The first snowfall arrives, a reminder of everything we’ve done wrong. Wet, wind-torn flakes splattering against the grey pavement. The Earth clearing its throat after decades of swallowing our waste. I sigh at the sight of discarded plastic bottles, and chocolate wrappers. Tinged with grey, footsteps treading, refusing to notice how poorly we treat our planet. But I notice, and mentally file away. Smoothing down my handmade red tartan skirt. Swishing under the fleeting snow. The wind rips through my wild hair. Tendrils unfurling from my pearl beret, a small business find. I watch people Christmas shopping, plastic bags, ripping. Brown Primark bags exploding in the rain. Small businesses struggling under the weight of consumerism, waiting for their time to shine. I ponder as my crimson jumper coming untucked. A flash of olive skin. Reddened cheeks like I was auditioning to be Rudolph. A red-tipped nose, slightly wet. I grab my elephant printed tote bag, made from recyled materials. Running sustainable vegan Christmas errands on what felt like the coldest day of the year. A feel good vegan supermarket i’d never seen so much choice. Saddened by the plastic-wrapped fruit. By people’s reactions to yellow-stickered food, their noses turned up. But me? I was craving a sustainable vegan Christmas. Where animals, humans, and the planet lived in the most perfect harmony.
I scan the supermarket shelves, my eyes making a beeline for something special. A vegan yule log, dusted in white icing. Thick chocolately ganache, I imagine it smeared around my lips. Shortbread cookies supporting fairtrade working conditions. A vegan turkey stuffed with sage and herb, made by artisans. My tongue salivates, a vegan hot chocolate with chilli, with 80% cacao. Imagine it laced with vegan whipped cream, and mini marshmallows. Sustainable vegan Christmas nibbles. Olives hand-selected, stuffed with garlic. Crackers, and chutneys, grapes, locally grown. Gilded recycled Christmas crackers with sustainable toys for kids. Wrapping paper made by artists, raising money for charity. A handmade card for Rudolph, who would keep it a secret from Santa. I was on my way to visit him, on a bike I didn’t know how to ride. Remembering that Christmas was less than a month away, counting the ways like beads on a rosary. For a faith I no longer had in a world run by greed.
My bag is half-full, as though there is something missing. Craving sustainable vegan Christmas gifts for him, her, them. The rain comes thick and fast, pelting my face, I shiver. I walk through the wintery mix, and remind myself, that this will be all over. Making the journey over to Rudolph, to discuss our Sustainable vegan Christmas plans. But the snow, isn’t like the white paradise in Lapland. It’s wet needles clawing at my red puffa jacket, like a demon. My recycled fibre heart gloves soaked through. I’m here now. In Christmas land. Stepping inside Rudolph’s lair, the radiators hissing like waking beasts. I’m already calculating. Is it renewable, is it necessary? My hands burning with that painful thaw. It feels like guilt, warming from the inside out. I peel my gloves, clinging to my palms like raw skin. But Rudolph has other plans. His mouth lit up in a smile. Showing me a Christmas that wasn’t built on glitter and excess. But a fragile reimagined version from low-waste habits and restless hope. Telling me to hop on his repurposed sleigh, crafted from reclaimed wood. His nose glows, energy-efficient. With each stuttering flash, he forces images into my mind. Intrusive, like someone pressing a cold fingertip between my eyes. ” I can help you” he says, an impish twinkle in his eyes.
He tells me he has a sustainable vegan Christmas gift guide, from fashion, to food and drink. I’m skeptical, even though Rudolph is my friend. Memories growing up with his nose nuzzled into my neck for warmth. His scent of cold air and composting air, strangely comforting. But then I see. A sustainable vegan Christmas chocolate box, I fall in love. Green brussel sprout truffles, unexpectedly decadent. Creamy obscene richness. A peanut butter truffle so thick, it clings to my teeth. Each feel good box raising money for seagrass restoration. An underwater forest in a battle against climate change. I can’t help but fall in love. My partner’s voice cuts in, “I want a festive tipple” he cries. Rudolph blasts a vision, a spiced black cherry liqueur dark as dried blood. Poured into a cup, laced with rosemary, tinged with spice. Made in a family run distillery, using renewable energy.
He takes a big swig, and begins assembling the Christmas tree. Green pine needles, laced with metallic red baubles. Green tinsel made from paper, an eco-friendly alternative. A red Christmas angel passed down by my Aunty. I sit cross legged on the blue and red tartan blanket. Imagining the Regent Street Christmas angels as I plan my Christmas makeup. Claret eyeliner on hooded olive eyes. Mulberry stained lips, a hint of gloss. A striped shirt with a white, green and red attachable accessory. Paired with a blue pleated skirt, and red tights. I watch the fake angels, strung on wires. Powered by energy efficient bulbs, made from recycled materials.
As I stare at the night sky, the world reminds me to be reponsible and green. To take Rudolph’s advice and buy sustainable vegan Christmas treasures. So I make room for the final things: A caffeine-free tea advent calendar, a small ritual to survive long, frostbitten nights. I open a door, get a herbal surprise. Dark brown liquid pooling in my Christmas cat mug, I take a deep sip. Hands reaching for a puzzle painted by mouth and foot artists. A harbour scene at sunset, ships turning gold, before they slip into a dark that never comes. In a blink of an eye, i’m home, presents under the Christmas tree. A note from Rudolph reading ‘A very merry sustainable vegan Christmas from a red-nosed friend’. I smile, gathering my gifts like talismans. Against a long, cold winter ahead. Outside the snow thickens, as if the sky is slowly collapsing. The grey souless sky melting into blue hour. I hear the cars steam-rolling the rain-soaked pavements. The smell of petrol, I wrinkle my nose in disgust. I’m not perfect, but Christmas can be more sustainable. Supporting small businesses that know better. Who shared the same passion for the planet, as I did.
Sustainable Vegan Food & Drink
Vegan Food
Kakoa Vegan Christmas Chocolate Box
I thumb Kakoa’s vegan Christmas chocolate box absentmindedly. Fingers itching to rip open the packaging. I can’t shake the convulsion. Dreaming of peanut butter licking at my winter-chapped lips. Champagne truffles, that go pop in my mouth. The box waits on the counter, bathed in yellow light. A halo reminding me to be good, so I could carry out my secret mission. To convince my non-vegan family that a sustainable vegan Christmas could be exciting and fun. That it tasted just as good as the ‘real thing’, without the cruelty. The door bell rings, and I hug myself with joy. Ushering my Aunty, Cousin and Girlfriend into my living room. A black cat nuzzling against their bags, rubbing his scent. The newest David Attenborough documentary playing softly on the TV. I conjure up vegan gingerbread chais for everyone, to pair with the chocolates. The chocolates investing in seagrass restoration projects. Capturing carbon 35 times faster than tropical rainforests. They open it hesitantly, 24 goodies begging to be eaten. Aunty dives in first, rosy-cheeked. Espresso Martini, rich, bold and smooth. Her eyes light up, she mouths ‘wow’. My cousin next, devouring the brownie, 60% Cacao, he plumps for another. Breaking it in half for his girlfriend. She plunges her teeth into salted caramel, dusted with sea salt. I inhale the ‘dark side’. Made with rice and oat milk, praline that made my mouth water. Was it any wonder it was a Great Taste award winner? Our bellies pooch, curled up in forest green blankets. Love Actually on telly, a Christmas classic, we came back to every year. Time suspended, eyes heavy with sleep. Dreaming simultaneously of Kakoa planting seagrass meadows. Supporting marine life and the environment.
Price: £29.99
The Happy Pear Dip & Snack Pots
I catch the earth waiting. Watching roots clutch sands beneath indifferent tides. Carbon sinking in shadowed waters. I measure the cost of human hands. Hands that throw plastic bottles into the ocean. Turtles caught in tangled nets. Harvests lost, forests undone, oceans choked, sustainability counting each failing breath. Seagulls choking on careless bottle caps. My eyes leak, hot, salty tears. Bitter at a world that forgets that the planet matters too. But they don’t care. December pressing cold against brittle windows. Hands groaning under the weight of yet another Turkey that didn’t deserve to die. Fists clenched at tigers in cages, cramped and ill. Biting my lips at the trees cut down for our greed. A sustainable vegan Christmas was hard but impactful. A reminder that we could, and would do better. I plan an alternative Christmas sans cruelty. Middle-Eastern inspired, something different. A contrast to our couples vegan Indian feast last year. I rub my hands together at the sight. Happy Pear Red Pepper Hummus Dip & Snack Pots, with wholegrain crackers. I slather it like pate, chargrilled peppers over homemade falafel. I sigh at the taste. A B-Corp brand using regenerative farming practices, with a focus on plant-based foods. Dolmas, from a local delicatesan dunked into rich hummus. Garlic peeking through, a hint of lemon. I shiver with delight. For the main? Roasted Cauliflower yellowed with turmeric. Tahini and sumac, chickpeas scattered like whispers of restraint. Freekeh pilaf smoky and sweet. Root vegetables curled in za’atar dust. Fattoush sharp with pomnegranate and lemon. It wouldn’t be a sustainable vegan Christmas without pudding. Date and Walnut Baklava, crisp with syruped memory. Orange blossom rice pudding fragrant as distant gardens. Washed down with a spiced apple and pomegranate mocktail, lingering like frost.
Price: £3 per snack pot
Strong Roots Cauliflower Hash Browns-need to photograph
This Christmas, I dream of forgiveness. For watching the world go to s***t, and pretending everything was OK. Ignorant to the suffering that the environment was going through. Fields that burnt beneath my hunger. Smoke curling into skies that once held snow. The cattles branded with numbers. A death sentence, I ate once upon a time. We pour oil into oceans, our forks tallying the destruction we ignore. Burn through fossil fuels, with the destructiveness of a child. Root and bean, leaf and grain whisper repentance. Towards a kinder sustainable vegan Christmas, whose future is unpolluted. Instead of the meat and sugar that scars the soil. The shops where carcasses drip blood, and we turn away in horror. Putting insipid vegetables on our plate, hoping it counteracts the death. But roasted vegetables taste like ashes on their tongues. Winter greens that remember rainfall. We underestimate how our food emits greenhouse gases. Forget about our climate footprint, from soil to shelf. Not Strong Roots. Who puts the power in vegetables. Transparent reports on their packaging, so I know the impact of what I eat. From raw ingredients to production, storage and packaging, this Christmas was about being sustainable. I settle on the cauliflower hash browns. Something I wouldn’t usually choose. Low in sugar and saturated fat. A climate footprint of 1.8. A festive brunch plate on my mind. A Hash Brown Benedict, veganized. Whipped silken egg patty drenched in Hollandaise sauce. A vegan brioche bun sprinkled in chives. Sauteed kale drenched in lemon, and black pepper. Carrots cut into vegan honey glazed strips. Parsnips roasted with chestnuts. Roasted chickpeas with maple syrup. Washeed down with a decaf oat latte, sprinkled in cinnamon.
Price £3.30
Opies Fruit In Gift Jars
I go back in time. The winter of 1880 creeping in on iron feet. Its breath thick with coal dust. The deafening silence brokeen only by the rasp of factory wheels turning long past dark. There’s snow, but it’s ashen clumps. Like the discarded wings of some fallen angel, too tired to watch over us. The streets glisten with a slick oily sheen, lantern light refracted in puddles. Tainted with runoff from the mills. Children pressing faces to dim-lit windows. Fir trees fragrant in drawing rooms, while the world smelt like smoke and cinder. Chimney sweepers to young to work, coal covered faces. Coughing up plumes that dulled the stars, blurring the shape of night. Carriages leaving trails of murky slush, wreaths hanging heavy and dulled. The aftermath of the Industrial Revolution, and commercial use of Fossil Fuels. The river slithering through the city, as if it swallowed England whole. That was the story of Bennet Opie’s beginnings. From Industrial Revolution to present day. Navigating a sustainable vegan Christmas with heart. A family run buisness in Kent, incorporating water recycling. Prioritizing recyclability, with 90% of jars and lids being recyclable. Using locally sourced ingredients to offset food miles. The Opies Fruit In Gift Jars, were no exception. Opies Peaches with Luxardo® 12 year old Aged Brandy. Taking inspiration from the 19th Century, a Victorian trifle using peaches. The jelly quivering with agar, agar. Custard with oat milk and vanilla. Vegan sponge with crushed almonds and coconut whipped cream. But my personal favourite? Black Cherries in Luxardo Kirsch Liqueur. Rich velvety overtones folded into a vegan ‘Victorian Game Pie’. Walnuts dancing with carrots and green lentils. A splash of red wine, pie bathed in port and garlic. Baby Pears with Amaretto, pureed in a silky smooth soup. Almond milk mixed with cinnamon and nutmeg. A freshly baked bloomer, dunked into sweet and savoury soup.
Vegan Alcoholic Drinks
Bellamie Cherry Liqueur
My partner moves like a clumsy spectre to carols he dosen’t like. The sound of Silent Night morbidly depressing. His arms flailing, feet trampling ornaments. Paper tinsel tangled around his ankles, the Christmas tree topples with a groan. Three cats vanishing into the shadows. Eyes gleaming like tiny lanterns of accusation. The kitchen becomes a theatre of ruin. Peppermint syrup spills in sticky rivers, nutmeg explodes in dusty clouds.Cranberry juice froths over,staining the floor like spilled rubies. Gingerbread martinis too bitter to sip. Cinnamon oatnogg, a curdled nightmare. But then, a dark-red saviour lands on our kitchen table. Bellamie Cherry Liqueur, an elegant aperitif. Inspired by the French ‘Guignolet’ liqueur and its signature ripe cherry flavour. Crafted through meticulous maceration and blending of cherries, cherry blossom, a touch of cognac, and a delightful combination of cherry and apricot stones. A sustainable aperitif unlike most alcohol. All natural ingredients with real fruit. Production in a family run distillery running on renewable energy. A drink that celebrated the whole cherry tree. It was like a light switch went off. Bad cocktails a thing of the past. He fashions fizzy Bellamie spritzes with orange peel, warm cherry mulled wine with cloves and star anise. Dances with mini Bellamie martinis dusted with cinnamon. Gushes over a sustainable cherry flip with oat cream. There’s even a sparkling cherry sangria to make the cats’ tails twitch in delight. After all aperitifs brought loved ones together. Him pleased as punch, a row of cocktails by his feet. Me sipping a vegan hot chocolate, splashed with coconut cream.
Price: £34
Maker’s Mark Christmas Whisky
My partner pours bourbon like molten twilight. The liquid catching firelight in slow, deliberate arcs. Outside, frost threads the glass with silver veins, but inside, warmth gathers in the cup. But this wasn’t just any bourbon. Maker’s Mark Christmas Whisky, with its signature red wax seal. A beautifully illustrated design capturing the warmth of a sustainable vegan Christmas. Hand-crafted at Maker’s B-Corp certified distillery. The brand a founding member of the Common Ground 100m Acres Initiative. Corn and wheat grown with regenerative principles. Their Star Hill Farm distillery the first to achieve Regenified™ Tier 3 certification, innovating in regenerative agriculture that is as vital to the future of our land as the taste of our bourbon. But the bourbon? He found it drinkable. Not sharp nor bitter. Made with soft red winter wheat, for a one of a kind drink. A smooth Kentucky straight bourbon whiskey with rich notes of vanilla, caramel, and bright cherry. His eyes lit up, talking animatedly about the Christmas recipes he’d use it for. Mulled Cider steeped with cloves and bourbon. Spiced Orchard Toddy, a personal favourite. Maple syrup and cinnamon, star anise too. Apple to garnish, steam rising. A smiled at the centrepiece surprise he left on the table. Vegan Bourbon glazed ham roast, a dash of Dijon mustard. Smoked paprika and maple syrup ladled over caramelized brussel sprouts. He always had a sweet tooth, a hankering for specific desserts. A double chocolate chip cookie with dreamy bourbon drizzle.
Price: £34.50
Non-Alcoholic Drinks
Seachange Alcohol Free Sparkling Wine
I have always loved animals. Memories walking through Christmas streets, frost biting my cheeks. The air thrumming with festive carols, as I stop to cuddle a cat shivering in the cold. Fish out the treats, sandpaper tongue scraping my palm. Dogs with excited yaps, whose paws leave shadows in the snow. But we romanticize animals during Christmas. Imagine them fat-bellied, showered with love. But so many animals are homeless, mistreated or abandoned. I see them all, unable to shake the memory of tigers pacing in cages caked in dirt. Parrots scraping at their dungeons, screaming for attention. Elephants clad in chains, their feet bloodied. Calfs removed from their mothers when young. Dolphins forced into captivity to perform tricks. Penguins waddling on floors that are too warm for ice. From there I became vegetarian. Started campaigning for animal rights. Adopted animals that were once in abusive homes. Went cruelty-free, and most recently vegan. At first, for animal rights. But in my foray into veganism, I discovered the planet. Something that Seachange knew well. An Alcohol-Free Sparkling wine, produced in an award winning winery in Treviso. Every bottle supporting their global charity partners to protect marine life, and the sea from further threat. The bottle featuring an Albatross on the label. The world’s most threatened family of birds, each one of its 22 species at threat. The packaging is mimimal, label paper made from grape waste. A natural cork and plastic free packaging. The taste just as special. Bright straw gold liquid pooling in a glass. Hints of elderflower, crisp apple and summer mint. Fizz bubbling in my mouth with glee. A sustainable vegan planet kinder to animals and the environment.
Price: £10.99
The Turmeric Co Sample Box- need to photograph
I train under winter’s bruised sky, where the silvery moon hangs thin. Someone who is still getting used to exercise, tracing the sky’s starving halo. Where Christmas waits at the edge of December. Swathed in fake glitter, but I feel the weight of the world. More than the makeshift dumbells, that I clutch with my shaky hands. I step outside and realise the cold has a gothic flavour. A chill that eats at my bones, burrowing into my flimsy workout clothes. The streetlamps flicker like dying candles, casting warped shadows. As I run through the drizzle of night. Lungs burning like coal furnaces, tasting fossil fuels on the wind. I gasp for air, watching the world drown itself in excess. Plastic wreaths, more food than the belly can handle. Throwaway gifts, cards ripped to shreds. But out here in the dark, I create my own ritual. I lift until my muscles shake. I run until the demons stop burrowing into my brain. I train to earn back Earth’s trust. To ground myself in nature, night or day. A tiny offering to a planet we’ve pushed too close to collapse. And when it’s all over, I find solace. In The Turmeric Co’s Sample Box, made from fully recylable plastic bottles. 75% recycled plastic, and 25% biodegradable plastic, developed from sugar cane. The opportunity to return your delivery packaging, to get recycled once more. My favourite flavour? Raw Turmeric & XTRA Ginger shot, dancing with watermelon and pineapple. Crafted to keep chronic conditions like depression and arthritis at bay. Raw Turmeric & Ashwagandha another stand out. Gradually I felt a little calmer, gurgling the liquid slowly. My heart returning to its normal rhythm. The Original Turmeric Shot just as special, packed with Vitamin C and B6. The ultimate sustainable vegan Christmas collection for a fitter mind, and body.
Prices: Start from £17.50 for a 7 shot box, and go up to £54.60 (discounted) for a month’s supply (28 days).
Eco-Friendly Beauty Gifts
Luxuriant Hair Growth Collection
My partner sits in front of the mirror, ginger beard scraping his chin. Hair once a rust-red flare, thinned into fragile embers. Scattered by a wind he can’t see but feels everytime he runs his fingers. He traces the patches, as if mapping an erasure. Hair that was once as thick as his beard, now wisping into oblivion. He self-consciously grabs a cap, I gifted him once upon a time. Tucking what’s left, as though lowering a veil over grief. I think of our last sustainable vegan Christmas. Growth serums wrapped in reindeer wrapping paper. He didn’t open them. Hid them in places he couldn’t find. As though he’d rather not try, to avoid failure. But this Christmas feels different. He let go of his fear, grasped onto Luxuriant’s Hair Growth Collection like it was a lifeline. It was ethical and natural. Backed by Science while delivering results he daren’t dream of. Growing and harvesting ingredients on their own farms in Thailand. The founder creating the brand because of his own hair-loss journey. My partner tried to hide. Pretended he wasn’t interested in the Hair Growth Serum or Shampoo. But he was. Using the serum 3 x per day, massaging it into his dry scalp. Made with 16 organic Asian products, restoring his confidence quicker than he expected. Already a small bit of hair growth in a month and a bit. His hair slightly thicker, he couldn’t wait to see what happened next. The shampoo a real treat, reducing his dandruff, inflammation and itchy scalp. I felt jealous, opting for serum, shampoo and conditioner. Someone who had thick wavy/curly hair, but whose scalp was starting to thin. Using the shampoo and conditioner twice a week, and the serum twice daily. The shampoo balancing my hormones. The Conditioner stimulating hair follicles for new growth. The serum creating less hair breakage after brushing. Was it any wonder that this small business had over 10,000 orders?
Figgi Beauty Balm Cleanser & Rescue Cream
I worked 12 hours today, almost swaying on my feet. In the bathroom’s dim light, it shows. I look like something risen from the ashes of a long hard night. My cheeks streaked, mascara hardened into shadows. Fatigue pooling beneath my bleary red eyes, like ink from a cracked well. The wipes tempt me. Offering speed for the price of winter-burn on my anxious fragile skin. But I do better. Reaching for Figgi’s Balm Cleanser. A barbie-pink bottle luring me in with joy. I press it to my dry skin, melting under my touch. Oil turning to liquid light as I wet my fingertips. Green rooibos a scent carried from South African soil. My makeup dissolving like sin in holy water. It cleans without scarring, It takes without tearing, Skin that’s prone to anxiety breakouts and inflammation, feeling like manna under Figgi’s watchful eye. A brand who was working on their impact on the environment. A small business using South African ingredients, that celebrated the power of conscious skincare. Vegan, cruelty-free and eco-friendly too. Designed for sensitive skin like mine. I double cleanse, lifting away what the day carved into me. Like the flareups that bloom whenever my anxiety presses too hard against my ribcage. I breathe in, breathe out. The night cream completing the sustainable vegan Christmas ritual. Sealing my face in a veil of calm i’ve not felt in weeks. Antioxidants steadying the storm. Ceramides stitching together what the world frays. This one is my favourite. No fragrance, but the feel of it is silky. Like the slow restoration of a barrier worn thin by life. My skin unclenches, my breath deepens. For one short moment, the world is gentle again.
Prices:
The Balm Cleanser £29
The Night Cream £45
et al. Line + Define Eyeliner, Gloss Balm & Line + Define Lipliner
The city sleeps under the weight of frost and ash. But me? I’m awake, hands trembling. Remembering how my fingers once hovered over powders and shadows. What my choices left behind. Plastic, chemicals, cruelty, buried in oceans, soul, the quiet lives of animals. I remind myself that I learned to do better. Turning cruelty-free, and later vegan. Supporting small businesses when I could. Looking into a brand’s impact on the environment. Tonight, I strip my face bare. No foundation. Just olive skin tinged with redness. Fine lines, and eyes that crinkle when I smile. I focus on the eyes and mouth. Letting my skin breathe for the first time in a while. As though it is a rebellion against the world’s cruelty against humans, animals and the planet. I discover et al. whose conscious skincare is honest, a chain traced from earth to hand. Clean ingredients, Science backed. I start with my beige hued lips, rubbing my finger over my parted mouth. Line them with Line+ Define Lip Liner in the shade Chai. The formula is soft and creamy, combining high-impact colour and nourishing care with a synergy of marula oil. The wooden barrel carved from biobased materials with wood fibres. I fill in the gaps with Mulberry Gloss Balm. Dark like plum, hydrating my chapped-prone lips. A hint of colour, powered by tri-peptide technology to boost collagen. Made from infinitely recyclable glass vials, with a mono material lid and rod. As for the eyes? Claret Line+Define Eyeliner. Gel smudged, smoky bleeding into burgundy night. Long-lasting and water resistant, even when I felt the tears threaten to spill. I finish the ritual with intention. Hair in a bun, swathed in a pink velvet bow. A pink gingham corset top and jacket, mini skirt over pink tights. Pink Chelsea boots, and whimiscal doughnut earrings. Stepping into a cold that reminds me how we can make conscious makeup choices.
Prices:
et al. Line + Define Eyeliner Claret £22
et al. Gloss Balm Mulberry £26
et al. line + define Lip Liner Chai £22
Lunette Period Cups
Period poverty creeps like frost through the world’s bones. Through alleyways, classrooms and cramped homes. Where girls clutch nothing but paper thing rags, the echo of a world that refuses to care. Blood stains skirts, sheets and hands. Some have no rags at all, free-flowing. No empathy, no support. Grimacing through the blood and the cramps. Sanitary products are treasures denied, luxuries stolen by poverty,while dignity thins with every forgotten cycle.The nights are long, cold tiles pressing against bare skin, fear curling like smoke around trembling bodies. Scarcity gnawing like a raven on fragile bones. Pants soaked through with crimson, bleeding fingertips.The silent counting of what cannot be afforded. Each red bloom a reminder of hunger, neglect and invisible suffering. But Lunette sees. The bodies surviving against indifference and injustice. Supporting those who were once denied period care. Sharing my vision for a sustainable vegan Christmas where period poverty is eradicated. Where it isn’t a cathedral of shadows, the air heavy with unspoken humiliation. Instead, there are period cups, in blue, pink, yellow, clear, orange, and violet. Made from 100% medical grade silicone. Safe for your body and the planet. A cup donated everytime you buy, from their charity arm ‘The Cup Foundation’. Empowering women everywhere and breaking period stigma. I insert the cup, and am surprised by how comfortable it feels. Normally opting for period pants. A cup that collects rather than absorbs. Lunette gave me the freedom to change less often. To make intimate wellness a priority and not feel ashamed. Was it any wonder it was sold in nearly 50 countries?
Price: £24
Eco-Fashion Gifts
Eva Dragoeva Attachable Shirt Accessories
I fell in love with fashion as soon as I could buy my own clothes. Rara skirts and ugg boots with jeggings. Striped fluffy tops, and skinny jeans. Embellished shoulder bags, and micro mini skirts. Statement belts and dresses over trousers. 2000’s fashion was iconic in the worst way. But I didn’t realize how the city slept beneath frost and ash. Landfills haunted by mountains of discarded garments. Fast fashion prowling like a ravenous beast. Its claws in rivers, forests and oceans. Leaving a trail of ruin, where colour once breathed. Clothes worn once or twice, so afraid to be caught in the same outfit. Spending money I didn’t have, on cheap clothes that didn’t last. Now? I’m not perfect, but I support small businesses when I can. Highlighting brands that are eco-conscious. At first, sustainability was daunting. Awash in beige, black, and white. I didn’t feel like I fit in. I was a maximalist, not a minimalist. Something that Eva Dragoeva’s attachable shirt accessories understood to a T. Nautical themed, circular design that was colourful, and eco-friendly. Pieces made by a pre-owned machine called Alice. Made from existing materials like men’s shirts, trousers, deadstock textiles and fabric remnants. I open the parcel and squeal in delight. A blue shirt with a white, green and red attachable. Made from cotton sheets, paired with a pleated blue mini skirt and lobster red tights. Red Mary Janes, a red beret hiding hair too wild to bend. This one’s my favourite, versatile, wearable. But the large autumnal floral acessory is a close second. Clings to my shirt paired with burgundy corduroy trousers. A burgundy baker boy hat tilted. Against the wind that tries to steal colour, from a world bleached by disposable seams. As I dance in limited edition pieces, during the most magical sustainable vegan Christmas yet.
Prices:
Autumnal Florals Attachable (Large) £45
Blue Shirt With Poppers £25
Red & White Attachable £45
Immaculate Vegan Marketplace
I hunt for Christmas gifts in the dead hours of night. The screen flickering like a dying lantern. Each search dragging me through the corpse-fields of fast-fashion giants. Empires stitched from exploitation,
stolen from animals’ screams. Torturing human hands down to nothing. Don’t we deserve better? To say no to clothes that smell like blood and landfill. Their “eco friendly” tags nothing but rot painted green away. I turn away and refuse the poison. Finding Immaculate Vegan through the digital fog. A sustainable vegan marketplace selling conscious clothes, accessories and shoes. Where nothing innocent needs to die for human greed. I scroll, using Ecosia, the search engine that plants trees. Shopping for cruelty-free gifts for my Aunty, Partner and me. For my partner I choose the Makulu Organic Twill Trousers from Komodo. Stonewashed in dark green. A casual trouser, with a corozo button, showing their commitement to sustainability. He pairs it with an organic green hoodie, made from deadstock materials. Blue trainers brought second hand. A navy blue cap, I gifted him years ago. For my Aunty, something special. Raven Vegan Sneakers in Bordeaux from Cog. A French brand commited to respect for animals, humans and the environment. Taking great care to ensure that every small component, down to the glue, is free from animal-derived ingredients. Wine-hued, she pops on her white trainer socks. A pair of dark-stonewashed jeans that she’s owned for twenty years. A white cardigan, and a scarf my grandma had passed down. And for me? The Davina Gingham Midi Dress from Baukjen caught my eye. Pink and burgundy, with a scoop neckline. One of the highest scoring B Corps in fashion in the UK. I paired it with pink sustainable velvet flats with a floral design. A deadstock burgundy and pink gingham bow. One more goodie for a sustainable vegan Chrismas. Harmony Patent Vegan Leather Shoes from Minuit sur Terre. Made in Portugal using cereals, and recycled materials. A dashing red, my Christmas special. Paired with a red tweed blazer and short. Layered over red tights.
Prices:
Makulu Organic Twill Trousers £80 (instead of £100)
Harmony Patent Vegan Leather Shoes £168
Raven Vegan Sneakers £110
Davina Gingham Midi Dress £118 (instead of £169
*Please note I wasn’t gifted any products. I thought it would be an amazing marketplace to showcase.
Planet-Friendly Wellness Gifts
Bird & Blend Caffeine Free Advent Calendar- need to photograph
When Christmas drags its frostbitten carcass across the threshold of December, I feel the air thicken. A feral starving thing gnawing on the edges of the world. I answer it the only way I know how. With a vegan caffeine-free ritual. My tea brewing with my current favourite. Deckchair Dreaming drenched in chamomile, apple and orange peel. Steam rising like lost souls clawing their way out. For one last sip of warmth. Amber liquid the colour of a cracked mirror frame. My hands shake, numb from then cold. Letting the heat of the mug bite into my palms. Watching reruns of Drag Race, a burst of colour and sequin that brings me so much joy. A glutinous black cat curled at my feet, while I burrow in threadbare blankets. His purr a low incantation vibrating through bone and blood. A sound that keeps the winter demons from crawling under the doorframe. I unwrap my caffeine free advent calendar from Bird & Blend, red and gold. A star begging me to open its mystery doors. A B Corp brand whose business is part of a regenerative culture giving back to the earth. All consumer packaging recyclable or compostable. Situated in community, from their ChariTEA initiatives, to volunteering locally. I turn my attention back to the advent calendar. A vegetable soup seething on the stove. Spitting steam in ghostly ribbons. A day of taste testing, until I settle on my favourites. Mulled Cider, laced with ginger, cinnamon and hibiscuis. I dunk a vegan shortbread cookie into its addictive waters. Hot Cinnamon, with chilli, cinnamon and rooibos tea. It tastes like Christmas on steriods. Fruits Of The Forage, different to what i’d normally go for. Blackberry and raspberry, blended with strawberry. Ginger and rosehip rounding it out. The rest of the advent calendar was a delight too. 2 bags per day, 48 cups in total. Plastic-free, and one tree planted for every calendar. A free crafting pattern and a brand new mystery blend. A sustainable vegan Christmas, that I almost didn’t want to open.
Price: £39.50
Wellbox Vegan And Gluten Free Christmas Hamper
Homelessness prowls the city like a wolf in shadow. Teeth chattering, frosted breath, blue fingertips. Pressing against doors that won’t open. Against pavements that had seen better days. They beg for help, but everyone turns a blind eye. I see people’s dirty looks. As though the homeless are ghosts in discarded alleyways. Don’t they have compassion? Won’t they give them a smile, and support? Offer warm blankets and cozy gloves. Buy them a hot cup of tea, and a warm meal. But I see them. Donating essentials to foodbanks, in hope of reducing homelessness. Carrying bags through the rain, heavy with tins, roots and grains. Gathering bags worth of clothes that are no longer used and donating them to charity. Volunteering at soup kitchens, pouring broth as thick as midnight. Listening to the whispered gratitude that sticks to the walls like smoke. Smiling as their faces light up, seen at last. But the city’s neglect is palpable. Reading the story of a homeless man that was killed by a truck. Someone I had met a few times, with his cat and dog. Who I always made sure to have a conversation with. We had to better, we will do better. Help the homeless to have a hot meal. To find warm shelter. So when I found Wellbox, I fell in love instantly. Offering corporate gifts that donate one meal to someone sleeping rough. Partnering with grass-root charities to end homelessness and hunger in the UK. Charities including Mind, Barnabus and St Mungo’s that I hold dear in my heart. I opt for the Vegan and Gluten Free Christmas Hamper, the non-alcoholic version. A beautiful grey sustainable keepsake box, with a personalized printed message that made me smile. A non-alcoholic Belvoir elderflower sparkling cordial. The local community trawling 60 acres for organic elderflower. But my personal favourite? Galloway Lodges’s Spicy Pear Chutney, that was rich, bold and packed heat. Slathered on Olina’s Bakehouse Crackers, in original. Made with wholesome seeds of fibre and protein. There were sweet treats too. Lazy Day Scottish Shortbread, that crumbled gloriously in my mouth. Using sustainble palm oil. Elizabeth Shaw Mint Rounds, with honeycomb crisp. Ethical chocolate with the royal warrant. To finish? Creative Nature Magiballs, in creamy mylk chocolate. In sustainable packaging, and palm oil free.
Price: £39.95
Sustainable Christmas Gifts
MFPA Wrapping Paper + Jigsaw Puzzle- need to photograph
I am always in awe of my foster sister. Someone who was born with William’s Syndrome, but was the happiest person you could meet. Endlessly joyful, creative and talented. Who loved to dance, sing, and play with cuddly toys. She’d go ‘ethical’ horse riding, and help out farms. Befriend Turkey’s and Chicken’s and show me pictures of them on her I-Pad. A keen interest in taking photos and videos, just like me. She was someone who always existed without labels. Who despite her cognitive development issues, physcial ailments, and intellectual disability, was still the bravest person I knew. I had other family members with physical and mental health disabilities as well. Even myself, was diagnosed as having a learning disability from a young age. I had speech and language therapy, and was in an SEN unit at a mainstream school. It was all these factors that made me work with disabled children. From disabled workshops, to special needs classes, I loved helping others. It was this passion that made me support MFPA, several years ago. A partnership of disabled artists, whose original prints get produced in sustainable vegan Christmas gifts. With fair labour practices, safe working conditions and transparent relationships with suppliers, it had to be included. I found an 1000 puzzle piece of a colourful harbour, that I knew my Aunty would love. Someone who also worked with disabled adults in the past. She bit her lip, as the rain hammered outside. The puzzle from an original painting painted by Rob Trent, using his feet. The deep blues and golds on the river harbour were striking. The second, 12 stunning sheets of wrapping paper designed by mouth and foot painters. A robin coated in white snow. A red and blue Christmas tree with cobalt presents.
Prices:
Wrapping Paper & Tags £12.50
1000 Piece Jigsaw Puzzle £14
What Sustainable Vegan Christmas Gift Is On Your Wishlist?
*Disclaimer
Please note I was sent sustainable vegan Christmas gifts in exchange for inclusion. But all thoughts are my own and are not affected by gifted products.
Leave a Reply