I usually get a hefty tax return because I get to claim the house or something, and this year was no different. My friend Marline does my taxes, for which I take her out for a nice lunch. Again, this year will prove no different. What is notable is that, factoring in the price of lunch, this year’s return is exactly the price of this Louis Vuitton Monogram Canvas Coffret Tresor  that I’ve been eyeing for over a year - right down to the dollar.

I think you know the dilemma here. Obviously, there is a cosmic sign that should not be ignored, because when you ignore the gentle nudge of the universe bad things invariably happen. It’s pretty clear that this hard-sided bit of Louis luggage was just meant to be carried into my wedding suite in someone’s white-gloved hands (I don’t care if I have to wear the white gloves myself).

The practical side of me knows that almost all of this tax return has already been earmarked for wedding expenses pending on my American Express card, and despite my devil-may-care front, at heart I’m a responsible adult, whose head may often be in the clouds, but whose non-Louis-clad feet are decidedly on the ground.

One Louis will have to do. (At least until the next tax return.)

On a much lighter note than the previous post, while revisiting the past at my parents the other evening, I thought back to some of the best Christmas gifts I received as a boy. It shouldn’t require much explanation nor suspension of belief to hear that I did not ask for typical toy cars or video-games or sports paraphernalia that some boys might want.

I had my heart set on unicorns and dolls and strange exotic creatures. I wanted stardust and glitter and marabou boas. I wanted lava lamps and chemistry sets and lightning in a glass globe. Yet for all the items on my lists over the years, it was usually the ones I didn’t ask for that I enjoyed the most.

The very first gift I can actually remember is a record player. I seem to recall Mom going out on Christmas Eve and all of us wondering where she had gone, then returning a short time later with a record player, and suddenly the house was filled with music. That night it was Christmas carols, but soon we’d be listening to Peter, Paul, and Mary and the soundtrack to ‘The Magic Garden’ – a children’s show that I loved.

A few years later, I ran downstairs on Christmas morning to find a package that was as tall as me. Tearing open the wrapping, I found a chalkboard, which I instantly adored – pretending to teach lessons, writing in chalk, and wiping it off like I was at school. I thought it was the coolest thing.

The other Christmas I remember was mostly due to the combination of gifts my brother and I received rather than any one particular item. We each got a stuffed E.T. toy, as well as a little house/fort that we could stay inside and close off to the world. A few books were also part of that Christmas, and I distinctly remember laying down in our little house and trying to read ‘The Unicorn and the Serpent’ which was just beyond my grasp. The pictures were both exciting and scary, with a terrifying serpent that seemed to have the upper hand until the end. I stayed in that little house much longer than my brother, who easily lost interest in such staid occupations as reading, but even alone there I loved the moment.

In recent years Andy has done an admirable job of surprising me with his choices – a Bulova watch, a new camera – things that I didn’t even realize I wanted until I got them. As obnoxiously materialistic as I often feign to be, it’s always been the thought that mattered most.

There were far more expensive gifts that I would ask for and receive (a laser-disc player so I could play Madonna’s Blonde Ambition Tour, a Louis Vuitton Keepall 50) but the ones I cherished the most were those unexpected gifts that only the people who loved me most could know that I wanted. It’s a touching affirmation that someone noticed after all.

This is one of Steven Klein’s photos for Madonna’s upcoming Dolce & Gabbana campaign. While I normally champion just about everything she does, there are moments when I simply can’t get behind her. (Her collaboration with Gap, the second part of her Louis Vuitton ads, the shoddy efforts she put into every Greatest Hits album after The Immaculate Collection… to name but a few.) Of this preview pic (and the others I’ve seen, which show her doing mundane things like washing dishes, peeling fruit, and eating spaghetti with her bare hands) I’m a bit on the fence.

I went to Matt, my main go-to-guy when it comes to all things Madonna, and he seemed to be embracing them, so I’m giving them another chance, but my initial gut reaction was one of disappointment. I guess I was expecting some sort of ultra-glamourous scene when Dolce & Gabbana were involved. I get the concept here of turning that on its head, I’m just not sure I like it as much as I’ve liked previous work she’s done (like her first Versace campaign). I also feel like we’ve seen her do this sort of juxtaposition before – as in feeding the chickens in a dress and heels, or standing before a dirty Argentinean industrial site in formal white gloves and gown.

I will reserve final judgment until I see the ad campaign when it hits magazines. Until then, I remain unimpressed.