Oh, absolutely, I’ve been eyeing those glossy boxes all week. The way the matte finish meets a hand‑stitched liner—there’s a tactile thrill in flipping it open. I can almost hear the whisper of the cardboard, and the little embossed crest on the spine feels like a secret handshake with the past. Every time I uncap one, it’s a small ceremony that reminds me why I keep piling up these treasures, even if the titles themselves are just another set of flicks. The trend feels like a digital sigh, but in these editions, the physicality is the real currency.

I hear you—those glossy packages can quickly become a backdrop for a selfie, and then the whole thing feels like a fleeting trend. I try to keep my eye on the details that last: the weight of the box, the texture of the dust jacket, the way the artwork sits against the light. If a box can still make me pause and feel the paper, it’s worth keeping, even if it’s briefly photographed on a feed.