Sharon’s 2020 Holiday Gift Guide

Here is a gift guide, because I felt like writing one. Did anyone ask for this? No. Do I have enough clout to justify the effort? Also no. Here it is anyway.

(If you are one of my friends or family, and you are close enough to me that it is likely I will be giving you presents in December, STOP READING!!!)

There are no affiliate links in this, because despite the weird emails I get asking me to promote stuff, I’m not an influencer. There are also no Amazon links here—that’s right, this is an AMAZON-FREE GIFT GUIDE. (Of course, most of the stuff here can be bought on Amazon, but I strongly urge you to buy from small businesses—local if possible—or at the very least, direct from the companies themselves.)

Every single item on this list is a thing I have bought or used myself, that I seriously love, and can wholeheartedly recommend. Again, there is zero monetary incentive for me to post this stuff. There isn’t a super strong theme here, although I kind of noticed that everything fits in the category of “stuff that makes life at home more enjoyable,” because travel is a distant memory at this point.

The Candle Section

As a brand-sensitive Millennial I know I’m supposed to want/gift Diptyque and Jo Malone candles, because that’s what Instagram tells me, but you know what? Candles are a total racket. We’re already overpaying for smelly wax, why not support small businesses while we’re at it? Here are candles I have actually bought and enjoyed that smell great, aren’t ridiculously overpriced, and will make you seem hip and in-the-know and not at all basic.

Sạch Candles ($22)

Sạch is a new candle company based in LA, run by a Vietnamese-American couple and featuring scents that pay homage to their heritage. They also use recyclable/sustainable materials, which I really appreciate. I recently ordered the Sophie’s Garden candle, purely for the Howl’s Moving Castle reference, and am delighted at how it makes the room smell lovely even when it’s not lit.

Ilha Candles ($25)

Ilha is a Taiwanese-American-owned company based in NYC with seriously good-smelling candles. My favorite is the Jasmine Green Tea candle—it legitimately smells like there’s a fresh pot of jasmine green tea in the room. (It’s been super confusing for me, but in a good way.) They also have a holiday collection; I got a sample of Spruce ($25) and can attest that it smells warm and pine-y and very holiday-ish.

Harlem Candle Co. ($45)

I discovered this brand via a roundup of Black-owned candle companies, and really loved the luxe packaging and double-wick construction. The scents are lovely and appropriately strong; when I lit Love in a bathroom it made the surrounding rooms smell like rose. I have not personally gotten anything from the Harlem Renaissance line yet (I’m 100% a floral scents girl) but the colors and descriptions feel very cozy and the Holiday candle, inspired by Billie Holiday, makes for a very festive Christmas present.

The Book Section


Here’s your regular PSA from me: DON’T BUY BOOKS FROM AMAZON. (If you’re not fazed by the labor rights violations or the intentional, money-losing strategy to undercut brick-and-mortar bookstores, consider that you will look like a terrible person if you end up gifting someone a counterfeit book.)

I strongly recommend buying from your favorite local indie bookstore; I have a membership to Skylight Books in LA, which gives me an eternal discount and free shipping. Other favorites that I’ve ordered from in the past: Vroman’s (also in LA), Powell’s (Portland, OR), BookPeople (Austin, TX) and Strand Books (NYC, although the owner’s record during this pandemic is very hmmm).

If buying local/indie is not a viable option for you, or you’re overwhelmed by the options, or whatever, then buy your books from—their warehouse fulfillment system works very similarly to Amazon’s and books are also sold below retail price, but the proceeds are split among independent booksellers. All my book links below go to


Like a disapproving high school English teacher, I am really disappointed that a lot of people who voiced their milquetoast support for Black Lives Matter this year ended up never doing the reading. Look, people, it’s not enough to say “Racism is bad!” and then 1) not do the bare minimum to examine your own biases and complicity (yes, it’s work, but you know what’s even more work? Being a POC in America in 2020, and we can’t opt out of that nonsense) and 2) maintain the disproportionate burden on the aforementioned POC in America in 2020 to educate others.

Anyone who would have read White Fragility or So You Want to Talk About Race or How to Be an Anti-Racist has already bought them. At this point, if you gifted those books to anyone, they would shove them to the back of their shelf and never read it, so here are some books to trick people into doing a fraction of a fraction of the anti-racist reading they should have done a long time ago.

Recommendation #1: Born a Crime: Stories From a South African Childhood by Trevor Noah
Ideal for: People who exclusively read funny celebrity memoirs and get scared off by the types of books that win literary prizes.
Notes: This was genuinely one of my favorite books this year; it’s simultaneously laugh-out-loud funny (if you were on a plane to London in January being kept awake by that weird girl huehuehue-ing in the aisle seat, sorry that was me) and unapologetically incisive about the toll of systemic racism.

Recommendation #2: Such a Fun Age by Kiley Reid
Ideal for: People who posted black squares on Instagram.
Notes: This book made me wonder if I should join a book club (I shouldn’t) just because it’s so perfect for breathless discussion. The story initially hits enough romantic fiction tropes that you think it’s another lighthearted piece of chick lit, but it ends up subverting expectations brilliantly. It also demonstrates the many nuances of benevolent/paternalistic/casual racism, the dangers of tokenism, and the many faces of the white savior complex. It also feels very grounded in our present reality, with viral videos, Instagram stalking, and hashtag-girl-power feminism playing important roles in the story.

Recommendation #3: Minor Feelings: an Asian American Reckoning by Cathy Park Hong
Ideal for: The thoughtful, compassionate ally in your life who’s gotten the basics of American Racism 101 down and is ready for the next level of complexity.
Notes: I will probably never not recommend this book, unless it turns out that Cathy Park Hong is, I dunno, a puppy-kicking monster and we have to #cancel her. I had SO MANY MOMENTS in this book where I suddenly saw my own experience described with startling clarity; I know a lot of fellow Asian-American reading friends had extremely similar experiences. I don’t know why any of us should bother trying to explain the complexity of Asian-American identity (as well as how Asian-American history is deeply intertwined with the civil rights movement and white supremacy) anymore; we should just hit people over the head with a copy this book whenever they start bumbling into Minor Feelings territory. (Basically what I’m saying is that it would be enormously beneficial if people besides Asian-Americans read this book.)

(There are, obviously, many other books that tackle ~racism and identity~ but I think these three are non-intimidating entry points for people. A reminder that I’m reviewing every book I read in 2020 over at an Instagram account I keep solely for that purpose, so you can get way more recommendations there.)

The Cozy Section

Hario Maru 450mL. (Non-Amazon links: Sur la Table, Mem Tea, Harney & Sons EU)

I’m very much A Tea Person, and one of the things that happens when you’re A Tea Person is that EVERYONE gifts you teapots for every occasion, year after year. I have tried (and disliked) many teapots. There is one (1) that has never let me down. The One Teapot, you might say.

This humble and unassuming Hario teapot is the real MVP: it doesn’t dribble when you pour, the handle is perfectly shaped so your knuckles don’t get burnt, and the strainer dips low enough that even when you only brew a half pot’s worth for yourself, the leaves get properly submerged. IMO there is no better teapot out there.

Takeya Actives Water Bottle with Straw Lid ($33, but they’re running a 30% off special)

It may seem very weird for me to suggest a water bottle as a great gift, but hear me out. I generally have a hard-ass time staying hydrated, especially now that I’m home 24/7. For whatever reason, I spill or slop water on myself all the damn time, and I…don’t like the taste or the sensation of drinking water out of a cup??? I know! I’m weird! I’ve asked science to figure me out but they’re preoccupied working on the vaccine!

I bought myself this water bottle this year and it was a game-changer. After I got over the ridiculousness of buying a product with “Actives” in the name for sitting around the house, I kicked myself for not getting it earlier. It’s SO easy for me to sip water absentmindedly without spilling, the insulation keeps cold water cold and hot water hot (sometimes I drink plain hot water! we’ve already established that I am weird!), and I swear water tastes better through a straw. I initially felt very ambivalent about the handle (it hinges; don’t get confused by the product photo), but it’s turned out to be brilliant for [checks notes] toting my water around the house while I have my hands full with my laptop and other assorted devices.

If you gift this to anyone, I recommend throwing in a straw and bottle cleaning kit, just because all reusable water bottles get funky.

Vanuba Anoa Slippers, $60 (Etsy)

I really try not to claim that consumer products will improve your life or increase your happiness, but these slippers were a turning point in my year. (Look, 2020 has been A YEAR. Don’t judge.) I love those fluffy shearling-lined moccasin slippers as much as the next person, but LA is just too warm to wear them most of the year. Like the Takeya water bottle, these slippers were a game-changer: they were snug and comforting, like a weighted blanket for my feet, but weren’t too warm or stifling in SoCal temps. I keep thinking of Bruce Willis “making fists with your toes” in Die Hard, because this is something I get to do ALL DAY now. 10/10 would recommend.

While $60 is on the steeper end for house slippers, I think these are 100% worth it because 1) the soles offer actual support, and 2) the slippers are made of natural, non-synthetic materials (sheep’s wool and rubber), and these days I’m trying to avoid as many non-biodegradable materials as possible. You know, for the earth?

Pigeon Posted ($8.27 for a pack of 6)

The amount of letter-writing I did SKYROCKETED this year; it’s been one of the few silver linings of physical isolation. I’ve gone through so many stationery sets, and these Pigeon Posted sheets stood out. They’re a single piece of very sturdy paper that arrives pre-folded; you write on the inside, fold it up, and then hold the entire thing in place with your postage stamp. I’ve sent these domestically and internationally and 1) they hold up and 2) people are delighted by them, to the point that I’m giving out packs as gifts now.

KAO MegRhythm Eye Masks ($19 for 14)

I love introducing people to these masks, because something in them wakes up, they embrace their new, better life, and I get to be a part of it. The eye masks gently heat up when you take them out of the packaging (don’t worry, they don’t ever get too hot) and release really soothing fragrance; I linked to the lavender scent because that’s pretty much a universally soothing scent, but my personal favorite is actually yuzu.

I don’t know if I can overstate how wonderful these masks are; they’ve helped me with mild headaches, eye strain, and have helped calm me down when I can’t fall asleep. They’re also just utterly relaxing, calming treats, and I think we could all use extra calm and relaxation this year. You can get these masks way cheaper (I stocked up on a trip to Tokyo in the Before Times) but I’ve been ordering from Glowie Co. frequently out of convenience, and I’d consider <$20 a reasonable price for a box of these.

Happy shopping!

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A story about shoes

I, Sharon, am what is known as a Bad Blogger. I fail to blog frequently not because I have nothing to talk about or no interesting things to report or any deeply original thoughts to share. Over the past several weeks I have thought of about fifteen different things to write about and mustered up the energy to actually write none.

So it’s a little embarrassing when my dear boyfriend, who has taken to blogging with alarming gusto, diligently takes photos, writes blog posts, rattles off a list of upcoming post subjects in conversation, and—get this—has enough posts prepared to set several to auto-publish so that they appear spaced evenly throughout the week. This will not do, boyfriend. I can blog too.

So without further ado—today we went to the Alameda Point Antiques Faire, which occurs only once a month and is big enough to convince you that one could very plausibly repopulate the earth with antique buffs and hipsters. The website boasts that there are 800 sellers at the fair(e), but I’m fairly sure I entered a wormhole into a universe of infinite booths, because I found myself standing in the middle of the grounds and seeing what looked like miles of tents in every direction. We spent more than four hours there and barely saw half of what was there.

For two antique-buying greenhorns, Bryce and I did exceedingly well. I won’t spoil his fun by reporting what he got (as you might expect, he’s got a number of blog posts planned over this) and I’m proud enough of my little haul to spread it out over several posts.

So! If you ever find yourself at one of these antique shindigs, here’s a tip—you will get great deals at the end, when all the sellers are packing up and are tired and want to get rid of their stuff to the point that you could probably buy George Washington’s teeth for two cents. As sellers loaded their costume jewelry and typewriters and mahogany dressers into trailers, we somehow ended up in a little tent full of shoes. It kind of felt like this:

I’d been looking at vintage shoes and struck out all day. Maybe I have stupid taste, but I’m not a fan of the pointy-toed d’Orsay thing that all vintage shoes seem to have. But this tent—it was magical. Shelves of shoes of all different styles, many of designers I’d actually heard of. I made a beeline for one shelf and saw one thing: a pair of gray suede pumps with solid wooden heels. I’ve been wanting a pair of gray suede heels forever.

I couldn’t tell, just looking at them, what size they were supposed to be. My shoe buying experiences are somewhat limited to 1) filtering online selections by size and 2) spotting, in budget-fashion-ish stores (Ross, TJ Maxx, et. al) lonely left shoes plastered with giant “6.5” stickers wedged between a half-empty Burger King cup and a misplaced sneaker.

The tent owner, a kindly gentleman, came over. “They’re organized by size,” he said, gesturing proudly to the shelves.

“Where are the six-and-a-halves?” I asked, hopinghopinghoping and picking up the gray suede pumps. The soles bore Cole Haan’s logo.

“Well, these are the size sixes,” he said—my heart fell a smidge—”but a girl tried that pair earlier and said they ran big”—yes!—”so they’ll probably fit you if you’re a six and a half.” Thank you, fellow tiny-footed girl!

(Just for the record—yes, despite being reasonably tall, I have little feet, and sometimes even 6.5 shoes are too big for me.)

I tore off my sandals and stuck my foot in. The angels sang. I slipped the other shoe on and hopped around on the pavement. The four-inch heels felt like nothing. Guys, this is what happiness feels like.

“Looks great. She could be a foot model,” Shoe Gentleman said to Bryce.

Flattery aside, I knew the pattern. Girl finds shoes, shoes are perfect, shoes are expensive, girl leaves shoes, girl is sad, roll credits. “How much are they?” I asked Shoe Gentleman.

“Well…I was asking $35 for them, but since I’m closing up I’ll sell them for $30.”

“Could I have them for $25?” I asked tremulously. Yes, this is how I haggle. Yes, I am bad at haggling.

I could see Shoe Gentleman’s brain whirring as he quietly weighed the situation. Whir, buzz, clank.

“Yeah,” he said reluctantly. I knew not to push it. If I were my mom, I could probably have bargained my way down to nothing, but hey, I should support the local economy. I kept my face impassive as I dug around for my cash, but inside I looked like this:

Shoes! Shoes! Shoes! I got beautiful shoes! HAPPINESS!

As soon as I returned to the land of internet, I did some frantic Googling and discovered three things:

1. The shoes are Cole Haan “Josephine” pumps in Ironstone,
2. A pair in size 9.5 are going on eBay for $190, and
3. The original retail price, according to Neiman Marcus, is $248.

Boo-yah! I win.

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Process of Deduction

I realized today, after going through shops (one amazing accessories store may have stolen my heart, even though I didn’t get anything) and a riverside of market stalls, that although I adore jewelry of all sorts, I can hardly, from a utilitarian standpoint, wear any of it.
I don’t wear rings because of piano; my exception is my sapphire claddagh ring, which I take off every time I play. I’ve forgotten it many times on the piano, though luckily have never lost it!
I don’t wear bracelets, also because of piano.
I don’t wear earrings because I don’t have pierced ears. I have a pretty admirable collection of clip-ons, including some really nice clip-on hoops, but I almost never wear them.
The only thing left, really, is necklaces. And even then I can’t wear big statement necklaces all the time because I play violin.
So even though I love pretty accessories of all sorts, I pretty much never wear jewelry other than my ring and my Tiffany key. I envy girls who sport big cuffs, oversized rings, and huge statement necklaces (I secretly love huge statement jewelry!), but unless I want to remove all my accessories before I play any instrument, I will continue living a blingless life.

I did, however, buy this necklace today. I couldn’t help myself, it made me feel like Cleopatra.

(I realize now that this post has absolutely no point whatsoever. Oh well.)
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