I love a classic photo-booth. I made Richard promise that if we ever have our own business we need to purchase one of these guys. I don’t know what use a photo-booth will be in a brew-pub slash vintage clothing store slash design house (haha) but I’ll make it work.
Classic photo-booths take, hands down, the most beautiful and flattering photographs. I don’t understand how something capable of producing such perfect and clear and stunning photographs has, over time, transformed into something that produces little more than pixelated crap. The passport photos from one of these would be a hundred times better than the girl in the chemist with the camera who isn’t sure whether or not you have to show your ears (true story—she literally said ‘I don’t know what to do!’). The sign on the outside of this booth professes to even capture the most wriggly of children, which was of course a novelty at the time of its production.
This photo-booth is situated in the Musee Mecanique at Fisherman’s Wharf and it is—in my opinion anyway—the only good reason to go to Fisherman’s Wharf. Skip the bread bowls and tourist souvenirs and head straight for a strip of these beauties. It will cost you $3 which you’ll need in single dollar bills. And if you’re anything like me you will want at least two.
We bought some cheapo party hats and horns and had a mini celebration in the photo-booth for Emily’s birthday (we sent the photos stuck to the present and when she pulled them off she said ‘look, it’s Clio and Richard! It’s from Clio and Richard!’ which of course made me melt). My lovely friend Joanna is coming to stay with us for Easter and I can’t wait to squeeze into the photo-booth with her for some silly posing.
I intend on coming home with a stack of these black and white memories.
That last one of the right cracks me up…I forgot that there was another photo to come and was about to get up and walk out, aka resting bitch face in all its glory!!!