6th Anniversary

Six years is an odd milestone. Far enough past the ones that everyone bothers celebrating (one and five get most of the love) that it tends to sneak up on you without anyone ever taking a moment to really think about it. Which is unfortunate, because six years of deciding you want to be with each other day in and day out is something worth celebrating beyondgrabbing a card on your way home. The traditional gift for the sixth anniversary is candy. Or sugar. Or, in some guesslists, iron. We like the combination of those two ideas more than most people would expect. Candy because by now your relationship has likely settled into its sweet spot. All that friction has worn away, leaving comfort deep and soothing. Iron because there is strength there by now. Real strength. Tested strength. That’s some valuable metaphorical tungsten right there when you combine those two ideas together. So we combined them together. Every single item in this collection was filtered through us. Were we actually going to give this to someone we loved for their sixth anniversary? Would it land? Would it say clearly that you stopped and actually cared enough to think about what you were getting someone? If the answer to any of those was no it didn’t make the cut. We didn’t include a lot of stuff. Some seemed like they were trying too hard to link back to candy and iron and ended up just being visual puns. Some things we loved just didn’t quite fit that magical intersection we were going for. We’re left with things we think sit in that sweet spot. Gifts that don’t need to hit you over the head with meaning but feel personal and specific. Easy to wrap and enjoy without requiring the recipient to decode any messages before they can appreciate what you got them. By six years, you know somebody pretty well. The gift should be easy for that reason alone and we think ours are. You don’t have to guess at what they’ll like anymore. You’re buying for someone who you’ve lived with, who you know what kind of coffee they order at Starbucks, whose face you can see when you close your eyes. Every item we picked tried to embrace that thought. A gift isn’t good because it’s the most clever. A gift is good when it makes them feel seen.