It can save you money and time, but there are multiple hidden pitfalls to consider before regifting a gift you received
In Reader’s Digest’s new series, “Is It Really Rude to…,” Charlotte Hilton Andersen tackles low-stakes etiquette questions from everyday life using a combination of her common sense and vast knowledge from writing 50-plus etiquette stories for this site. Have a situation you can’t stop ruminating on? Email us at [email protected].
Every December, my house turns into the Island of Misfit Treats. People are very kind, and I am very grateful, but there are only so many candied nut tins, cellophane-wrapped caramel popcorn towers, and platters of sugar cookies one human family can consume without consequences. (And diabetes is not a good Christmas gift.)
So each year, I do what any responsible adult trying to avoid a sugar-induced breakdown would do: I rearrange them. Not “regift”—that sounds too gauche. I perform a delicate, shall we say, seasonal redistribution of resources. I place the treats on a new platter, include a personalized note (“Thought of you!” … which is true, because I did), and give them to a co-worker or a different neighbor in a totally different zone of the neighborhood ecosystem, so no one recognizes their own fudge boomeranging back home. And as a bonus, it neatly solves my deep-seated belief that if someone gives me a gift, I must immediately give one back.
It’s basically sustainability with a bow on it. And yet … I always feel guilty, like the Ghost of Giftsmas Past is going to pop out of the pantry and shake his chains at me. And this made me wonder: Is regifting actually rude? Or is it the most practical tradition since the invention of the gift bag?
To find out, let’s explore both sides of the regifting debate.
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The case for regifting: Reduce, reuse, re-present
First of all, humans have been regifting since the dawn of time. Caveman A gives Caveman B a rock; Caveman B thinks, I already have a rock, and gives it to Caveman C. We call that anthropology. And the tradition lives on. Modern life demands efficiency, and regifting is nothing if not efficient. Why let something sit in a cabinet until the next decluttering craze hits you like a shame tornado? Why not give that brand-new, never-opened, totally nice item to someone who will actually use it? It’s economical. It’s environmentally friendly. It’s basically the circle of life, but with lotion gift sets.
And let us not forget my wedding-regift incident—a master morality lesson in the ethics and etiquette of gifting. On our Very Special Day, we received what appeared to be a very fancy, very expensive electric teakettle. The problem? We don’t drink tea. So we returned it and got $75 in store credit. Score! We used it on boring, necessary newlywed things like towels and a lamp that wasn’t a fire hazard. Two weeks later, the store manager called, furious. Someone had bought the kettle and discovered—wait for it—an obviously used cut-glass Easter basket inside. Why??? Why hide it in a teakettle box? Why not at least remove the old pastel grass?
Turns out that person had regifted it to us. So then we had to go pay the store back the $75, and in return, we were handed the world’s ugliest, most emotionally charged Easter basket. And for two months, I hated that thing with a ferocity I normally reserve for people who chew gum at 80 decibels—until divine inspiration hit when my grandmother’s birthday rolled around. She loved tchotchkes. I do not. Plus, she once gave me used underwear from a garage sale for my birthday (age 12, height of vulnerability). So really, this was not regifting. This was cosmic balance being restored.
And she loved it. Honestly, it was probably the most on-brand gift I ever gave her. (I did clean out the old grass.)
So yes—regifting can be noble, practical, and karmically consistent.
The case against regifting: The danger of the boomerang
And yet, there are very real perils. Which you already understand if you’ve ever had a regifting catastrophe. Like the time I regifted a water bottle … and didn’t notice that the giver had engraved it with my name. Oops. Regifting is a high-stakes sport. It requires memory, strategy and a level of social mapping usually reserved for spies and reality-show housewives. Give the fruitcake to the wrong branch of the friend tree, and suddenly three people are texting each other: “Didn’t I give this to you?” “Wait—I thought YOU gave it to me?” “Why is there a card that says ‘Merry Christmas, Phil’ inside?”
Regifting can also go catastrophically wrong if:
- You misjudge a person’s taste. You: “Here, I thought you’d love this bath bomb shaped like a dragon egg.” Them: “I’m physically allergic to fragrance and emotionally allergic to fantasy.”
- The gift has been quietly discontinued since 2013. “Why do these chocolates have an expiration date from 10 years ago?”
- The gift is open or used in any way. Someone once “regifted” me a tube of lip balm they’d clearly already tried. OK, it was my 5-year-old. She stole it from my purse and told me it was a present—sweet thought, horrifying execution.
- The original giver has the memory of a Renaissance courtier. They ask, “How are you liking the puzzle of the Italian coastline I gave you?” and you respond by staring blankly while picturing it wrapped in new tissue paper under someone else’s tree right now.
- The gift was given to be one-of-a-kind or have particular sentimental value. It’s one thing to regift an unopened bottle of hand lotion. It’s entirely different to regift a hand-crocheted baby blanket made by your aunt in your nursery colors.
Regifting also just feels shady. You’re doing a good thing by giving a gift. But you’re also keeping a mental spreadsheet of “who can receive what” without sparking a neighborhood scandal. And the guilt! My word. Nothing humbles a person faster than carefully scraping someone else’s toffee crumbs into a fresh container while whispering, “This is fine, this is fine, this is responsible.”
The verdict: Regift, but with caution
My official ruling? Regifting is not rude. Thoughtlessness is rude. Waste is rude. But giving something new, unused and suited to someone else’s actual preferences is generosity in its most practical, planet-friendly form.
You just have to follow three commandments:
- Thou shalt not regift within the same friend/neighbor ecosystem. Regifting is like pollinating: cross-neighborhood only.
- Thou shalt remove all incriminating evidence. Cards, receipts, rogue keto-cookie crumbs, emotional baggage.
- Thou shalt match the gift to the person. Don’t give spa products to someone who hates lotions. Don’t give kitchen gadgets to someone who considers the microwave “cooking.” Don’t give Easter baskets from the seventh circle of weirdness to anyone but a tchotchke-loving grandmother.
So go ahead—regift joyfully, wisely and guilt-free. After all, someone out there really needs those candied nuts. And it’s definitely better than throwing them in the trash.
Tell me in the comments what you think of my holiday gifting idea—genius, gross or just the right amount of unhinged?
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