So, I find myself with the coincidental honor of having quite a choice blogging day today, this day of Halloween. While the holiday has always been my favorite aesthetically, all black and orange and dead, I can’t say I’ve attended any memorable festivities during the past decade or so, so again my attraction to it is yet another vestige of my childhood that clings to the back of my brain and reminds me that life is worth living after all. Just not quite as much when you’re 26.

Something that has always, somehow, meant a lot to me was Tim Burton’s Nightmare Before Christmas. I guess that it just caught me at the right time in my life where it was truly resonant - a film about a relatively popular guy whose iconoclastic tendencies always left him feeling alone, a distracted romantic with a passion to create and explore things that no one around him had even though to breach before. I saw it three times while it was in the theater, and the Danny Elfman soundtrack was the first CD I ever bought. Of course, it’s not the best film ever made, but it played a vital role in the redefinition of cinematic animation and influenced a good deal of artists for many years. And arguably, it’s also a Christmas movie, so we have something to bridge that awkward Thanksgiving gap besides unsightly weight gain.

So, I collected and surrounded myself with Nightmare Before Christmas STUFF. Mostly, my collection was composed of a handful of hastily made (but nevertheless awesome) action figures that came on flimsy purple cards - all of which were quickly opened and discarded. This initial set included a bendy Jack Skellington, and a bendy Jack in a santa suit. Sally’s plastic arms and legs came off, Professor Finkelstein’s head popped open to reveal his brain, the mayor’s head spun to reveal his unhappy face, and so on. Two deluxe figures came in the form of Santa Claus, whose back opened up to reveal a bunch of green presents, and Oogie Boogie, who’s stomach opened up to allow some black bugs to spill out. As far as action features went for figures of the time, they weren’t astounding, but they were appropriate and fun.

These are all in tact and complete, still within my collection over a decade later. NECA re-released these original figures a few years back, and also created their own line of NBX figures, all with amazing details, accessories and articulation, and spanning a wider array of characters. Of course, I didn’t hesitate to collect every one of these that I could also.

The initial NBX merchandising blitz wasn’t too strong, as the movie was still a bit too eclectic in 1993. Critics either called it too creepy for a kids’ film, or not mature enough to be an adult film - two criticisms obviously rendered by philistines and paranoids. Sorry, lady, but your kid is FULL of skeleton. Just open him up and take a look. If you can’t accept that, don’t blame the media. And if ‘skeleton posing as santa blown out of sky’ is the worst you can say about the questionable content of a movie, I think we’re doing pretty well by today’s standards.

Back in 1993, though, NBX collectibles were few and far between, and they were really hot. Comic conventions would have large sections of their booths dedicated to lost and forgotten NBX stuff, and a simple Jack Skellington bedspread would cost well over $200. A large Oogie Boogie plush doll would cost over $100, at the peak of the collecting phase. At 13, most of this passed me by.

In the years that followed, Japan’s Jun Planning released a strong collection of themed merchandise, which the US was not generally aware of until the internet became widespread and information about the collectibles of foreign countries became more accessible. These included sets of Jack Skellington figures with a huge variety of interchangeable heads for various expressions, and larger Jack and Sally figures with tailored clothes.

Roughly around 2003, NBX began appearing on everything again, since the film was a decade old and had cemented its cult status, and Hot Topic needed something to fill its shelves with besides poorly-drawn fairies. A quick eBay search will net you Skellington cologne, a clutch of plastic figurines, cookie jars, mugs, handbags, watches, car shades and underwear. Normally, such a vast merchandising fit wouldn’t occur so long after a movie had been released in theaters, but the fact that these unusual branded items continue to sell is a testament to the aforementioned cult status. Can you think of any other animated movies which remain merchandisable for ten consistent years after its release?

Most curiously of all, though, is that the DVD of Nightmare Before Christmas has temporarily gone out of print, and it’s fetching prices of 50 bucks or more on the secondary market. If you’re looking for a copy, the 15th anniversary of the film is fast approaching, so I’d suggest holding onto that 50 bucks and spending it on the super-deluxe edition that’ll surely be published. For now, you can suffice with the VHS copy - which everyone in the universe seems to have anyhow. Sorry, that’s not worth anything monetary, but your delight will be incalculable.

So tonight, join me in my annual viewing of the film. It’s the next best thing to dressing up and having a social experience. You can never go wrong with a skeleton.

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We recently entertained some friends from out of state. They had not been to our home for about 9 years and were inquisitive about where we found our “treasures.” It made me stop and think about just where I did find them. And it brought back some fond (and not-so-fond) memories – I’m happy to share them with you!
Probably my “all time favorite” is our dining room chandelier. It is brass and has a lot of prisms and glass beads. Quite lovely. But it did not always look this way. When I first found it, it was in 3 bags, seated on the floor of a garage.

My sister and I had gone to a rummage sale. She always beat me to the costume jewelry, which was her ‘addiction.’ So I did not even bother rushing to the table where they were displayed. Who wants to be elbowed out of the way every time? Not me.

So I sought bargains elsewhere. I was looking at some porcelain figurines on a table and my foot bumped a bag and I heard a “clink.” I asked the seller what was in the bags. She replied “my sister and her husband are opening a bread & breakfast. They decided to replace the old lighting fixtures with new ones and those bags hold the parts of their cast-off.” I was curious and picked up one bag.

To my amazement and great pleasure, I found a very large, cut glass prism! I looked further and found a lot more. The next bag had the brass arms and the third held the strings of beading. I tried my best not to be too excited and casually asked “how much do you want for this?” Her reply got my heart racing “$5.00” she said.

I am so used to bargain-hunting that before I even thought about it I blurted out “would you take $4.00?” “Oh, sure” she said, “my sister will be glad to get rid of it.” I paid promptly.

When we got to the car, my sister showed me her little pins, then asked if I had any luck. I tried to stay calm and said I thought I had been lucky.

We got to my house and hubby and I pulled it out of the bags. We were in awe. I knew it was in pieces but he can ‘fix anything’, just ask anyone! So, he took it to his workshop and in two days we had it up, replacing our other chandelier. (On an even further positive note, we sold that newer one for $35 at our sale. Probably to the lady who wanted to open the B&B!)
Another of my ‘bests’ is this charming framed picture. It features a little girl who resembles “little red riding hood” and the frame is beautiful. My hubby actually found this one. We went to a ‘block rummage sale’ with a lot of houses that participated. I went to one side of the street, he to the other. Along the way, he yelled to me “do you like this picture?”

I could not see it well, but what I could make out, I definitely liked and responded to the affirmative. He brought it to the car and I took a better look. And instantly loved it! I asked “how much” and he smiled broadly and replied “$5.00.” Yikes!

I rarely find nice jewelry at yard sales and especially so if my sis was along. But we went to a sale along Lake Michigan, ritzy place, and the lady had a lot of Oriental items. Not being a big fan of this décor’, I thought I’d be leaving early. But on her table, underneath a shawl, was a ring. It was gold (I thought it was “the real thing”) and had a green stone. She had $25 on the tag, but instantly said she’d take $20 for it – this was her third day and no one had even inquired about it. I paid her what she wanted.

It just FELT right. When I got to the car, I pulled out the magnifier and verified that it was 14K. The stone turned out to be jade. I wore it for a year or two and then sold it at our antique booth for $125. That was about 7 years ago and someone is probably writing a blog about the bargain they found at our booth. The circle of (antiques) life. Ahh.

When you are ‘into’ antiques, you don’t often go to the sales that advertise ‘kids toys, toddlers clothing’, and the like. But I was with a friend who had grandkids and she wanted to stop. “OK”, I said, “but make it snappy.” I looked at the books and games, nothing old enough to add to the collection or sell. But then something caught my eye and by the stuffed animals and Barbie tricyle, I saw a face peering out – it was a metal horse. I looked closer and discovered it was a very old child’s toy.

Made in England, called a Mobo. It had some wear to the paint, but overall, it was quite nice. He only wanted $15 for it, telling me it was ‘old and had been ridden by numerous kids in the family.’ I did not quibble – paid him and popped it in my trunk. Hubby looked at it and was uncertain – nothing he’d seen before. We put it in the garage.

About a month later he was at a Cracker Barrel Restaurant. There, on a shelf above the check-out counter, was another one! He was excited and asked to chat with the manager. When she arrived, he inquired about the horse – what did she know about it, how old was it, was it for sale, and if so, how much?

She was taken aback but responded that these antique items are not for sale and she really knew nothing about it. It was a fairly new restaurant and she explained that when they were ready to build, a ‘team’ of pickers would come to the area and get nostalgic items – they’d also select other antiques from a warehouse and bring them in.

He was a little disappointed, but at least felt it had enough value to be so displayed. We took it to a summer flea market and put a ‘ridiculous’ price of $100 on it. It sold in 12 minutes. We have since seen two others in antique malls. We’ve learned they were made in Kent, England, are circa 1947, and actually called “Mobo Bronco” riding horses. One was in very poor condition and that price tag was $225. The other was in a condition that was similar to ours and had a tag of $350!

Another blogger somewhere, is bragging about this treasure they found from the ‘rubes’ in aisle 11. But we made our profit and had fun – so there!

Another time we went to an estate sale. It was the last day, sometimes a good time to attend. Usually things are half-price or at least there is room to wiggle. We saw these beautiful candle sticks in the basement. The gent who was in charge in that room said they had been in a trunk and not noticed until earlier that day when the trunk had sold.

We thought they were beautiful, but when he said he wanted $50 for them, we played our ‘good cop and bad cop’, being hesitant to make a commitment. Then he thought for a moment and said ‘oh, prices are 50% off today so they could be yours for $25.” Scooped those up and put them in our dining room. A wonderful find!

We continue to shop for additions for our home and some to sell. While it may sound easy, just yesterday we went to 11 garages sales, put 30 miles on the van, and came home with just $4.00 worth of ‘goodies.’ And that’s a pretty strong word for them. “Mediocres” would be a better word. But who knows what the next garage, front yard or estate sale might hold?

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Theda Bara’s enigmatic figure is well known to many classic film buffs — and thousands more who’ve become fans upon learning of the original vamp. Her works, great and small, exist only in the memories of the few who were lucky enough to see them, with most of us learning of her from old publications, copies of review clippings, mentions in movie lore, and/or faded photographs. Her image continues to be reprinted even today for fans, most of whom likely never fell in love with her on the screen — this because no known prints or copies of her films exist for us to watch.

Many of the old films, like Theda’s, were purposely destroyed — either for recycling of the precious celluloid, or thrown out as too old-fashioned as the talkies came in. Even more recently, as I’ve said before, films were tossed due to storage issues. But even those films not destroyed on purpose are becoming lost to us.

Each year more old films — from those great classic films we’ve heard of to little known documentaries and film shorts we’ve never heard of — are deteriorating faster than archives can preserve them. No one knows the exact number of films lost, or the rate at which they continue to be lost, but it is estimated that only about 20% of the silent features have survived.

What little remains of these films, be it vintage movie picture magazines, original photos, ephemera and (dare to dream!) film props, all becomes hideously expensive. What’s a poor collector who’s in love with say, Theda, yet who cannot compete with richy-rich collectors to do? And even if the National Film Preservation Foundation (NFPF) manages to save films, what of the other stories of the making of these films? What of the film stars and directors themselves?

Whether you are able to afford (or lucky enough to stumble into) some of the gems of classic film collecting — or not — there’s a publication which preserves the legends and lore of classic film.

Classic Images began in June, 1962 as The 8mm Collector. But as the technology and the collecting habits of classic film buffs grew, founding editor Samuel Rubin changed the name to Classic Images to reflect these realities and adapt to those changes. What the publication is now is a monthly magazine, published on newsprint, devoted to all things classic film.

Now when I, and new editor Bob King, say ‘classic film’ we don’t just mean silent films, or the highbrow movies that film connoisseurs crave. Oh, no. Along with H.G. Wells and Charlie Chaplin you’ll find articles on Boris Karloff and Rin Tin Tin too. Nearly any flick made from the start of film through 1960 or so is fair game.

Yes, there are biographical articles. Yes, there is movie history. Yes, there are photos. What would be the point of the publication without them? But these are no ordinary articles; these are delicious meals for those who hunger for more film knowledge.

Writers for Classic Images have included Leonard Maltin, Max Pierce, Herb Fagen, and, my favorite, Eve Golden.

There’s also coverage of events that the average person may not know about, which if aren’t already the lifeblood of film fans they will be upon discovery of them. Classic Images not only alerts you to such events as Cinecon, Capitolfest, and the Hollywood Poster Auction, but gives them review and editorial coverage as well. Ditto news and notes on the latest DVD releases of classic films as well as biographies and other books of interest to film fans. Sadly, obituaries are a necessary part of the publication.

Nearly everything you could demand of a classic film publication is present in Classic Images. For me, the only thing missing are nice glossy pages. I’m a sucker for sexy magazines like that. But it’s a small petty thing to ask for when each issue is so voluptuous as it is. (Still, I remain small, petty — and hopeful that one day it will be a sexy glossy magazine.)

As you can imagine, past issues of the publication are themeselves becoming collectible. The website does sell past copies as well as photocopies of past articles, and eBay has a few from time to time; but most who get copies keep theirs. And why not? It’s lovingly created and feeds the souls of those of us who only wish we could have seen these films, made our own scrapbooks of these stars, back in their heyday. And it gives collectors great ideas for more to covet… Ads and classifieds included.

The quality of the authors and the passion of the editor makes this publication worthy of researchers as well as collectors. I presume this is why Classic Images has an online subscription archive service. (However, I was disappointed with it as it only goes back two years; a better bet is to buy back issues or copies of articles, as necessary.)

For those of us who feel born-too-late, or who just can’t help but fall in love with a dame, a bloke, or a story from the early days of film, we can thoroughly enjoy a subscription to Classic Images. It would make an excellent gift for those on your holiday gift list who are movie buffs and/or fans of the Golden Age — of any vintage — of Hollywood. And don’t forget the collectors of pop culture; they’ll dig it too. (Amazon also offers subscriptions to Classic Images, providing an easy way to put it on your wishlist.)

Bonus: If you’re in the US and you’ve never subscribed before, the publishers will give you a free copy!

But honestly, you don’t need a complimentary review copy. Just take my word for it: Classic Images is a must have.

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Last week, I was at Barnes and Noble with Destiny, who still had some birthday gift-cards to spend (her purchases: a vampire book and a Green Day CD; they grow up so fast), so I dug through the discount racks near the front of the store. Amongst the Feng Shui picturebooks and various collected works of Mark Twain (”Now presented in a different order!”), I found one of the greatest books ever put to paper: The Worst Album Covers Ever! Put away your lists of best album covers, as this one is far more entertaining — and more likely to have something you’ve never seen before. The good musicians get good covers; the rest, well, unlike books, judging a record by the cover isn’t always a failed assumption.

As far as media goes, LP album covers provided the largest canvas for a huge variety of artists — almost 12-1/2″ x 12-1/2″ of double-sided blank space, ready to be filled with the oddest, most interesting, and jarring images you could imagine. The artform wasn’t something everyone instantaneously figured out; there was a lot of experimentation through the years (the dust-sleeve inside was barely used for anything before the 1980s), giving plenty of opportunities of both greatness and horribleness.

While it didn’t suprise me completely, Iso actually own several of the examples found in The Worst Album Covers Ever!. The book contains over 80 covers, organized thematically, and most are trainwrecks where the art world was stalled on the music world’s tracks. What they got out of it is an intersection strewn with debris surrounded by police tape; slowing down to take a look is encouraged. Personally I think a few of the book’s “worst”, like the one to the right, would be considered a good cover despite its weirdness. Comedy albums like “Music for Non-Thinkers” should always be exempt, unless they convey something completely different from the contents. The Guckenheimer Sour Kraut Band or Ogden Edsl should have a weird cover. Unintentionally funny albums: those deserve to be called the Worst.

As you probably surmised on your own, there’s more than 80 horrible album covers in the world — here’s samples of some that I’ve got, but aren’t in the Worst Album Cover Book:

Oh, dear — we know the Partridge Family and the Jacksons have matching costumes, but, honey, they had the help of a fashion designer, and didn’t have to buy discount tablecloth fabric.

When hiring a cover designer, make sure that they understand the market: I don’t think afficianados of “Modern Square Dances” would identify with the inbred mountain hick motif. Let alone a shoddy one: “OK, people, we’ve got 8 minutes to get the photo and the entire high school theatre prop room at our disposal — let’s get moving!

OK, one last one, to show it’s not just amateurs at fault:

DEAR GOD — KILL IT BEFORE IT RELEASES ITS SPORES! No, really, I think Carol Channing rocks (how many times have I uttered that phrase?), but I figure her fans know who she is without exaggerating her most exaggerated features. If Carol Channing’s Gargantuan Maw is the main selling point of this album, it’s no wonder this ended up in the cut-out bin.

See how much fun this is? The bonus is: these records are hardly in demand. In fact, they’re usually all that’s left in the picked-over album bins at flea markets and thrift shops. A few of the examples in The Worst Album Covers Ever! do come from moderately famous artists, and were done in rather small runs and can be quite rare. Still, I doubt you’ll have to pay more than a couple dollars for even the most desirable ugly record album cover. Their value is in the kitschy appreciation of an artist who took their task too seriously (or not serious enough). Coming up with a collection of horrible record album covers might be easier than most record collecting, so step up and grab those ugly, poorly designed sleeves and make them your own. If you’d like more examples, Nick DiFonzo, author of Worst Album Covers, has more books and a website.
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“The guy with the weird hobby never gets the corner office.”

Such is the lesson that we are meant to take away from the third episode from the second season of 30 Rock, conveniently called ‘The Collection’. For those of us unfamiliar with 30 Rock, it’s the NBC comedic juggernaut helmed by Tina Fey and focused upon the backstage events of a sketch comedy show. And it’s awesome - not only because Tina Fey is the perfect woman, but because it’s pretty damned hilarious. You can currently watch episodes, in full, at NBC’s website.

So, when last week’s episode revolved around how damaging a secret ‘collection’ could be to one’s professional reputation, I sat up and took notice. CEO Jack Donaghy has no qualms about discussing his arrests or alcoholic family, but when the topic comes to his massive cookie jar collection, which he’d collected under a pseudonym, his true inner darkness is revealed… since collecting cookie jars was for “creepy little guys in bow ties”. Collectors are usually portrayed as hollow stereotypes throughout all media - 40 Year Old Virgins, selfishly deranged space aliens, loveless and obsessed and hygienically challenged, so it’s always good to see a high-powered, intelligent, successful collector on TV - even if that collection is portrayed as a weakness.

Of course, this was all done in jest and hyperbole, but I can’t say that the implications about the stigma of being a collector didn’t have a real ring of truth to it. Collectors understand collectors… and everyone else? Well, there’s no hope for them anyhow. They can keep their organic bicycles and solar-powered underwear. I have my one-sixth scale Batman. And about a thousand other Batmen in other shapes and sizes. If you have a vaguely Batman-shaped hole anywhere, I can probably fill it.

Jack Donaghy must get rid of his cookie jar collection, unless he wants it to interfere with his upward mobility inside his corporation, but when his accumulation of cookie jars (which are emotionally linked to a deep-seated set of mother issues - another odd collector stereotype) is boxed up and on their way to incineration, he can’t bear to part with them. As collectors, we sometimes have to ask ourselves, “will buying or keeping these items make other parts of my life less enjoyable?” - and I can’t say that the tradeoff is always even, or the justifications and compromises equitable. Any collector watching the episode would surely relate to the heartbreak of losing a portion of your collection.

In the end, Jack refuses to sell his multi-million dollar collection to just anyone, and instead gives it to a person who could genuinely care for and appreciate it. In a place of complete financial stability, wouldn’t any one of us prefer to see our cast-off things go to someone who could genuinely love them, instead of just trying to turn a few extra bucks? It is with a certain begrudging angst that I’ve brought in my action figures and comics to share with my art students, hoping to use them as lessons in drawing and narrative fiction, and knowing that they might derive some precious morsel of knowledge from between the plastic joints and printed pages is enough for me to turn off that certain part of my brain that wants to tell them to wash their hands and not overextend that ball-joint. And yeah, please stop making Black Panther molest Ant Man. Save that for health class. And a long talk with your parents.

So, 30 Rock intelligently portrays that fine line between the preciousness of an object versus an unhealthy attachment to it. I can only suspect that Tina Fey has a secret collection of something-or-others stashed secretly away somewhere. If she truly IS the perfect woman, as I objectively surmise, that something-or-other has everything to do with a certain bat-like superhero.

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