Treat. Yo. Self.

It’s you time, baby.


Ladies, gentlemen, penguins of the North, pigeons of the South, this is for you.

I understand that Christmas is a mere five days away and, yes, that the imminent holiday purportedly moonlights as an exercise in giving, giving, giving, but can’t I argue that the holiday might also demand a self-indulgent nod to getting? From ourselves?

Frankly, if I’ve learned anything in the 25 years (no, really, today is the anniversary of my emergence from a womb called Laura’s) I have spent ambling about the earth, it is that (with the help of Parks and Recreation and one Aziz Ansari,) one should treat him or herself at least once. (A week? A month? A year? Point blank? You decide).

So here’s to that.

Now, as for the parsimonious activity — it’s fine if you decide that you want to get a fancy spa pedicure or massage or facial or any number of fleeting hedonistic treatments but figure this: it will only take one phone call — one phone call — from an angry relative or employee or the U.S. Post Office after your massage for the knot that has just been removed from your shoulder to reform and stake its claim once again. One phone call. Conversely, it’d probably take just one slice of pizza for the benefits of your facial to have been completely eradicated and as for your pedicure, take your socks off. Tell me how your toes look.

Oh, sorry, what’s that? Smudged-as-fuck? Ah-huh.

So, how about we discuss the ways in which you can treat yourself in a capacity that allows for an aftermath shelf-life that lasts, let’s say, forever long.

Take the above photographed Edie Parker clutches for example. Do you need a hard shell clutch that can barely holster even your metrocard? One that comes in mother of pearl and has a sailboat emblazoned across its cover? How about a wider one equipped with sharks? Or a micro surfboard?

No. Of course not.

But do you want one?


And why? Because it is cute! It is cool! It will make your wearing tennis sneakers look more formal and if you’re Amelia, the sail might even function as the self-fulfilling prophecy that finally lands you a New England lad clad in boat and corresponding shoe. What’s more? When you don’t want to use it anymore, you can just put it on a shelf and let it perform as the decorative fodder that makes your home a more compelling destination than all the other homes in the history of real estate. Once you want to use it again, which you will, it will be there, waiting for you, behaving as the palpable reminder of that one time you treated yourself to epicurean bliss.

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So in the spirit of loving yourself, I urge the shit out of you to share not what you’re giving but what you want. From yourself. Shoes? Jewelry? A tote with crabs on it? Chocolate? Bengay? (It’s like the New York Lottery always says: You never know.)

Even if you don’t tangibly get it, digital-cart ownership is a very real thing, so, Treat. Yo. Self.

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