Fantasy Gift Games

When it comes to Christmas shopping, I sometimes like to play a fantasy gift game. If I were a playboy of considerable means, generous and debonair, I think I would give each of my close women friends the Dior oui ring, a narrow yellow gold band spelling out the word oui, the “i” dotted by a small white diamond. It’s one of the sweetest pieces of jewellery I have ever seen; delicate, witty and original. It would make an excellent engagement for ring for a chic couple on a budget (it costs £320); or an extremely glamorous “holding ring” - the name given to the ring that a newly affianced woman wears before her real ring is chosen and ready.

If I were prince Charles and wished to reward my loyal staff for their hearty support during this momentous year whilst making a statement about my new ease with glamour, I would buy the men Smythson’s chocolate brown snake skin boxes and the women Prada’s delicious signature scent with their names engraved on the silver part of the bottle, a service offered this month at Harrods.

If I were a grandma with nine granddaughters aged 2-8 I would order each of them a gold ballerina pendent from the the jewellers on Portobello Road and thread it on to narrow pink satin ribbon. The moving legs and the romantic length tutu are really delightful. I would buy my daughters the white women’s skimpy nightshirts with grey piping from Bodas, because they have just the right touch of the Cary Grants.

If I were a champion figure skater with an impending marriage to my Veronica Lake-a-like ice dancing partner, I would buy her Marc Jacobs small sporran-shaped white mink handbag which is my bag of the season and available from Colette in Paris or Harrods room of luxury, at enormous expense.

If I were a nanny with an indulgent heart I would buy my three charges the fabulous electronic indoor bowling alley from John Lewis toy department and to the girls I would also give Woolworth’s mammoth Disney Princess tin filled with I kilo of miniature chocolate bars. (I hope someone gives this to me.) I would give my tricky employer who’s awfully hard to please a pair of Guerlain’s spectacular Kiss Kiss lipsticks, one to be in Insolence de Rouge. They have a real 1940s film star glamour and smell as divine as they look, lending any mouth or handbag an elegant advantage.

If I were a successful Parisian jewellery designer with four small daughters living in luxury in Rue des Saints Peres, I would buy them all cotton lawn swiss lace trimmed night dresses from Bonpoint, two each one white, one crimson. They would look as fabulous on a Caribbean beach as they would in the night nursery. If I were the sort to blow over £200 on a child’s party dress I would head straight for Bonpoint’s pink party frock with the chocolate brown silk tulle over dress, because a little girl would remember it all her life. I might also stretch to the days of the week pants for the baby (lunedi, mardi etc. etc.) because their sweet cheer would be a boon on a cold winter’s morning.

But if I were a novelist in her thirties with a shopping column and twenty five nephews and nieces and eleven god children to shop for, I would get all my Christmas gifts at my new favourite store, El Mundo Flamenco in Duke Street W1. There really is something in this store for everyone. Downstairs there are row upon row of Flamenco dresses , red and white spotted, red with black spots, turquoise, yellow, some with frills of satin and some with frills of lace. These dresses are a delight: exotic and humorous and cheaper and far more original and authentic than a nylon Disney store princess costume. They start at age one and rise to a size for people bigger than I. (I don't think someone over 8 would really be able to work that many frills though, apart from in a fancy dress context,) There are also matching red character shoes with white dots and an inch and a half heel that are the world’s most stylish children’s party shoes. They go brilliantly with navy tights and a chocolatey mouth (although it’s a look that’s a little too West London for some tastes.) For the grown ups there are buttery leather character shoes in all colours ; the soft green particularly, has a Marni feel and would look nice on your eccentric English cousin (or Helena Bonham Carter.) El Mundo also has a nice selection of stocking fillers: silk flowers, pretty earrings, guitar key rings and an enormous selection of Flamenco music from famous and less well known artists. But I think my favourite things in the entire shop are the childrens’ quarter size Spanish guitars which are beautifully made and come in sweet little burgundy carry cases packed in triangular boxes. These guitars cost eight pounds more than the dreaded Barbie Pegasus doll yet they will look very tender in a child’s bedroom, possibly encourage musicianship, last a lifetime and also provoke that all important little gasp from both parent and child. I might just take them all.

Susie Boyt’s latest novel is Only Human (Headline Review £7.99) susie@susieboyt.com