This post reminds me of my favorite Playmobil set, 5504. A cop harasses a loaded hobo on a bench. It just seems to beg for some Benny Hill stop-motion animation—all it lacks are girls in petticoats.
As a direct follow on to Sunday’s post, NYTimes has an article up on the rise (and inevitable skyrocketing prices for) Victorian and Edwardian junk. In particular they chronicle the impeccable taste of Hollister and Porter Hovey, a pair of sisters with an exquisite collection of taxidermy, baubles, and club memorabilia.
It makes me happy for lovely things to get some press, but it’s like the stock market: the second there’s coverage on a trend, the trend is over.
Check out their stuff, it’s fantastic.
(Read: I’m nine kinds of jealous.)
Genius.
Aptly named Etsy seller i made you a beard makes and sells stunning prosthetic beards, stickers, and doctored photographs.
Keep it up.
For Janine, who’s always loved her beards.
[Via]
The New York Public Library may be a terrible employer, but boy do I love their digital archive. To be fair, I love their proper archives too, but being in Austin hampers my access a tad.
The Mid-Manhattan Library’s media collection includes thousands of manilla-foldered files filled with clippings. I can only imagine the effort that must have gone into filling those folders. A legion of flickering scissors dancing through a hundred years of magazines, catalogs, and newspapers.
This incredible set of images comes from an artist listed only as A.D.H., 1895. If only Scott Schuman could have captured this.
And my favorite…
Sadly, photobooths in San Francisco are few and far between. But hidden behind the bar, tucked in corner of the 500 Club, is this amazing digital-polaroid booth with perhaps the creepiest lighting in the industry.
Just look how scared poor Otis is.
I love the weight and gravity of an old lightswitch. Feeling that *chock* as it snaps into place restores a feeling of wonder about the use of electricity. It means something more when light requires the extra effort, and it commands more attention when the switchplate protrudes from the wall. It’s not a seamless, hidden, color-matched plastic convenience, but an honest-to-god appliance. And rather than being the means to an end, use of the switch is an end in and of itself.
That, and I can’t help but love the pressed steel body and stubby brown switch.
