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In general, I am a fan of the new. New people? Love to meet them! New experiences? Love to have them! New films and albums and books? All reasons to get up in the morning! But, when it comes to things to buy and collect and wear, I’ve never really been a modern girl. I’ve always loved retro objects—things that seem to hold within themselves an ancient story, things that might possibly have been enchanted by a bog witch. One of my favorite childhood toys was my grandmother’s creaky beige typewriter; I spent more time clacking about on the thing than I did playing with any of my dolls du jour. In my teens, I developed a passion for thrifting that has never really abated; I still prefer to wear a dress from fifty years ago to one made yesterday, all things being equal. Now I feel like my time has finally come, because buying secondhand has never been more popular. A 2025 “Recommerce Report,” by the online marketplace OfferUp, found that ninety-three per cent of U.S. consumers bought at least one used item in the past year, and nineteen per cent of them were making their first-ever vintage purchase. Members of Gen Z are especially passionate about shopping secondhand. According to The Business of Fashion, young people, raised on internet sleuthing, are turning away from new luxury items, knowing that they can hunt down used goods of equal or higher quality instead. They’re “not tuning out of fashion,” the report states. “They’re interrogating it.”
There are surely many other causes for this—economic anxiety, climate anxiety, cultural nostalgia. Perhaps it’s that we’re sick of being marketed at online with firehose force. (How many times can Instagram try to sell me futuristic L.E.D. masks and cutting-edge eyeliner? Answer: infinity.) Perhaps it has something to do with the ambient dread that people feel about the rise of A.I.—and about the glee that technocrats seem to take in introducing slick products that could end up replacing us or bankrupting us or both, depending on which way the bubble pops. Perhaps it has something to do with the over-all mood of this grimly tumultuous year, and the way that it feels discordant, or even distasteful, to grab for the latest, greatest, shiniest thingamabob that promises to fix it all. For all of these reasons, I feel more drawn than ever to items that are secondhand or—if they must be new—emulate the craftsmanship and quality of an earlier time. In this spirit, I present you with a list of old-fashioned gifts for either your loved ones or yourself. But let’s be honest: so much of the pleasure of buying used is the thrill of the hunt, so my hope is that this list will be more of a jumping-off point. May a few of my vintage rabbit holes send you off on searches of your own.
Cups Runneth Over
Celestial-motif tall glasses
When people ask me about getting started buying vintage, I often direct them toward glassware. There are so many beautiful used glasses out there, and they are often quite affordable, and having a few beautiful pieces sitting around makes more of a difference than you would think. My life was improved when I began drinking seltzer not out of the can but out of a vintage milk-glass goblet, the pale opaque green of pistachio gelato. Other vessels that have caught my eye include these celestial stunners ($89 for a set of four); Italian pink frosted wineglasses, perfect for rosé ($101 for six); opaline juice glasses the color of limoncello ($128 for four); mid-century milk-glass goblets ($82 for half a dozen); nineteen-fifties cut-glass Nick and Noras ($40 for six); thirties “lily pad” coupes ($46 for two); a fifties silvery lowball set ($60 for five) with a Studio 54 aesthetic; and a sixties Martini set ($158) in the original box, complete with a tall pitcher and a glass swizzlestick. I have also had my eye on these pewter Jefferson cups ($45 each)—they aren’t vintage, per se, but they are based on cups that Thomas Jefferson himself designed, with a local silversmith, in 1810. Buy them for your uncle who can’t stop talking about the new Ken Burns film on the American Revolution.
Ring the Alarm
Ludditism is cool now, have you heard? So is having no followers on social media. The point is, we are all sick of our slop-filled phones, so why not give something that can help your recipients escape theirs? Enter the classic alarm clock: a tried-and-tested way to rise the old-fashioned way. For secondhand options, eBay and Etsy are your friends. This Spartus quartz clock ($15) is as nineties as an episode of “Friends.” There’s a prim and proper Westclox Baby Ben ($40); a German metal “travel alarm clock” ($276); a charming, if a bit battered, nineteen-fifties clock with an illustrated face ($80); a futuristic Italian clock from the seventies ($145) that looks like a piece of Elsa Peretti jewelry; a retro iMac clock for the Y2K nostalgic ($40); and this beauty with a dancing ballerina trapped inside ($95). For new clocks with an old feel, I am partial to the Westclox Moon Beam ($58), a zippy little clock first introduced in 1952 that feels right out of a mid-century diner. (Most Moon Beams you can find these days are reproductions, but you can still hunt down a bakelite original for $45 on eBay). The Penco Flip-style Clock ($290) is a bit pricey, but unmatched if you want that classic fluttery motion when the numbers turn. The Braun BC22 Alarm Clock ($69) is sold at the MOMA store for a reason; it is a perfect little chunker. This Arne Jacobsen table clock ($139) feels like it belongs in the apartment of a Nora Ephron heroine, and this Kikkerland model ($23) has a decidedly Bauhaus vibe.
How to Buy an American Quilt (or Blanket)
Shearling-collared duster coat
Bedding tastes come and go—right now, if TikTok is any indication, people are into something called the “Ralph Lauren Christmas” aesthetic, which involves covering one’s bed in hunter-green flannel. But quilts and woven blankets are eternal. They contain within their threads so many connections—to matrilineage, to inherited knowledge, to tradition that persists regardless of what’s in style. As for the truly old stuff, I recommend the Etsy shop CrazyQuiltVintage, where you can find gems like this nineteen-twenties antique rose-wreath quilt ($487) and a circa-1900 Indiana “snail trail” quilt ($359). I’m also a fan of ShyTiger, a one-woman shop run out of Canada that specializes in upcycling vintage materials like old quilts into adorable garments and accessories such as this tote bag ($119) and this tempting shearling-collared duster coat ($704). But I’ve also admired many new specimens from Amish Country Lanes, a site that allows Amish quilt-makers in Pennsylvania and elsewhere to sell their wares online, and from Helping Hands Quilt Shop, out of Berlin, Ohio, which features the quilting work of local Amish and Mennonite craftspeople. (How beautiful is this $1600 Starry Night one?) At 8th Gen, which focusses on the work of Native American artisans, there are several warm wool blankets to buy, based on motifs that have been passed down through generations; this “family floral” blanket ($405), by the Shoshone-Bannock artist Kira Murillo, is particularly gorgeous.
Fan-demonium
If evening gloves are back, can fans be far behind? They’re functional, sure—there will be hot days, and you may want help feeling less hot—but they’re also just frilly and silly and look great tacked onto a wall. There are bushels of vintage ones to be found online, but I recommend checking out Farina Sternke’s shop, MadAboutFans, in particular. Sternke’s fan obsession grew out of childhood trips to East German castles, where historical outfits were perfectly preserved. Today, she stocks an ever-changing selection of the most elegant antique fans I’ve seen. Right now, there’s this fluffy Art Deco-era number covered in ostrich feathers ($232), and a hand-painted Victorian fan with a base of mother-of-pearl ($180). Or perhaps you’d rather wear your fan as a brooch ($65)? Or as a pendant charm, with nineteen-sixties Italian-giallo flair ($67)? Or as Fritz Lang-esque clip-on studs ($20)? For a high-quality new option, there is Khukhu’s Napoli red hand fan ($146). It is designed to evoke “rows of beach umbrellas, swirling tarantellas, red dresses and cornetto ice-creams,” which is another way to say it looks like summer. In these cold winter months, it can act as a sort of harbinger of brighter days to come. (That, or you can use it to disguise your visage at a masquerade ball. I don’t know your life!)
I Want (Old) Candy
If you are ever feeling blue in New York City and you need to get someone a gift, there is no quicker way to kill two birds than to drop by Economy Candy, on Rivington Street, which boasts the distinction of being New York’s oldest continuously operating sweets shop. Economy Candy is what I like to call a dino-store—a shop in the city which has managed, somehow, to weather the decades and remain open for business, and is now, because of sheer tenacity, and perhaps a favorable real-estate deal, the last of its kind. Economy is also one of the only places in New York that I believe to be worthy of a gift card; usually, a gift card says, “I didn’t know what to get,” but here it says, “Go play!” Of course, we can’t all teleport to downtown Manhattan, but as an alternative I’d suggest putting together your own Economy-style gift box full of old-timey sweets. Perhaps a two-pack of classic Belgian Guylian seashells ($35) or some Cella’s cherries ($8). Or maybe a six-pack of C. Howard’s Violet mints ($9), some Goo Goo Clusters ($2 each), a pound of black-licorice cats ($8), and some Sifers Valomilk cups ($93 for a twenty-four-pack). In general, the internet has resurfaced nearly every nostalgic confection one could hope for. So, go ahead, give a pound of peanut-butter fudge from Chatham Candy Manor ($20), or two pounds of Shriver’s taffy ($30), or a tin of Peppermint Divinity from the Vermont Country Store ($17), or a tub of Dubble Bubble ($19). The worst thing that could happen is that someone will smile kindly and say, “How sweet.”
Eternal Flame
Loewe tomato-leaves candle
Scented candles have become the laughingstock of gift culture, dismissed as lazily impersonal and, if you pair the wrong scent with the wrong person, a noxious liability. I politely dissent. Nobody is kicking the zesty Loewe tomato-leaves candle ($130) or the herbaceous Trudon Abd El Kader candle ($135) or the earthy Tatine forest-floor candle ($45) or the sensuous Diptyque Narguilé candle ($78) out of bed. But, to change things up, how about giving the candlelighter in your life some old-school candle accessories? The British writer Dolly Alderton, who has impeccable taste, suggested that I track down candlesnuffers, and I am here to oblige. You wouldn’t think that having a little gizmo to put out flames would be so useful, but, once you snuff, you never go back—you’ll feel as glamorous as Kim Novak in “Bell, Book and Candle.” There are many secondhand gems to be found for a song: this bronze deer ($25); this combo candle stand and snuffer ($24), from the sixties; and this haunted Victorian girl rendered in pewter ($19). If you prefer a new one, Schoolhouse has a cute, portly model ($99) that would look quite cheery on a tabletop. Or how about this one ($39) that resembles a wee duck? Or this much larger duck ($86)? Or this one ($31) that looks like a bluebell cup? I recommend bundling a snuffer with a lighter for a weightier gift—this Art Deco-inspired lipstick lighter from Edie Parker ($85) is a dream. You can also never go wrong with a refurbished antique lighter; Elegant Lighters is my go-to source.
Life of a Robe-Girl
Sometimes you just want to dress like you’re on contract for M-G-M and you won’t come out of your trailer until they give you more lines. If this resonates, I cannot recommend highly enough the work of an Etsy seller called Velvet Zephyr, which specializes in exquisite handmade old-fashioned dressing gowns. Last year, I ordered this green velvet robe ($315) with faux-fur trim, and it has made me happy every single day since it arrived. I am also partial to this pale-pink design ($357). For something a bit more “Life of a Showgirl,” a designer who goes by LucyAmberLingerie makes marabou robes, like this pink showstopper ($153), by hand; and FolxAtelier, out of London, sells glorious chiffon creations like this cascading lavender robe ($550). A dressing gown calls for elegant house slippers; I recommend these chocolate velvet wedges ($425) from the British shoe designer Olivia Morris, or these dainty cotton-candy-colored slip-ons ($130) from Patricia Green.
Antiquated Amusements
Oh My Mahjong starter kit
The Spirograph, a children’s drawing toy in which you poke a pen through a series of corrugated circles to create swirling geometric designs, was recently reissued on the occasion of its sixtieth anniversary. I bought this set ($20) at the MOMA store, won over by the sleek tin case and the promise of mindless doodling. I have since spent many hours with it; the looping concentric circles remind me a bit of Ruth Asawa’s pleasantly globular sculptures, soothing in their streamlined intricacy. I plan to give a set to every kid I know. Meanwhile, the classic Chinese tile game mah-jongg is also having a moment (according to Harper’s Bazaar, “all the cool kids” are playing it now). You can get into it with stylish starter sets from Oh My Mahjong (from $640 for a mat, tiles, and a carrying case) and the Mahjong Line ($495 for a set of pink tiles). Rummikub, another tile game, invented in the nineteen-forties, is also making a comeback—grab a handsome Rummikub starter set ($195) and get playing.
Do It by Hand
Writing by hand is back in vogue; more and more people are keeping paper-and-pen journals, and professors, wary of ChatGPT, are now giving students handwritten assignments. For my money, a very good gift for someone interested in exploring old-fashioned scribbling is a Calligraphy starter kit ($95-$125) from the Postman’s Knock (which also teaches excellent online courses). For an added flourish, you could throw in a quill-and-ink set ($33). The TWSBI Eco fountain pen ($39) is an ideal first pen for those getting into the fountain-pen game; pair it with an Inkvent advent calendar ($110) for colors galore. For vintage pens, you can do no better than the Fountain Pen Hospital, which has been serving New Yorkers since 1946. For a more experiential gift, you could give an online cursive-writing course ($289), which will, according to the instructors, “help you improve your penmanship and keep the art of cursive alive.” Also, if you know someone who is looking to write more letters by hand, here’s a shameless plug for the illustrated coffee-table book on handwritten correspondence that I published earlier this year; it even comes with tear-out stationery.
The Perfumed Past
If someone offered to get me any scent-centric gift I wanted this year, I would request a trip to the Osmotheque, in Versailles, the world’s largest perfume archive, which houses centuries of classic fragrance formulas. But there are simpler ways to sniff out bygone fragrances. This Astier de Villatte three-perfume set ($315), developed by the master French nose Dominique Ropion, contains three vials of re-created historic fragrances—from Egypt, ancient Rome, and nineteenth-century France—whose formulas were rediscovered by the scent historian Annick Le Guérant. The perfumer Marissa Zappas creates modern perfumes that take their cues from classical scents. Her discovery set ($75) includes two of my favorite vintage-leaning perfumes: La Divina, a heady rose fragrance named for the first Roman courtesan, and Maggie the Cat Is Alive, I’m Alive!, a champagne-and-oakmoss scent inspired by Elizabeth Taylor’s performance in “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof.” But why overthink it? A great throwback gift for a scent lover is a bottle of Badedas Vital Bath ($16), an herbaceous, emerald-green goo from Germany that has been a European beauty secret for decades. And, for all you bathers, I’ll offer a little parting gift of my own: a playlist of classic torch songs to listen to while getting pruny.
