Every year I await Goop’s—and by loose extension—Gwyneth Paltrow’s annual holiday gift guide. I’m delighted by the absurd display of disposable wealth; it leaves me with a deep sense of self-satisfaction from knowing that yeah, you should absolutely eat the rich. This year, however, Goop has pivoted to self-awareness, breaking up its suggestions into categories like “The Under-$100 Gift Guide.”
Uh, when did I sign up for this? “The Ridiculous but Awesome Gift Guide” has all the good stuff—like a reservation for a trip to space, flight suit training, and a $130 joint roller when there are still mass marijuana-related incarcerations targeting people of color in this country—but dubbing it “ridiculous” ruins the fun. I liked it better when they didn’t know they were stupid and gratuitous. So, instead, let’s look at the goopiest Goops in the Goop gift guide.
This goop, which bares a striking resemblance to hummus, costs as much as a therapy session.
Now this is one of your classic goops—viscous, shiny, cool to the touch. You’ll pay for it, but it’s a true goop.
Nothing says Goop like packaging that allows you to view the goop in its natural resting place. A 10/10 goop.
Call it personal preference, but I prefer my goops not to share a textural similarity with sand. However: Goop.com says it is “delightfully unscented,” and I find that to be aspirational. Goop-y, indeed.
This goop is 89 percent total organic content. The other 11 percent? Plastic collected from disposable straws responsible for the murder of baby sea turtles.
But................. for men. That’s progress, that’s Goop.
That’s it. Those are the goops. Happy holidays, from me, the moist amorphous solids, and GP.