Recently a document landed on my desk purporting to reveal a scoop. “America”, it announced, “is quickly moving to a new ‘Momocracy’” – this according to research by the Luxury Council, a New York-based think-tank. The point was that mothers are increasingly in charge of deciding what to buy – not just for themselves but for everyone in their families, especially when it comes to big, glossy purchases.

This is news?

On the surface, you’d think not. You’d think the response should be – as, in fact, the guy who sent me the release noted on his e-mail – “is anyone really surprised, except marketeers?” After all, just take a look at the stores around you today, clogged by mothers deciding what to buy Dad for his big day: it’s women, wall-to-wall, running the spend.

And yet, if you listened to those women, you might well hear, again and again: “I have no idea what to get him – whenever he wants something, he just buys it for himself.” And you might well see a giant line of females by the accessory display, once again resorting to that Father’s Day standby, the cashmere sock (the leather card-case/wallet being a close second, and ties taking third). For, while deciding what to buy for the family may be, indeed, a Mom thing, deciding what to buy for the father is ... well, it’s a Dad thing.

Or so it seems to me, anyway. Almost every time I ask my husband what he wants, he says, “I don’t know,” or “Nothing.” I can only think of two exceptions to this rule, one of which occurred when we moved to New York from London and went through a real winter, and he announced he wanted a Puffa jacket and I introduced him to Montcler (with terrific results; if your husband needs one, I highly recommend this). The other occurred recently, when he said what he really, really wanted for his birthday was a table saw.

More typical, however, was another experience, when it was clear my beloved (MB) needed some casual clothes and, in an effort not to get it wrong, I had our children blindfold him and lead him to a local Gap store, where the idea was, once the blindfold was removed, he would pick what he wanted and we would buy it. We wandered around together for a while, and then he announced he didn’t want anything, except to leave. He was having an allergic reaction to retail.

Not long thereafter, I was away on a business trip and got an excited phone call from home: MB had found himself walking on Savile Row and, with time to kill, wandered into Richard James and Turnbull & Asser during the sales and suddenly realised he needed shirts, socks and trousers. “It was great!” he marvelled. “Sales are great! We have to go again!” The thing is, though, had I said, “Honey, I am going sale shopping, is there anything you need?” I’m almost certain the answer would have been, “No.” Which suggests the problem is not, in fact, rooted in the idea of stuff but in the idea of having to say what stuff you want when asked. It’s a communication problem.

. . .

Thus, I’m not sure what Momocracy might change. It could, I suppose, bring a form of gift liberation, where women buy what they want for themselves so often they can’t think of anything to suggest when asked for recommendations, and men, no longer holding the purse strings, start making wish-lists.

So, while we wait to see, I have the following last-minute suggestion for both those who have not pre-ordered silver cufflinks personalised with their children’s drawings, and for those whose husbands are unable to express any preferences: a computer bag/carry-all, by a little Italian label called Carmina Campus, that I think is the best accessory I have seen in years.

Founded a few years ago by Ilaria Venturini Fendi (yes, of the Fendi Fendis), Carmina Campus specialises in one-off pieces made from recycled materials but in a more laugh-out-loud, clever-and-coolly-elegant sort of way than I’ve ever seen before.

Rubber computer keyboard coverings, for example, are used as the protective bobbles on the bottom of bags; the man’s tote (£630 at Dover Street Market, London; or see www.carminacampus.org), is made from the sort of waterproof fabric that covers dinghies on yachts; and the hard plastic car sun visors to form the flaps on top (complete with mini-mirror). These hit every social/cultural trend that style industry watchers claim to see in the current market: they are deeply green, they are unique, they are hand-made and long-lasting, and they are neon light years ahead of the It bag.

Besides, those women who find they have some money left over and are willing to embody multiple consumer trends at once can always get one of Carmina Campus’s incredible, hippie-fringed bags made from leftover bits of real velvet pile carpet or the delicate evening purses made of pastel silver “lamé” sponges for themselves at the same time.

vanessa.friedman@ft.com
More columns at www.ft.com/friedman