Who's your daddy?
Father's Day gifts for the G.O.A.T.s
Ah, Father’s Day. That annual reminder that the man who taught you how to ride a bike, program a DVR, and avoid over-drafting your checking account now mostly wants socks and silence. But what if this year… we zag?
If there’s any gift guide I take seriously, it’s this one. My dad happens to be one of my best friends. He’s the first person I call when something breaks, when I need advice, or when I need a second opinion on whether my husband is holding the screwdriver correctly. He’s part confidant, part human Swiss Army knife, and part mystery.
So yes — I care about getting it right.
Whether he’s a classic Dad™ (re: owns a drill, and frequently says “there’s a lot of ways to spend money honey”) or a Zaddy in the wild (re: hot, well moisturized, and can finish every line from Indiana Jones without skipping a beat, these gifts say:
Thank you for the genes, the jeans, and the dubious financial advice.
From the boardroom to the back-nine, here’s what to buy the man who insists he doesn’t want anything (but will be offended if you take that at face value).
For the father who puts the “fit” in father figure
Maybe he only wears a suit for weddings, funerals, and that one time he had jury duty, or maybe he’s the kind of dad who treats the airport like a runway and calls his loafers “investment pieces.” Either way, there’s something moving about a man with good taste in well-cut tailoring.
Enter: the quiet luxury gods. Brioni, Zegna, a hint of Loro Piana. Things so elegant they look like they come with a glass of Barolo and an NDA. Whether it’s a tie that says “I’ve already read the FT this morning” or a blazer so soft it could double as a bathrobe, this is the lane for the dads who know the power of a lapel.
For the dad who swears he was this close to going pro
He calls it the course. You call it his one true love. His swing has a name (pick up your purse, Alice!), his Sunday foursome is sacred, and he somehow manages to monologue about tempo, torque, and shoulder rotation with the intensity of a TED Talk.
So no, he doesn’t need another golf bag — but he will absolutely notice that this one’s a new Titleist. And yes, he already has golf balls, but these are Pro V1s, and to him, that’s basically artisanal. Throw in a polo with more airflow than a TaylorMade driver and a deodorant that smells like Amalfi on contact, and you’ve just made his year.
Because the only thing better than shaving strokes off his game?
Looking good while doing it.
For the dad who peaked in 1986 (and never looked back)
This is for the dad whose style icons are Elvis, Schwarzenegger, and Travolta — in that order. He owns leather jackets that have lived, cologne that predates your birth, and at least one pair of sunglasses he insists are “back in.” He has opinions about car interiors. He calls his stereo a hi-fi. And when the mood is right (usually after two Negronis), he still knows the Saturday Night Fever choreography.
You don’t shop for this dad at the mall. You go vintage. You go weird. You go deep cut.
Like a silver Hermès money clip shaped like a dog (because man’s best friend deserves to hold his petty cash). Or a working LEGO phone, which he’ll proudly install next to his vintage turntable and a dog-eared 1989 calendar that’s been frozen on August — Elle Macpherson, mid-hair flip, forever.
For the dad who runs on coffee and cowboy code
Your dad lives somewhere on the spectrum between John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever and Urban Cowboy—part disco, part dust storm. One day he’s in Miron Crosby boots that look ready for a honky-tonk standoff; the next he’s wearing a Stetson that’s seen more sunrises than a fishing boat. And that Japanese denim jacket? Kevin Costner wore it once on Yellowstone, and he’s been chasing that energy ever since.
He drinks his coffee black, strong enough to fuel a cattle drive, and speaks in few words, all of them correct. He has opinions about belt buckles, knows how to fix a fence (even if he never has), and when the wind hits just right, he stares into the distance like he’s waiting for a showdown.
Gift him something that keeps up with his slow-burn swagger—say, a Leica M6 for documenting life on his terms, or anything with grit and soul that nods to the wild spirit stitched into his DNA.
For the dad who was into Gore-Tex before it was cool
This is the dad who thinks nature is the ultimate flex. His idea of self-care is an 18-mile hike. He filters his own water (for fun), thinks granola is a personality trait, and considers GPS “cheating.” He’s got trekking poles in the trunk, brand new bear spray in the glove box, and a deep mistrust of anyone who can’t start a fire from scratch.
He taught you the difference between a good hike and a character-building one. His parka could summit Everest. His beard? One Duck Call away from Willie Robertson.
Gift him something durable, high-functioning, and ruggedly smug — like, I could live off the grid, but then who would fix your tire?
And lastly, for the CEO of Casa de Dad
This is the dad with a strong stance on olive oil, a borderline obsessive relationship with his Vitamix, and a deeply personal connection to his grill. He has a signature cocktail (Stoli with a twist), a preferred ice cube shape (sphere), and a sixth sense for when the dishwasher has been loaded “incorrectly.”
He wears an apron like it's formalwear, keeps a ceramic table lamp glowing in every corner “for ambiance,” and maintains the home in a state of permanent guest readiness — as if Stanley Tucci might drop by at any moment.
For the dad who’s elevated domesticity to an art form, gift accordingly: a Dior aftershave he’ll never admit he loves, a caviar dish that says “yes, I entertain,” and anything that makes his domain feel just a touch more curated.
And if you’re really stuck, fall back on the classics (with a twist).
Premium car washing supplies from Griot’s Garage, because no one buffs like Dad. Power tools I won’t pretend to understand but will absolutely nod enthusiastically at. A gift card to P. Johnson for a custom suit he’ll insist is “too nice to wear anywhere.” An upgrade to his beloved grill from Blackstone. Cuff links from Missing Link in NYC for a little old-school swagger. A Scotty Cameron putter (trust me on this one) so he can chase par glory all summer. A Solo Stove bonfire for backyard philosophizing.
And when all else fails?
A fully loaded gift card to his preferred driving range so he can work on perfecting his swing, his tempo, and his belief that he “could’ve gone pro.”
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