Unless you are one of those out-of-touch liberals who Still Don’t Get It about the US election result, you will concur that the best analysis of where we go from here has come from entertainment’s Gwyneth Paltrow. “People are clearly tired of the status quo,” she explained a couple of weeks ago. “It’s sort of like someone threw it all in the air and we’re going to see how it all lands. It’s very important for me, personally, now more than ever, to create a community and to remember the humanity of everybody and to create love and understanding.”

That is excellent positive thinking – particularly when you remember that the community Gwyneth is talking about is Goop, her self-curated lifestyle website that doubles as a rolling satire on late capitalism. Consequently, there will be some who find madam’s optimism for the role of Goop in Donald Trump’s America slightly counterintuitive. After all, if anything at all symbolised the insanity of unchecked elitism, then Goop was surely it, with its fringe health theories, ultraprime product ranges, and the all-pervasive sense that eating a processed foodstuff was not just a moral failing, but could literally send you into anaphylactic shock.

Yet it seems Gwyneth doesn’t see things that way. In fact, she regards the presidential election result as a fantastic opportunity. “It’s such an exciting time to be an American because we are at this amazing inflection point and everything is kind of up in the air,” she has declared. Furthermore, she believes it is “such an amazing time for entrepreneurship”. (A view that is certainly shared by Ivanka Trump, who press released the $10,800 bangle she wore when she and her father appeared on 60 Minutes shortly after his election.)

As for Gwyneth’s evolving business plan, I really picture her reading four or five articles on the left-behind in the immediate aftermath of Trump’s win, and – in very short order – managing to work herself into the declared state of entrepreneurial excitement, thinking: “How hard can it be? I’ll bet I can reach out to those people with the offer of a vagina steam or a $46,000 Hermès mahjong set, to say nothing of a ‘long read’ on the business of consciously uncoupling or creating herbal alternatives to canine antidepressants.”

That said, the result does appear to have happened a bit close to deadline for Goop’s legendary annual Christmas gift guide to adapt entirely. But last year does seem to have been the high-water mark of batshit commerce, with its offer of $956 loo paper, and so much else besides. Were Gwyneth to have continued in this vein, this year’s guide would have consisted of products such as single-use zeppelins or a black-diamond-studded bumper sticker reading DON’T BLAME ME – I VOTED HILLARY.

Instead, she appears to have adapted to changing times, without sacrificing Goop’s crucial ingredient of WTF-ery. For instance, one could argue that, in her own way, Gwyneth is now making direct overtures to the survivalist elements of Trump’s base. Yes, having long run a website which appears to deliberately goad the apocalypse, Gwyneth has begun to vertically integrate into selling you the tools to cope with the fallout of that event, even though all you’ll really need is a selection of assault rifles, militia leadership qualities and an ability to pretend that murder can be justified on an increasingly regular basis. Unfortunately, Gwyneth hasn’t got any of those in stock. But what she has got this year is a $399 dual jet pack, which apparently contains everything two people will need to survive for 72 hours (six blow-dries not included).

Still, it’s fair to say that the guide doesn’t appear to have done a full 180 towards the rust belt, given the section pushing “fabulous jewellery guaranteed to make her smile”. I should coco, at £437,400 for one pair of earrings.

Other highlights? A coffee-table book explaining where to get pizza anywhere in the world – a notoriously hard-to-accomplish task. Don’t take a trip without it. Another personal favourite is the $8,300 yurt, which has been “adapted to North American conditions”. Because, let’s face it: the Gobi desert has its challenges, but it’s nothing on a California backyard.

If that doesn’t tick off one hard-to-buy-for relative, how about the $199 pelvic floor exerciser? “Ultimately,” explains Gwyneth, “it’s the gift of a better orgasm.” Tell that imperiously to your mum when she’s unwrapped it and is pretending it’s so much better than the sheepskin wellington boot insoles she asked for.

All in all, though, my favourite section is entitled “Gifts for the Philanthropist”. This runs to a mere two suggestions: “send someone to college” and “fund an entire study”. It feels well-pitched. Among a certain stripe of grand people, there’s a real one-downmanship to Christmas giving. You know the sort of thing: “We have a £10 limit”/“We only do presents for the children.” Well done them. But this year I’m planning to win this game hands-down, by going around saying: “We only fund research grants.”

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