Lately, something has shifted. Instead of luxury beauty products or expensive accessories, people are arriving with sourdough kits, fancy tinned fish, artisanal olive oil and oat milk gift boxes wrapped in ribbon. On TikTok, vegetable bouquets have become a genuine alternative to flowers. At Christmas, hampers seem to be getting bigger while presents get smaller. Even the humble packet of M&S cookies has acquired the status of a thoughtful gift.
Food, it seems, has become the present of choice.
Scroll through social media and you'll find endless examples. Carefully curated snack boxes are exchanged between friends. Matcha starter kits appear at birthdays. Premium groceries are packaged with the same care once reserved for jewellery. What might initially seem like another fleeting internet trend actually says something rather interesting about the moment we're living through.
Historically, periods of economic uncertainty have often influenced the way people spend and, perhaps more revealingly, the way they gift. When budgets feel tighter, grand gestures tend to disappear. In their place come smaller luxuries: things that feel indulgent without carrying the guilt of a major purchase.
Economists have long referred to this behaviour as the "lipstick effect" - the tendency for consumers to seek out affordable treats during tougher financial periods rather than investing in larger luxury items. For previous generations, that might have been a designer lipstick or a new fragrance. For Gen Z, it appears to be a £12 bottle of olive oil, a bakery gift card or a beautifully packaged box of pastries.
The appeal is obvious. Food sits comfortably between practicality and indulgence. Unlike a scented candle or novelty trinket, it serves a purpose. Yet a carefully chosen food gift still feels generous, personal and slightly luxurious.
There's also something reassuringly domestic about it. As more young people become interested in hosting, cooking and creating homes that feel thoughtful rather than expensive, food naturally becomes part of the aesthetic. A bunch of seasonal vegetables tied with ribbon feels surprisingly at home alongside linen tablecloths, vintage ceramics and carefully arranged dinner settings.
The rise of the vegetable bouquet is perhaps the most telling example. Equal parts practical and photogenic, it transforms everyday ingredients into something worthy of celebration. It feels playful and charming, but also speaks to a wider shift in what we value. Utility is no longer the enemy of luxury; increasingly, the two are becoming the same thing.
That may explain why premium groceries have become status symbols in their own right. A Fenwick hamper or a basket filled with specialty ingredients communicates taste and discernment in much the same way a designer gift once did. It's aspirational, but still attainable.
For a generation navigating rising living costs, uncertain job markets and eye-watering rents, these smaller luxuries offer a way to participate in the culture of abundance without committing to the price tag that usually comes with it. Food has become a form of affordable indulgence as something to share and display before it disappears entirely.
Of course, there is also a certain romance to gifting something that will be consumed rather than collected. Unlike objects that gather dust on shelves, food creates a moment. A bottle opened at dinner or a tin of something delicious saved for a special occasion becomes an experience rather than a possession.
Whether this says more about changing tastes or changing economic realities is difficult to know. Perhaps it's a little of both.
What is clear is that food has moved beyond simple sustenance. It has become decoration, entertainment, personality and increasingly, affection. So the next time somebody turns up with a loaf of artisan bread, a bottle of small-batch olive oil or a carefully wrapped matcha kit, don't dismiss it as another TikTok trend.
It might just be the gift that best captures the mood of 2025.