Stuff you didn't know
you wanted.

The Dyson Airstrait is our Hero today because it finally acknowledges that the "wash and dry" routine is a soul-crushing faff that takes up far too much of our finite time on this planet. It's for the person who wants to look like they've just stepped out of a Chelsea salon without actually having to endure the small talk or the three-hour appointment.

I've spent most of my life choosing between "damp and frizzy" or "dry but heat-damaged," so having a machine that does both simultaneously feels like a genuine glitch in the matrix. It's the Hero because it replaces two bulky appliances with one sleek, albeit slightly noisy, wand of power.

I've been using it to transform my post-shower bird's nest into something resembling human hair in record time, and I haven't even singed my fringe yet. It's peak "functional engineering" for people who are perpetually ten minutes late and haven't brushed their hair since Tuesday. Even if you're just staying in to watch telly, the Airstrait makes you feel like you've actually got your life together. It's the ultimate shortcut for the lazy perfectionist who demands high-tech results with minimal effort.

We've all been there: sat on a packed train trying to ignore the person eating a pungent egg sandwich while listening to a podcast through earbuds that sound like they were recovered from a cereal box. The Px8 is the Supporting act that restores your dignity by cocooning your skull in high-fidelity luxury and some very posh sheepskin.

It's for the person who thinks that "plastic" is a four-letter word and believes their ears deserve the same treatment as the interior of a Bentley. I've spent the afternoon ignoring my emails while submerged in a soundstage so wide I could practically hear the bassist's regret.

It's the ultimate "stay in your lane" accessory, signaling to the world that you are much too busy listening to remastered jazz to care about their nonsense. If you're going to block out the world, you might as well do it with carbon-fibre drivers and the smell of expensive leather. It's the gold standard for anyone who treats their playlist like a religious experience rather than background noise.

The Tractive Smart Dog Tracker is the Supporting kit for the owner of a dog who believes that "recall" is merely a polite suggestion rather than a command. It's for those of us who have spent a Sunday morning shouting a dog's name into a damp forest while passers-by look on with pity.

It turns your wandering hound into a digital blip on a map, allowing you to track their "adventures" (read: chasing a squirrel into the next county) from your phone. I've been using it to monitor my dog's fitness levels, only to discover that he spends 22 hours a day in a state of "profound rest" on my sofa.

It's a peace-of-mind gadget that stops the "missing dog" panic before it even begins, which is worth its weight in gold. No more scaling fences or knocking on neighbours' doors; just follow the blue dot and prepare your "disappointed parent" face.

The Aeropress Go is the Supporting device for the coffee snob who refuses to accept that "instant" is a valid beverage option, even when they're halfway up a mountain. It's for the person who would rather carry an extra half-kilo of gear than endure the lukewarm, brown water served at most campsites.

It's a masterpiece of nesting design, fitting a plunger, a stirrer, and a filter holder into a mug that doubles as a carrying case. I've used mine in hotel rooms, on trains, and once-quite ambitiously-in a very cramped tent during a thunderstorm.

It produces a cup of coffee so consistently excellent that it puts most high-street baristas to shame, all while looking like a sophisticated science experiment. It's the ultimate "don't talk to me yet" tool for the outdoor enthusiast who needs their caffeine fix before they can even consider putting their boots on.