Space-age plastic woodgrain, spotted at Goodwill. Those who do not learn their design history are doomed to re-implement it!
Showing posts with label goodwill. Show all posts
Showing posts with label goodwill. Show all posts
Sunday, September 22, 2013
Everything Skeu is Old Again
For those Apple iDevice caretakers who are mourning the replacement of their textured, shadowed UI with the new candy-colored iOS 7 retinal riot, I present an island of skeuomorphic calm:
Space-age plastic woodgrain, spotted at Goodwill. Those who do not learn their design history are doomed to re-implement it!
Space-age plastic woodgrain, spotted at Goodwill. Those who do not learn their design history are doomed to re-implement it!
Friday, July 19, 2013
Replacement
Had it been any other machine, I would have opted either to leave it behind, or put it directly up for adoption...
But you know, I have this weakness... for all things Olympia.
Especially SM3s, and extra-especially ones with a Pica typeface. I find the bigger face easier to read and edit, and it seems to scan better for me at NaNoWriMo time.
The tweedy case threw me off at first, and it was locked, so if nothing else, I had to solve the mystery. I gathered up my tiny collection of case keys (two) and hoped that one would fit so I could solve The Secret of the Anonymous Case at Goodwill. Evidently, junior sleuths the world over have nothing to fear, as closer inspection the next day revealed that someone had masking-taped the manual to the outside of the case. Tucked inside the manual, though, were the added bits of ephemeral joy scanned above: the original invoice, and the lifetime lubrication and oiling certificate, sealed by the Northern California Office Machine Dealers Association. As soon as I build that time machine, I plan to dial it back and check out one of their regional meetings.
Peck's Office Appliance Company left a fine sticker inside the case which I'll have to photograph and include here. It's swag, to quote my teenager. The former site of Peck's appears to be smack in the middle of the BART line's Rockridge station, the San Francisco Bay Area Rapid Transit system: an electric elevated/subway train that is one of the major transit options around here. They're currently having a labor dispute, and we suffered from a strike back at the beginning of the summer that led to serious traffic headaches. They're still battling it out, leaving everyone scrambling for alternate ways to get around.
View Larger Map
That's something we don't really think about as commuters: the homes and businesses that were replaced by our transit system. It really only comes to mind in a few places along the line, as the tracks skirt close to a crumbling property or appears in the narrow buffer between streets. Rockridge was one of the stops on the line that I rode for years in and out of San Francisco. BART opened in the 1970s, and was a fixture out in the suburbs by the time I moved to California twenty-five or so years later. Rockridge station opened up in 1973, says Wikipedia, just nineteen years after this typewriter was sold. I don't know how long Peck's held on after that, but I don't think I'll be able to cash in on that "Lifetime Lubrication" offer any time soon.
Like all good Olys, this one needs the standard bushing replacement surgery. It's no big deal: I'm familiar with the process now, and know exactly where to go in the hardware store for the replacement parts.
Replacing a set of crushed and fossilized bushings hardly warrants a mention...
What this does mean, though, is that one of the other machines is now up for adoption. After some soul-searching, I've put up a Smith-Corona Sterling that's basically sat idle since it came in on a swap from Olivander of Machines of Loving Grace fame. It, along with the other machines, are up on a new dedicated "adoption" page. This might be the best way for me to deal with the thrill of the hunt, without the space considerations of the "trophies": find 'em, fix em, find new homes for 'em. Sometimes replacement is the only way.
UPDATE: the lighting couldn't be much worse for these. Anyone know a secret for getting White-Out out of crinkle paint? (At least I hope it's White-Out)
Ted's database says 1953 for serial number 403296. Sounds about right to me.
Golden label with green lettering, just about the same as the paint color. Stylin'! I wouldn't mind this being on the machine itself, but it's discreetly tucked inside the case lid.
But you know, I have this weakness... for all things Olympia.
Especially SM3s, and extra-especially ones with a Pica typeface. I find the bigger face easier to read and edit, and it seems to scan better for me at NaNoWriMo time.
The tweedy case threw me off at first, and it was locked, so if nothing else, I had to solve the mystery. I gathered up my tiny collection of case keys (two) and hoped that one would fit so I could solve The Secret of the Anonymous Case at Goodwill. Evidently, junior sleuths the world over have nothing to fear, as closer inspection the next day revealed that someone had masking-taped the manual to the outside of the case. Tucked inside the manual, though, were the added bits of ephemeral joy scanned above: the original invoice, and the lifetime lubrication and oiling certificate, sealed by the Northern California Office Machine Dealers Association. As soon as I build that time machine, I plan to dial it back and check out one of their regional meetings.
Peck's Office Appliance Company left a fine sticker inside the case which I'll have to photograph and include here. It's swag, to quote my teenager. The former site of Peck's appears to be smack in the middle of the BART line's Rockridge station, the San Francisco Bay Area Rapid Transit system: an electric elevated/subway train that is one of the major transit options around here. They're currently having a labor dispute, and we suffered from a strike back at the beginning of the summer that led to serious traffic headaches. They're still battling it out, leaving everyone scrambling for alternate ways to get around.
View Larger Map
That's something we don't really think about as commuters: the homes and businesses that were replaced by our transit system. It really only comes to mind in a few places along the line, as the tracks skirt close to a crumbling property or appears in the narrow buffer between streets. Rockridge was one of the stops on the line that I rode for years in and out of San Francisco. BART opened in the 1970s, and was a fixture out in the suburbs by the time I moved to California twenty-five or so years later. Rockridge station opened up in 1973, says Wikipedia, just nineteen years after this typewriter was sold. I don't know how long Peck's held on after that, but I don't think I'll be able to cash in on that "Lifetime Lubrication" offer any time soon.
Like all good Olys, this one needs the standard bushing replacement surgery. It's no big deal: I'm familiar with the process now, and know exactly where to go in the hardware store for the replacement parts.
Replacing a set of crushed and fossilized bushings hardly warrants a mention...
What this does mean, though, is that one of the other machines is now up for adoption. After some soul-searching, I've put up a Smith-Corona Sterling that's basically sat idle since it came in on a swap from Olivander of Machines of Loving Grace fame. It, along with the other machines, are up on a new dedicated "adoption" page. This might be the best way for me to deal with the thrill of the hunt, without the space considerations of the "trophies": find 'em, fix em, find new homes for 'em. Sometimes replacement is the only way.
UPDATE: the lighting couldn't be much worse for these. Anyone know a secret for getting White-Out out of crinkle paint? (At least I hope it's White-Out)
Ted's database says 1953 for serial number 403296. Sounds about right to me.
Golden label with green lettering, just about the same as the paint color. Stylin'! I wouldn't mind this being on the machine itself, but it's discreetly tucked inside the case lid.
Thursday, April 5, 2012
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Crazy
(Photography note: the keys are white-on-black, not gold as they appear here. The light was less-than-ideal in these shots.)
Maybe it's a little unhealthy, but I really can't stop looking at this machine. Some of it is giddiness over getting it at a price I can agree with, part of it is just for it typing so darn well right out of the case, except for some hangups now and then that I'm attributing to rails in need of cleaning. I don't have very many black-lacquer machines in my collection, but boy is this nice. And the basket ("floating") shift is a treat, especially with that lovely key design.
Yes, I've gone a little crazy. Haven't we all been there, basking in the warm afterglow of a new acquisition?
Friday, September 16, 2011
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
New Guy
Hey, who's that over there on the desk?
Hmm, I don't think I've ever seen him before. Swiss, is he? Or French?
Eñe guesses?
Ooh! I think I know!
He's from the future.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Regrets Unfounded?
Typed, with growing admiration, on an SCM Corsair Deluxe
- A Typewriter for a Wizard @ Dante's Wardrobe
- The purchase
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Seein' Green
I won't even preface this one with excuses, I'll just jump right to the money shot:
Yes, it's another super-minimal function travel typewriter, and it's darn cute, to boot. I got a complement from someone on it's handsome carrying case. ("That's a cool bag," he said, likely not knowing what was inside.) And even my wife thought it cute and surprisingly small, after I skulked back home with That Guilty Look on my face.
I paid too much, but I've already justified that by figuring that I've done well this summer by thrifted and free finds, and shopping at Goodwill is kind of like giving to a charity, and... and... and...
My karmic balance has been righted, I say. Namaste.
Of course, my real purpose was not to be parted from my green by buying something green. But intentions have a way of slipping through your fingers. I also didn't intend to bring home the 2008 copy of Writer's Market, and yet there it was, sitting in my other hand at checkout. I was clearly in a transcendental state and not fettered by rational thinking (as usual.) But my wife's been making noises about doing a little short-fiction writing of her own -- little hope of swaying her to typers, as of yet -- and who knows? Intentions are slippery things. It can't hurt to have a net ready in case one of them jumps in the boat.
Yes, it's another super-minimal function travel typewriter, and it's darn cute, to boot. I got a complement from someone on it's handsome carrying case. ("That's a cool bag," he said, likely not knowing what was inside.) And even my wife thought it cute and surprisingly small, after I skulked back home with That Guilty Look on my face.
I paid too much, but I've already justified that by figuring that I've done well this summer by thrifted and free finds, and shopping at Goodwill is kind of like giving to a charity, and... and... and...
My karmic balance has been righted, I say. Namaste.
Of course, my real purpose was not to be parted from my green by buying something green. But intentions have a way of slipping through your fingers. I also didn't intend to bring home the 2008 copy of Writer's Market, and yet there it was, sitting in my other hand at checkout. I was clearly in a transcendental state and not fettered by rational thinking (as usual.) But my wife's been making noises about doing a little short-fiction writing of her own -- little hope of swaying her to typers, as of yet -- and who knows? Intentions are slippery things. It can't hurt to have a net ready in case one of them jumps in the boat.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Hip at Last?
...or midlife crisis? Or lucky coincidence? Probably more of the latter. I stumbled into an original Polaroid SX70 yesterday completely unexpectedly and grabbed it if only for he eBay potential. I still have a few boxes of the expired film stash that I found last year, although it's the wrong speed for this camera, it can be made to fit, and after a failed test shot, I managed a blurry one of one of the flowering bushes in our yard:
Overexposure and old film makes it hard to pick out what you're seeing: here's a black-and-white conversion of the same shot:
The SX70 is desirable among the hipster crowd, possibly because it's one of the few Polaroid cameras that is a "reflex" model: that is, when you look through the viewfinder, a set of mirrors and lenses is letting you peek through the actual lens, allowing a fine degree of focus -- much finer than the rainbow-striped "One Step" or "The Button" models that it seems like everyone had in the 70's and 80's. It's a cool little camera, and while trying to figure out how to fit the wrong film inside* I found this pretty-awesome version of the old SX70 ad with "Garbageman" by The Cramps overlaid:
(caution: may cause unexplained rocking out)
Turns out the original video was directed by the infamous Eames brothers, best-known to me of the creators of the Eames Lounge Chair, which was the chair of choice of my late photography-nut grandfather. The Eames name has become a shorthand to mean "mid-century design" and has a certain degree of hipness to it as well.
Suddenly I'm cool all over the place.
* The 600 film packs have little nubs on the bottom that get caught up in a tensioning spring in the SX70. You can use a playing card wedged under the film to make a little ramp as you slide it in, then remove the card to seat it properly. 600 film is faster than the original SX70 film, and there are instructions in the nets about using filters to trick the SX70 sensors into compensating, though it's not strictly necessary.
Overexposure and old film makes it hard to pick out what you're seeing: here's a black-and-white conversion of the same shot:
The SX70 is desirable among the hipster crowd, possibly because it's one of the few Polaroid cameras that is a "reflex" model: that is, when you look through the viewfinder, a set of mirrors and lenses is letting you peek through the actual lens, allowing a fine degree of focus -- much finer than the rainbow-striped "One Step" or "The Button" models that it seems like everyone had in the 70's and 80's. It's a cool little camera, and while trying to figure out how to fit the wrong film inside* I found this pretty-awesome version of the old SX70 ad with "Garbageman" by The Cramps overlaid:
(caution: may cause unexplained rocking out)
Turns out the original video was directed by the infamous Eames brothers, best-known to me of the creators of the Eames Lounge Chair, which was the chair of choice of my late photography-nut grandfather. The Eames name has become a shorthand to mean "mid-century design" and has a certain degree of hipness to it as well.
Suddenly I'm cool all over the place.
* The 600 film packs have little nubs on the bottom that get caught up in a tensioning spring in the SX70. You can use a playing card wedged under the film to make a little ramp as you slide it in, then remove the card to seat it properly. 600 film is faster than the original SX70 film, and there are instructions in the nets about using filters to trick the SX70 sensors into compensating, though it's not strictly necessary.
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