How to Raise and Train a Dachshund reminds me of this book my father gave me called How to Raise a Dog in the City. With no copyright info in front of me, I’d have to say both books are circa 1960s and serve as high-brow precursors to the Dachshunds for Dummies, et al., series we purchased when we became the proud owners of a rambunctious little dachshund-schanuzer named Dollar.  We thought we were getting a dachshund, but in hindsight, our hybrid “designer” pup is truly better than a pure bred, as these photos can attest, from grooming to coddling to outright stubbornness dachshunds are quite a handful!

via Turning Pages.

Sculptura phone.

Mint green

Vintage 1970s contemporary phone

Cherry red.

 
Yellow Bell Telephone refurb by FishboneDecor

  
Above: The 35th Annual of Advertising and Editorial Art and Design, 1958

  
Above: Industrial Design 18/7, 1971

  
Above: Industrial Design 21/5, 1974

  
Above: Mr. Angelo by Marjory Schwalje, illustrations by Abner Graboff

  
Above: WWII navy flag cards, set of 27

Fisher Price’s breakfast play set, wax bottle candy that I’d turn into retainers (so strange), Giggles cookies!, the mini Muppet Babies that McDonald’s gave out at Christmastime, The Babysitter by R.L. Stine, She-Ra, Bubble-O Bill (ice cream treat with bubblegum nose), Tidal Wave gum (goo in the center), Chef Boyardee Roller Coasters, Pogoballs!, and my coveted Cabbage Patch sheets. Amazing.

All labels found at Firework Heritage Museum.

This past weekend Ryan and I went to Harvard Square to pick up some  Belton paint at Proletariat, and while I do enjoy perusing the selection of imported spray paint, I opted instead to head to Hootenanny and browse. We reconvened there sometime later, and just before heading out the entrance Catcher in the Rye caught our attention — the cover was printed on a t-shirt. We spent the next 20 minutes geeking out over the awesomeness of its awesomeness and all of the other classic book  t-shirts in stock. We’re pretty sure the salespeople thought we were trying to steal something, although it’s hard to tell in Hootenanny, which is notorious for its eagle-like ability to nab shoplifters.

Anyway, at about minute 19, the shop manager came up and chatted with us about the t’s, which are called Out of Print, and for each t-shirt sold, the company donates a book to Books for Africa. Cool! Kind of like Toms but with books. And boy, does Out of Print know how to pull on my nostalgia strings, aside from its super, super soft cotton t’s adorned with vintage book illustrations, each price tag  looks like a library book checkout card! The t’s are available in men’s and women’s sizes and are reasonably priced at $25.

The December issue of Martha Stewart Living features a great photo spread of antique, collectible Santa figurines, and I highly suggest picking up a copy (or at least stopping by Martha’s Web site to check out the selection). When my eyes fell upon the collectible Santa feature, a smile spread across my face — there’s something so charming about these little Santas. Most likely its the nostalgia factor, which sends me back to my grandparents living room on Christmas Eve, their Frasier Fir tree covered in ornate decorations that looked old then.

Most of the figurines featured in Living are made from celluloid and were available at five-and-dime stores during the 1930s-1950s. They also cost less than a dollar! Had I been a kid then I would have begged my mom to take me to the five-and-dime every Christmas so I could slowly amass a collection, which enevitably I would have gotten rid of in my teens only to regret it in my 30s.

Today, the five-and-dimes are gone and with them the celluloid Santa’s, but a quick search on antique and second-hand retailers sites like Ruby Lane and eBay returns a pretty nice selection of the collectibles, although this time around they’ll run you a bit more than a nickel or a dime.

As a youngster I was obsessed with building houses and drawing floor plans. My go-to building material? Legos! I would take over my parents living room and spend hours creating my own Legoland. When Lego came out with the Paradisa line in the 1990s — marketed specifically toward girls — I realized heaven on earth. The Paradisa line looked liked a Lego-bricked South Beach — pools, cabanas, big glass (plastic) floor to ceiling windows, spiral stairs, palm trees — pure bliss for a 10-year-old girl. Today while checking out reware by emiko-o‘s jewelry made entirely of Lego parts (see next post) I was reminded of my old friends. Seeing them again for the first time in years transported me back to my parent’s living room floor, sprawled out and mussing up my Espirit leggings and coordinating roll-over sweater while building my pink, mint green, and gray Lego oasis. I had to share.