Even teenage boys (in my mind, the absolute hardest group to buy for) eat sweets, wear socks, and secretly still care about Christmas ornaments.
Then we played games in teams, where we had to do weird things like unwrap sweets wearing rubber gloves.
Imagine the possibilities: a shop where sweet salesmen wear name tags bearing only their mothers' maiden names.
Frost doesn't want to put his child's name in the paper, but he shows me a photo on his phone of an extremely sweet toddler wearing a sombrero.
Against a backdrop of a decayed Walt Disney castle — what its creator, the artist Rachel Feinstein, called "rococo with a nasty underside" — the models walked out with an air of sweet melancholy, wearing gigantic fur hats, tailored Mary Poppins jackets in brocade tweed over cropped pants or paisley patterned dresses with the prim aura of a Dickensian world.
They don't just eat sweets, they wear them.
Muslims celebrate by gathering with friends and family, preparing sweet delicacies, wearing new clothes, giving each other gifts and putting up lights and other decorations in their homes.
Would I return from a shower to find my sweet love wearing a white robe forced into some bizarre Mennonite ritual to cleanse her sinful soul?
Hermé, the Serena Williams of French sweets, always wears black, so it is no surprise that his signature sablé is blackened with cocoa and bittersweet chocolate and spiked with challenging, crunchy shards of fleur de sel.
Always smell sweet and good, wear deodorant, be fresh and clean, and always wear presentable clothes.
