Ah, mixtapes: the lost art of carefully curating a sequence of songs, whether to introduce the recipient to new musical delights, to show off your own impeccable tastes or as a nerdy, clumsily cliched and wildly optimistic seduction technique (or all three simultaneously).
Me? Guilty as charged. I cringe myself inside out at some of the things to which I subjected girlfriends prospective or actual.
This article finds Guardian readers paying touching tribute to the humble homemade compilation as a wooing device, a symbol of sibling affection, a cornerstone of musical education or - in the case of Sofia Ilyas, raised in an oppressively religious household - "a quiet act of rebellion".
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