a quick Fat Badger appearance, swearing they could never do London full-time. Then they do London full-time.

Think a suede weekend bag, countryside socks and a holiday house guest book, the full country kit for a postcode that’s firmly W11.