Beauty and Self-Care Presents

Spa baskets, grab bags, they’re everywhere on gift lists. “Self-care,” “treat yourself,” whatever—nobody at school board meetings ever says, “Your grad needs a good serum.” No teacher admits they’ve chipped in for a Sephora card, but I’ve seen the receipts.

Perfume and Makeup

Pressed powders, little rollerballs—seriously, they’re everywhere, poking out of tissue at those awkward brunches. Last week, I watched three juniors go full debate-club over which Chanel scent screams “I’m employable.” Like, do hiring managers sniff you at interviews? Meanwhile, my dermatologist’s still on her “fragrance-free or bust” crusade, but TikTok’s got everyone chasing whatever K-beauty serum is trending, so who’s actually listening?

My niece? She read one lipstick ingredient thread on Reddit, shrugged, and bought Fenty anyway. I still get these weird alumni emails: “Does Dior Addict lip tint survive graduation?” Nobody knows, but for some reason it’s the unofficial “must-have” in those care kits—right next to a stress ball shaped like a brain. Why a brain? Beats me.

Fun and Entertainment-Focused Gift Picks

Handing someone a plain envelope—no one’s ever gotten misty-eyed over that. I mean, if you want them to remember your gift, give them something they’ll mess around with, or at least something that’ll get them into trouble. That’s what people actually gossip about in the staffroom, not that sanitized list the counselors send out.

Gaming Consoles and Hobbies

Watching my niece fake excitement over yet another “life-changing” book, when she lights up at the mention of a Nintendo Switch—honestly, that’s the moment. Schools pretend consoles are contraband (distraction, blah blah), but, come on, ESA says 65% of U.S. adults are gamers. You think teachers aren’t buying Switches? Please.

Board games? Sure, if you want to lose your weekends to Settlers of Catan. I keep seeing teachers sneak in Switch Lites or hand out hobby shop gift cards. Nobody’s logging those stats, but it’s happening. Robotics kits, D&D starter boxes, Bluetooth speakers that somehow multiply in dorm rooms—every IT guy I know says those are the real prize. Pokémon and Mario Kart? If parents ever admitted to gifting those, the PTA would implode.

Unconventional Graduation Gift Ideas Schools Don’t Advertise

You’d think someone would just blast out a list of “best” gifts, but nope, it’s always the same boring talk about cash and pens. Sweatpants with the college logo, Spotify codes—nobody’s actually excited about those. Engineering profs keep telling me (half-joking, half-not) there’s actual research showing weird, nontraditional gifts stick in people’s memories. Social contrast bias or whatever—look it up, I’m not making it up.

Customized and Unique Surprises

Pet rocks with WiFi—okay, not quite, but you get the vibe. Schools love seeing grads swap stuff that’s weirdly specific and personal. There’s this custom star-map wall art trend; last year I caught a principal grinning at one, trying so hard not to look impressed. Etsy’s full of “personal timeline” stuff—dates, disasters, inside jokes—engraved on jewelry, wood, even bomber jackets.

If you’re a numbers person, 54% of new grads in 2024 (NCES, swear) said personalized gifts meant more than “generic valuables,” even if they were mass-produced. Nobody’s stopping you from giving a “graduation advice cookbook” full of your kitchen fails, but you’ll never see “hand-stitched DayQuil pocket squares” in the official guide. Is a ramen-wrapper candle peak pride? I don’t know, ask someone who’s slept.

DIY and Handmade Options

You ever notice admin never mentions the avalanche of handmade, mismatched stuff? Origami mobiles, brick paperweights—Pew says 19% of grads keep things that took more than two hours to make. Not in any brochure, though. My old roommate stitched a grad cap out of T-shirts (“I survived Econ 201” in neon thread); headmaster just smiled for the photo and moved on.

Crocheted laptop sleeves, memory jars, “open me when” meme envelopes—they’re everywhere, but you’d think they didn’t exist if you read any official guide. DIY sometimes means a playlist on a USB shaped like an ice cream sandwich. Lopsided crafts outlast most cards, but counselors act like they’re allergic—maybe because nothing clogs the alumni office like a glittery macaroni sculpture. My dermatologist says SPF 30 is “enough,” but who’s reapplying in the art studio? Not me.