Shoes and Fashion Accessories

Graduation shoes are absolute chaos—more dramatic than the cap toss, no joke. Counselors rave about “all-day comfort,” which is hilarious, because nobody asks if the heels double as interview shoes. But everyone nods at Lululemon slides or slip-on loafers, and sneaker resale value is apparently a thing (campus sneaker slots fill up fast, no surprise).

One teacher flat-out told me, “Fashion accessories matter more than people admit—nobody remembers the keychain.” She meant stuff you actually use, not just gadgets that collect dust. Sunglasses—especially polarized, low-key branding—never show up on official lists, but everyone’s got a pair. I once heard a water-resistant watch is more appreciated than a portable charger. Maybe true, since you’ll still wear the watch in three years, but who knows.

Bags and Purses

Bags get zero hype, but anyone who’s tried hauling five books, a laptop, and snacks without snapping a strap knows they’re essential. Collegiate pouches? Boring, but somehow always “borrowed” by roommates. Schools won’t endorse a Lululemon Everywhere Belt Bag, but it’s the first thing freshmen grab from lost and found.

Tote bags? They outlast every laptop sleeve I’ve owned. My advisor gave me a monogrammed leather purse once (“so you always look pulled together,” she claimed)—it ended up being my errand bag by November. It’s honestly ridiculous how school “gift suggestion” lists skip backpacks and purses, but alumni offices hand out branded ones like candy during orientation. If anyone claims branded bags aren’t trendy, just check the resale prices on Etsy.

Dorm and Home Essentials as Gifts

I’m not making this up—every graduation registry gets jammed with towels and coffee makers, but the school just mails out a pen and never mentions the stuff that actually matters. What’s missing? The things that, according to every college forum and move-in checklist, end up being survival gear for those first months out of high school.

Blankets and Candles

I’ve lost track of how many dorms I’ve walked into and seen someone wrapped in a threadbare throw from middle school. Oversized fleece blankets—Twin XL, IKEA or Target, whatever—basically save your life when the university “forgets” to turn up the heat. Even cheap ones feel soft if you toss in some baking soda with the wash (my roommate’s grandma swore by it). Weighted blankets are everywhere in 2024 for “anxiety,” but schools never mention them—probably some liability thing.

Candles are even weirder. RAs ban open flames, but battery-powered “scented” candles top Amazon’s freshman gift lists. People claim vanilla-scented candles reduce stress, but has anyone checked with facilities about smoke alarms? Never heard a dean brag about lavender aromatherapy, but I know tons of students who refuse to study without something smelly burning nearby. Blankets and candles: the silent MVPs, too “homey” for the official list but always there.

Water Bottles and Coffee Makers

Freshmen show up with flats of bottled water, like the tap’s full of lead. A reusable bottle—stainless steel, leak-proof, Hydro Flask or something similar—gets you through 8 a.m. lectures and fire drills when you’re locked out in pajamas. Bottles with filters are underrated (Brita’s on every “best dorm gear” list, but the cafeteria never hands one out).

Coffee makers? Don’t even start. You’re instantly popular if you own one, even if it’s a $20 Mr. Coffee or a single-cup Keurig. My cousin’s advisor literally said caffeine is “the lifeblood of STEM majors.” Hard to argue when you’re brewing at midnight for a line of desperate students. I’m pretty sure there’s an unofficial document about quiet hours, but nobody mentions how a hotplate and K-Cups build a friend group. Also, portable electric kettles are “fire hazards” in three states and totally fine in the rest, so…read the rules, I guess.

House Plants for a Fresh Start

Honestly, I kill every plant I touch, but even I admit a pothos or snake plant completely changes a dorm room. The New York Times wrote about how low-maintenance house plants improve air quality—NASA has data, apparently. Two advisors told me students with a plant on their desk had 20% fewer sick days (the study only looked at arboretums, so…suspicious).

Schools let you decorate bulletin boards but never mention buying a $12 succulent. A cactus on the windowsill survives finals week and total neglect. Upperclassmen will whisper: if you want visitors, get plants, a spray bottle, and put them by the fridge or the laundry pile. Ignore this if you’re allergic, but I’ve seen a monstera outlast four roommates and a pizza-box collapse.

Gifts That Spark Experiences and Memories

Honestly, does anyone remember a mug or a gift card in five years? No. The best gifts are those weirdly personal “experience” things—sometimes a wild concert, sometimes just the perfect carry-on, and suddenly it all sticks.

Concert Tickets and Events

Everyone acts like concert tickets are “too risky”—as if anyone ever regrets seeing Taylor Swift or Radiohead. I polled a bunch of recent grads (not scientific, whatever) and over 80% still have ticket stubs or digital screenshots from their first big show. If you think that doesn’t shape your memories, you probably never screamed lyrics in a sweaty crowd. Psychology Today supposedly has an article about live event nostalgia, but I lost the link. Buying memories > buying stuff, every time. Schools don’t say “Give concert tickets!” because, what, you’ll skip finals for The 1975?

StubHub, Vivid Seats, all those resale sites—sometimes you score cheap tickets day-of, sometimes you get scammed and end up at a tribute show that’s weirdly fun anyway. If you can swing floor seats, do it, but honestly, even nosebleeds beat watching someone’s shaky phone video. (Nobody wants the phone video. Not for graduation.)

Travel Gifts and Luggage

Why do people act like a suitcase isn’t sentimental? I still have my battered Away The Carry-On (yes, that’s the brand), and it’s survived hostels, layovers, emergencies, and a bottle of spilled Ibuprofen. Students aren’t flying business class, but decent luggage is maybe the only gift that gets dragged across the planet for a decade. Monogramming is cool, but I always worry about showing off my name to sketchy baggage handlers.

Here’s a tip: skip the cheapest roller. Get polycarbonate, 360-degree wheels, and check the warranty. A flight attendant I trust said a TSA lock isn’t just for show—it actually stops bag mix-ups at customs. No school newsletter will ever say “Buy a $300 suitcase!” but between trips home, study abroad, and random weekends, it’ll outlast every hoodie you own.