September 30, 2009

Five At A Time

Remember stacking these up your wrist four or five deep? As if the number of Swatches on your arm directly translated into street cred? I remember being on the playground and seeing a sixth grader (the way older kids) at the top of the jungle gym. He had a Tony Hawk-esqe, asymmetrical haircut and rainbow-mirrored plastic glasses with mismatched colored arms... oh yeah, and like five Swatches on his wrist. He was my hero.

Even though I was only seven, I remember begging for a year so I could get one for Christmas. It was striped. And it was tubular. I never quite got to the level of multiples, but my sister did have the giant one on her wall until high school. I still have an X-Watch I found at an Earth Crisis show, and after this post, might have to fish around eBay to score another one... or five.

Check out more here and here.

To celebrate the 2009 CreArt Collection, Swatch and its partner Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS are giving away a Billy the Artist Morning Glow watch! Become a fan of Swatch US ( and Broadway Cares (

And the new chrono...

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Mags, Checker Board & Highlights

Sorry for the 80s assault this morning, but I was on a roll and figured these posts held hands rather nicely (check the wrist-wear in a few of the shots). I wasn't even really old enough to partake in this culture in the 80s. By the time I got my first real BMX (read: non-Huffy from K-Mart), RAD was already out of print. I'm not going to bore you with one of my rants and drop a bunch of nostalgic rhetoric on you about being young, carefree kids and getting rad. I'm just going to point you over to this awesome Flickr gallery where you can find these images, and many more like them, of BMX culture in its heyday. Rip it!

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September 29, 2009

Keep On Truckin'

Yeah yeah yeah, I've already talked about these guys, and by now, I'm sure everyone has seen it before. But you know what? I don't care, cause it's that good. I was looking through some books the other day and came across my set of Truck Furniture catalogs. Seriously, these things make me want to find some giant scissors, cut myself into a strand of paper dolls and file myself between the pages. Why can't I have a life where all I necessitate is a raw wood shelving system with nothing but three vintage McIntosh tube amps and a plaid couch in my living room? Like my buddy Carby said, "yeah, the room looks great because they picked the absolute best pieces to put out, but they have a closet somewhere bursting with the rest of their crap." So be it. I need a bigger closet.

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