I can’t help but wonder how many people will choose this gift for Christmas, imagining the stories that will unfold with it.

A snowy colored N.Y. skyline, white skyscrapers shimmering under blue-illuminated trees. The Rockefeller skating rink.

I used to visit often during the holidays in the ’90s. Everyone would say “Merry Christmas” and then head back to their families. It felt like a movie moment, perfectly steeped in American culture. Back then, N.Y. was a mix of danger and thrill, going out to Jackie 60 in the Meatpacking District night after night was the height of status.

The drag queens, their intoxicating perfume clouds, everything was extreme, unforgettable. The snow-covered silent world looking up from Patricia Field’s apartment on 8th Street. As I make eggnog now, I think back to that wild era, when madness and Christmas somehow sat side by side.