One of a kind

What to get the person who has everything

by David Valdes Greenwood

There are peoplewho are easy to shop for -- college students who are perpetually broke and would be thrilled with a gift certificate to Pizza Hut, for example. But all of us know at least one person who is impossible to shop for. Maybe they're exceedingly wealthy, or maybe they have simple tastes, which in both cases means that they already have what they'd like. Or perhaps they're old enough that they've already received every gift at least once. When buying for people who have everything, you have to rethink your gift-giving approach entirely.

First off, dispense with any gift that they might actually need. If they need something, odds are they already have it or would rather get it themselves (for example, no one wants you to buy them shoes). Beyond that, you can scratch hobbies off your list, as you run a great risk of duplicating someone else's gift or the recipient's own purchases. What you should focus on is singularity: a gift that is memorable simply because it is so distinct and unusual. The basic categories for such gifts are whimsy, humor, and unalloyed luxury. Whim purchases are perfect surprises, unpredictable gifts that no one would ever think to buy for themselves. Humorous gifts work best if you employ sly, winking humor rather than broad, crass humor. Luxury, of course, is in the eye of the beholder, but quality of material counts: if something flashes, it should be because it was mined from the earth.

With these basic guidelines in mind, here are 20 gifts for the person with everything, great items from every price range that are unlikely to be found in any other gift box.

What could possibly be singular and only cost a buck? How about an entire basket full of silk sumo fetishes (99 cents) from Newbury Imports (159 Newbury Street, Boston, 617-267-1238). Practically speaking, they are pincushions, but they can be anything you want them to be: a toy pet, a colorful stocking stuffer, a message-bearing token or reminder (with an explanatory note: "Be strong like a sumo," "Good luck on your diet," "Remember our first sushi dinner?" etc.). The tiny-token-as-metaphor principle can be applied widely, but these fetishes are a fun place to start.

Is it a long, elaborate card or a short, sweet book? The Secrets of Pistoulet (Stewart, Tabori and Chang, 72 pages, $18.95) is a perfectly charming literary gift that offers diversion without too much effort (unlike giving someone a 700-page novel). Employing the devices that made Griffin and Sabine a sensation, Jana Kolpen and Mary Tiegreen's slim volume tells the story of a farmhouse in southwest France, using letters, cards, and recipes -- many tucked away in envelopes or packets -- to weave a foodie's dream tale. We found a copy at Pierre Dieux, 111 Newbury Street, Boston, (617) 536-6364.

Few people are as fixedly specific in taste as those who fancy a specific breed of dog. Angel Dog (131 Charles Street, Boston, 617-742-6435) caters to these canine aficionados, and anyone else with a well-developed sense of whimsy, by providing home goods that pay homage to four-legged friendship. Its AKC bottle stoppers ($22) feature realistically detailed hand-painted dog heads atop stainless-steel rings and genuine corks (no plastic here). Best yet, you can choose the breed of your choice, from basenji to Bernese mountain dog, Pomeranian to pit bull.

Boxes of chocolates -- even fancy ones -- are beyond passé these days. Real foodies crave exotic fare, something they can't get from a vending machine or a Girl Scout. At Savenor's (160 Charles Street, Boston, 617-723-6328), the options run from the merely yuppie (stuffed-snail kits) to the truly contemporary. Reach past Buffalo rump and alligator tail for that most succulent of deadly food groups: rattlesnake steak ($25.99 per pound). Coiled like, well, a snake, the pale meat beckons with promises of desert flair and dangerous flavor. Not for under a tree, of course, this is a gift that will blow figgy pudding out of the water.

If you don't speak Italian, "profumo per ambiente" has the ring of an exotic house of haute couture or, at the very least, an exclusive club for the jet set. At least, that's the impression given by designer Lorenzo Villoresi's room perfumes, imported from Italy. The 7-ounce vaporizers ($35), filled with one of three scents -- spiced, floral, or citrus woods -- are sleek glass bottles that have more in common with fine perfume than generic air fresheners. It's a way to not only improve one's surroundings, but to feel luxurious as you do so. If even the smell of your room is imported, you must be living well. Available at Portico, 77 Newbury Street, Boston, (617) 236-0890.

It seems that in our Information Age no one writes letters anymore . Maybe that would change if more people had their own Italian writing sets ($49.95). The hand-sealed ink bottles of the Inchiostro Stilografico set, from Campo Marzio-Roma, are gorgeous to look at even before you put pen to paper. And what a pen it is -- a wooden stylus fitted with metal nibs made in the '40s and '50s. Give this gift and you'll be sure to receive the most elegantly scripted thank-you note ever. Available at the Tea Merchant, 199 Newbury Street, Boston, (617) 247-4288.

If you know someone who is always playing mind games with you, check out the Museum Company (Shops at the Prudential Center, 800 Boylston Street, Boston, 617-267-0071), which offers an amusing, crackle-glazed porcelain phrenological head ($59). All the rage in the 19th century, these head maps outline the areas of the brain where various mental skills and affects supposedly originate, including such qualities as Blandness and Secretiveness, and faculties like Tune Modulation. Best yet, this gift might offer the recipient a head to mess with other than yours.

Some gifts are singular because only you know the recipient well enough to dare give them such a thing. Such is the case with the Igia Cellulift ($99), a three-speed device that aims to smooth out cellulite and rid the skin of dimples. A very personal gift, it is nonetheless perfect for someone whose ego is fraying as they age. Essentially a soothing vacuum, the device plugs in and is rolled over the offending skin. It may be a pointed gift, but it's much less so than buying someone a gym membership. Available at the Sharper Image, Copley Place, Boston, (617) 262-7010.

If precise memory is important, you can give a Hallmark Keepsake ornament with the year inscribed, or you can be much wittier and give a gift that captures the Zeitgeist so specifically no one will have trouble placing its era. In swinging '98, that means a martini lamp ($134.75). Its two-foot steel frame is shaped like a martini glass, complete with a candlepin bowling ball-size olive suspended on a huge toothpick and stuffed with a glowing pimiento bulb. Shaken or stirred, kitsch or cool, this gift goes down smooth. Available at Loulou's Lost and Found, 121 Newbury Street, Boston, (617) 859-8593.

At Whippoorwill (Shops at the Prudential Center, 617-236-2050) original handmade stuffed animals offer more personality than anything you can find at the mighty FAO Schwartz. And if you're afraid that a cuddly teddy might be too juvenile, have no fear. You can purchase a one-of-a-kind home furnishing: a life-size stuffed elephant head ($199.79). The firm, plush baby-elephant trophy will sport up the wall of any den. Well-crafted, it will hold its shape even as the trunk dangles playfully. The lucky recipient will feel adventurous every time he or she looks up.

Some of the best gifts not only don't need to be unwrapped but also take up very little space. Give a consciousness-raising gift by donating a water buffalo to a Lao farmer on behalf of a loved one. The buffalo will plow rice paddies for the farmer until the first calf comes along; then, the farmer keeps the calf and the cow is given to another farmer. Only the Quakers could have come up with a gift that makes so many parties feel good about themselves. Just $200. Contact the American Friends Service Committee, 1501 Cherry Street, Philadelphia, PA 19102, or call 1-888-388-AFSC.

Sure, people say they'd give you the world -- but how many actually do? The sunlit world globe ($299.99) is larger than a basketball and its National Geographic-style maps literally glow, illuminated from inside by an unseen light. The globe tilts in imitation of the position of the earth in relation to the sun (and may be set by month) and is encircled by a timeline ruler. It's so sophisticated that it comes with a user's handbook -- unlike the planet it's based on. Available at the World of Science, Shops at the Prudential Center, Boston, (617)247-0243.

If a globe that lights up appeals to you, the next logical step is a light that is globe-like. The stunning orb lamp ($369) at Selletto (244 Newbury Street, Boston, 617-424-0656) is a glowing sphere that stands on a bronze base patterned like leaves. The lampshade is made of ivory-and-wine seashells joined by iron seams. With the spine of the shells facing outward, the round ball is rippled and mysterious, looking like nothing so much as a strange red flower glowing from within.

One way to make sure a gift could only be meant for one person is to have it customized. Send a snapshot of a loved one's house to Theresa Carey and one month later she'll present you with a graceful watercolor house portrait. The Jamaica Plain artist has more than a decade's experience transforming abodes into art and can adapt the portrait to spruce up various imperfections -- though actual home repairs are not part of the package. Prices start at $375 for an 11" x 18" portrait. Contact Watercolor House Portraits, 58 Southbourne Road, Jamaica Plain, (617) 524-6582.

The lazy tick of a metronome, the graceful swimming of fish, the gentle rock of a swing -- proximity to peaceful motion always seems to make people relax. For an inventive gift that will cast the same spell, consider a kinesthetic ostrich ($1500 and up at Pavo Real Gallery, Copley Place, Boston, 617-437-1280). Daniel Palma's moving sculptures, imported from Mexico, combine cast iron with stone, steer horns, and even garden tools to create beautiful birds that begin to bob at a single touch. Though they seem like creatures from another universe, their motions are almost eerily natural, casting a hypnotic and comforting spell.

Sometimes opulence needs toning down. How to be luxurious without being repetitive (lead-crystal chandeliers are so, well, common) or just plain ostentatious (a 300-bulb chandelier is a blinding turnoff)? Styled to look both aged and tasteful, the dove chandelier ($1800) at LaRuche (168 Newbury Street, Boston, 617-536-6366) manages to be memorable without being too shocking. Twelve lights will keep a formal dining room sufficiently ablaze, and the carved doves resting on each wrought-iron arm manage to be romantic without seeming trite. The effect is more country than corny.

Think Coke is it? So does Catherine Baumann, whose tiny jeweled clutch purses are the toast of Hollywood (she made a Titanic replica for Linda Hamilton). Her Coke-can purse ($1929) is a life-size replica of the familiar can, covered in red and white Austrian crystals. It's fully functional (though you probably couldn't fit both a wallet and keys), with a lined interior and a shoulder strap that tucks away neatly inside. It's not an everyday sort of item, of course, but then neither are holidays. Available at Landau, at Copley Place, Boston, (617) 266-8777.

For home decorating, antiques defy trends and make a room seem credible. Everyone will be impressed by a Scandinavian grandmother clock ($2500 to $5000). Though any smaller version of a grandfather clock may bear this designation, the curvy-hipped clocks at Danish Country Antique Furniture (138 Charles Street, Boston, 617-227-1804) are clearly someone's idea of female furniture. Made between the 1770s and 1850s, no two are exactly alike; some feature carved cameos and others have metalwork faces, and all still work. In this case, time itself makes for a timeless gift.

If the trailer class has lawn gnomes and the middle class favors wind socks, what do the moneyed do to spruce up their lawns? My suggestion: statuary. And don't settle for teeny frolicking nymphs when you can actually get a life-size Venus de Milo ($6500). I don't mean a papier mâché look-alike, mind you, but an eight-foot-tall carved stone replica from the 1860s. These replicas, the few that remain, can be seen in museums, but why send someone a postcard of one on display when you can send the real thing? Just don't call it a lawn ornament; it's a "landscape event." Available at Gargoyles, 262 Newbury Street, Boston, (617) 536-2362.

Excess alone will never turn the head of the truly jaded. For that, lavish expense must be accompanied by both whimsy and humor. Nobody really needs a $36,000 accessory, but who wouldn't love a Cartier crash watch ($36,000 at Cartier, 40 Newbury Street, Boston, 617-262-3300)? Looking like the centerpiece of Salvador Dali's Persistence of Memory, the face of the watch is distorted into an almost liquid shape, then outlined in rows of diamonds. The 18-karat white-gold setting and alligator band are almost superfluous next to the stunningly clever face. Distinctive, a witty artistic allusion, and evidence of conspicuous consumption all in one, it is indeed the gift least likely to be duplicated.

David Valdes Greenwood already owns everything he could ever want.