You Paid $60K for a Facelift and Bought Him a Montblanc?

So let me get this straight:
You just dropped a small mortgage on your face. We’re talking full lift, snatch, suck, and sculpt. You financed your forehead, traded in your jowls like a leased car, and now? You’re buying your plastic surgeon an Hermès blanket as a thank-you?

Apparently, this is a thing now in NYC.

And not just a one-time thing. I’ve been hearing story after story of women sending their plastic surgeons luxury gifts after surgery. Not a bottle of wine. Not a sweet handwritten card. I’m talking Prada gift boxes, Cartier bracelets, and yes, a custom Montblanc pen engraved with his initials. Because nothing says “thanks for lifting my neck” like a $2,000 pen for a man who charged you $65,000 to erase your tired face from 2017.

Look, I get it. We love a good glow-up. I too have a folder in my phone called “face goals” and a standing Botox appointment that’s more sacred than Shabbat. This isn’t me judging , this is me asking what the fuck is going on.

Please explain. These are not your friends. They’re not your spiritual advisors. They’re highly compensated professionals who just charged you more than your kid’s college tuition to tighten your neck. And now you’re sending a handwritten note and a Tiffany paperweight?

Imagine giving your primary care physician a Louis Vuitton wallet after your physical. Or your gyno a Loewe tote for your annual. “Thanks for checking my cervix, thought you’d love this Bottega.” No! It’s weird. Why are we suddenly treating plastic surgeons like they’re groomsmen in our wedding?

Maybe it’s a New York thing. Maybe it’s a status thing. Maybe it’s some twisted psychology where you feel indebted to the man who literally peeled your face off and handed it back to you ten years younger.

But here’s where I stand:
I’m not against showing appreciation. I write thank-you notes. I bring gifts to dinner parties. I over-tip the waiter. But I draw the line at dropping four figures on a man who charged me a down payment on a home to rearrange my cheekbones.

They already got the gift. It’s called your entire face and your entire bank account. These guys are doing just fine. They’re booked eight months out, flying private, and their wives are already wearing the scarf you almost bought for yourself.

So if you’re feeling that post-op glow and really want to give a gift? Give it to YOU. Buy the La Mer. Book the trip. Invite your friends over for a reveal.
Sure, he did the cutting but YOU did the bruising, the hiding, the icing, and the lying to your coworkers.

Anyway. Just something I’ve been seeing more and more of, and I had to ask:
Have we completely lost our minds?
xx,
A