A Digital Generation's Analog Chic
By JULIET CHUNG
When most people shop for a cellphone, considerations like aesthetics, size and features usually top the list. For most, the sleeker, the smaller and the more fully loaded the phone, the better.
But when Eugene Auh went trawling at eBay for a cheap cellphone last month, he searched for one with a decidedly anachronistic bent.
"I wanted the biggest cellphone I could find," said Mr. Auh, a 27-year-old investment manager in Philadelphia. His winning bid of $25.95 bought a Motorola DynaTac, a 1980's-era "brick" cellphone that fits more comfortably in a backpack than in a suit pocket.
Rather than subtracting from its charm, the phone's cumbersome size - it is roughly eight by two by three inches - is its main attraction, Mr. Auh said. Indeed, he plans to take the phone to work, to the gym and even to his nighttime haunts.
"Imagine this: I'll walk into a bar and ask for a girl's number, then break out my phone," he said. "How could you say no to that?"
While his attraction to digital relics may seem unusual, Mr. Auh is part of what appears to be a growing group of 20-somethings embracing yesterday's designs. These fans of retro technology are using ingenuity to find or fashion the perfect cellphones, gaming systems and computer cases - in effect ushering back a time they experienced only barely, if at all.
Take Ali Rahimi, 28, a graduate student at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. Mr. Rahimi became so fed up last year with what he called the "impersonal, unthinking" nature of modern communication that he attached an old-fashioned handset to his cellphone. The result was a cellphone-handset whose receiver restored the deliberate nature of communication, he said.
"When you're talking to your grandma on an old-style handset, you're very aware of its presence," Mr. Rahimi said. "The handset has been going through about a hundred years of evolution in design and, pretty much for what they do, they have the perfect shape."
In contrast, he said, the rectangular design of modern cellphones encourages talking at the phone, rather than into it. "You just talk and the cellphone picks up the sounds," he said.
The easy, ironic social commentary that ownership of such a device allows caused Amanda McCorquodale to pay $36 for a Pokia handset in a kitschy avocado green. The Pokia line, an assortment of vintage handsets that plug into cellphones along the same creative lines as Mr. Rahimi's model, is produced in limited quantities in Britain and is sold at eBay.
Stating an opinion that might warm the hearts of an older generation, Ms. McCorquodale, 25, a textbook editor who lives in Brooklyn, said, "I just think people use their cellphones a ridiculous amount." The handset is an easy way of mocking the phone's ubiquity while also allowing her a quiet protest "against having to use a cellphone all the time, but not wanting to."
The popularity of retro technology simply reflects, in part, how sophisticated modern technology has become, said Steven Lubar, a Brown University professor of American civilization who specializes in the history of technology.
When the available technology converges at a certain performance threshold, Dr. Lubar said, consumers begin to base their choices on nontechnical considerations like fashion to express their identity. Thus the appeal of retro gadgets.
"There's something liberating about picking and choosing technological styles from the past as a means of self-expression," Dr. Lubar said by e-mail. "Perhaps there's a bit of self-conscious irony here, too."
For some, retro joy comes in bulkier, less technologically advanced packages. At eBay last year, John Henry Flood, a 21-year-old Harvard sophomore, bought the 1985 Nintendo Entertainment System along with the Atari 2600, a console that makes the Nintendo system appear positively cutting edge. Covered in wood-grain paneling and plastic molding, the first Atari 2600 made its debut in 1977 and was the first widely popular gaming system, used to play video games like Space Invaders and Asteroids.
Another reminder of its age is a switch that gives gamers the option to optimize color resolution for black-and-white televisions.
But the vintage nature of the machines means that games are cheap and easily grasped by a wide audience. Mr. Flood bought the first-generation consoles mainly so he could play video games with his college friends, who he said were more inclined to play low-tech games like Super Mario Brothers than to invest the time needed to play today's more complex games.
Then there is the "wow" factor.
"Everyone's like, oh my gosh, where'd you get these?" Mr. Flood said. While he also owns a Microsoft Xbox and a Sony PlayStation 2, the retro consoles see far more playing time in his dorm room, he said.
For those who prize the convenience of today's technology while preferring the look of their parents' gadgets, several manufacturers have stepped in with hybrid alternatives.
Polyconcept USA offers a line of retro turntables distinguished by the abundance of wood and vintage touches like analog radio dials. But closer inspection reveals discreet CD slots, light-emitting-diode displays and built-in stereo speakers.
The subtleness of the modern amenities is part of a larger effort to evoke the look of bygone eras, said Brian Tompkins, Polyconcept's national accounts manager for electronics. For example, the product teams that oversaw the design of the RCA Newport Turntable fussed over the smallest details - "down to the control knobs and the brass faceplates that have representative etchings and designs," Mr. Tompkins said.
The Victrola-style turntable even has a functioning metal horn, as well as a decorative crank (the turntable is AC-powered).
And for something retro to put into those CD slots, Verbatim has come out with a series of inky-black recordable compact discs that look like miniature 45-r.p.m. vinyl records, complete with the discs' grooved look and brightly colored labels.
A more homespun effort is being undertaken by Andrew Fader, 15, and Karthik Seshan, 16, two high school students in Briarcliff Manor, N.Y. The pair recently founded Facade Computer, which builds modern computers into retro casings.
Consumers can order desktops or laptops while customizing specifics like the size of the hard drive and memory. After ordering the components wholesale - Mr. Fader estimates that such customized computers would cost $500 to $1,000 depending on the specifics - the students build the parts into the customer's retro casing of choice.
"The idea is to get the aesthetics of older technology and mix it with the functionality of newer technology," Mr. Fader said.
"Companies today like to make you think that cases that are sleek and gray and beige look good, but they don't, really. It's things that look more natural, that go with your house and are made of wood, that are more appealing."
The pair's first conversion, at their Web site (facadecomputer.com), is of a computer built into the mahogany casing of a 1937 Emerson 215 tube radio that they rescued from Mr. Fader's attic. Other possibilities for casings include old briefcases, typewriters and televisions. "The idiom 'one man's trash is another man's treasure' really applies here," Mr. Fader said. "There's a lot of stuff that people really don't realize the value of."
The rebellion against today's gadgets may only go so far, though. For those who prefer vintage technology, a major drawback is the hassle of dealing with technology that is, well, vintage.
For Mr. Flood, that means blowing the dust out of old Nintendo game cartridges. Today's games, which come on CD's, do not require such exertions.
Mr. Auh, meanwhile, is holding off on his romantic overtures until he finds a service provider that can support his antiquated cellphone. But once he does, the women of Philadelphia will need to act quickly, Mr. Auh warned.
"This cellphone only stores nine numbers, ladies," he said, "so it's first come, first served."
Thursday, September 09, 2004
The Real Underground Cinema
Jon Henley in Paris
Wednesday September 8, 2004
The Guardian
Police in Paris have discovered a fully equipped cinema-cum-
restaurant in a large and previously uncharted cavern underneath the
capital's chic 16th arrondissement.
Officers admit they are at a loss to know who built or used one of
Paris's most intriguing recent discoveries.
"We have no idea whatsoever," a police spokesman said.
"There were two swastikas painted on the ceiling, but also celtic
crosses and several stars of David, so we don't think it's
extremists. Some sect or secret society, maybe. There are any number
of possibilities."
Members of the force's sports squad, responsible - among other tasks -
for policing the 170 miles of tunnels, caves, galleries and
catacombs that underlie large parts of Paris, stumbled on the complex
while on a training exercise beneath the Palais de Chaillot, across
the Seine from the Eiffel Tower.
After entering the network through a drain next to the Trocadero, the
officers came across a tarpaulin marked: Building site, No access.
Behind that, a tunnel held a desk and a closed-circuit TV camera set
to automatically record images of anyone passing. The mechanism also
triggered a tape of dogs barking, "clearly designed to frighten
people off," the spokesman said.
Further along, the tunnel opened into a vast 400 sq metre cave some
18m underground, "like an underground amphitheatre, with terraces cut
into the rock and chairs".
There the police found a full-sized cinema screen, projection
equipment, and tapes of a wide variety of films, including 1950s film
noir classics and more recent thrillers. None of the films were
banned or even offensive, the spokesman said.
A smaller cave next door had been turned into an informal restaurant
and bar. "There were bottles of whisky and other spirits behind a
bar, tables and chairs, a pressure-cooker for making couscous," the
spokesman said.
"The whole thing ran off a professionally installed electricity
system and there were at least three phone lines down there."
Three days later, when the police returned accompanied by experts
from the French electricity board to see where the power was coming
from, the phone and electricity lines had been cut and a note was
lying in the middle of the floor: "Do not," it said, "try to find
us."
The miles of tunnels and catacombs underlying Paris are essentially
former quarries, dating from Roman times, from which much of the
stone was dug to build the city.
Today, visitors can take guided tours around a tightly restricted
section, Les Catacombes, where the remains of up to six million
Parisians were transferred from overcrowded cemeteries in the late
1700s.
But since 1955, for security reasons, it has been an offence
to "penetrate into or circulate within" the rest of the network.
There exist, however, several secretive bands of so-called
cataphiles, who gain access to the tunnels mainly after dark, through
drains and ventilation shafts, and hold what in the popular
imagination have become drunken orgies but are, by all accounts,
innocent underground picnics.
The recent discovery of three newly enlarged tunnels underneath the
capital's high-security La Santé prison was put down to the
activities of one such group, and another, iden tifying itself as the
Perforating Mexicans, last night told French radio the subterranean
cinema was its work.
Patrick Alk, a photographer who has published a book on the urban
underground exploration movement and claims to be close to the group,
told RTL radio the cavern's discovery was "a shame, but not the end
of the world". There were "a dozen more where that one came from," he
said.
"You guys have no idea what's down there."
I'm There!
HMK
Wednesday September 8, 2004
The Guardian
Police in Paris have discovered a fully equipped cinema-cum-
restaurant in a large and previously uncharted cavern underneath the
capital's chic 16th arrondissement.
Officers admit they are at a loss to know who built or used one of
Paris's most intriguing recent discoveries.
"We have no idea whatsoever," a police spokesman said.
"There were two swastikas painted on the ceiling, but also celtic
crosses and several stars of David, so we don't think it's
extremists. Some sect or secret society, maybe. There are any number
of possibilities."
Members of the force's sports squad, responsible - among other tasks -
for policing the 170 miles of tunnels, caves, galleries and
catacombs that underlie large parts of Paris, stumbled on the complex
while on a training exercise beneath the Palais de Chaillot, across
the Seine from the Eiffel Tower.
After entering the network through a drain next to the Trocadero, the
officers came across a tarpaulin marked: Building site, No access.
Behind that, a tunnel held a desk and a closed-circuit TV camera set
to automatically record images of anyone passing. The mechanism also
triggered a tape of dogs barking, "clearly designed to frighten
people off," the spokesman said.
Further along, the tunnel opened into a vast 400 sq metre cave some
18m underground, "like an underground amphitheatre, with terraces cut
into the rock and chairs".
There the police found a full-sized cinema screen, projection
equipment, and tapes of a wide variety of films, including 1950s film
noir classics and more recent thrillers. None of the films were
banned or even offensive, the spokesman said.
A smaller cave next door had been turned into an informal restaurant
and bar. "There were bottles of whisky and other spirits behind a
bar, tables and chairs, a pressure-cooker for making couscous," the
spokesman said.
"The whole thing ran off a professionally installed electricity
system and there were at least three phone lines down there."
Three days later, when the police returned accompanied by experts
from the French electricity board to see where the power was coming
from, the phone and electricity lines had been cut and a note was
lying in the middle of the floor: "Do not," it said, "try to find
us."
The miles of tunnels and catacombs underlying Paris are essentially
former quarries, dating from Roman times, from which much of the
stone was dug to build the city.
Today, visitors can take guided tours around a tightly restricted
section, Les Catacombes, where the remains of up to six million
Parisians were transferred from overcrowded cemeteries in the late
1700s.
But since 1955, for security reasons, it has been an offence
to "penetrate into or circulate within" the rest of the network.
There exist, however, several secretive bands of so-called
cataphiles, who gain access to the tunnels mainly after dark, through
drains and ventilation shafts, and hold what in the popular
imagination have become drunken orgies but are, by all accounts,
innocent underground picnics.
The recent discovery of three newly enlarged tunnels underneath the
capital's high-security La Santé prison was put down to the
activities of one such group, and another, iden tifying itself as the
Perforating Mexicans, last night told French radio the subterranean
cinema was its work.
Patrick Alk, a photographer who has published a book on the urban
underground exploration movement and claims to be close to the group,
told RTL radio the cavern's discovery was "a shame, but not the end
of the world". There were "a dozen more where that one came from," he
said.
"You guys have no idea what's down there."
I'm There!
HMK
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