It would be boring for you and disingenuous for me to pretend that I even care about the technical specs of the Polaroid Lab. But it’s just not going to happen with this one. I know, we have a reputation for doing deep dives on the things we write about. But I was surprised to find that it’s actually more of a camera than a scanner, as it uses a 3-element 35mm lens to actually photograph your phone’s screen and expose what it captures onto the film. Initially I had the concept of a scanner in my mind, even though Polaroid never refers to it as such. The Polaroid Lab is a device designed to take a photo from your cell phone and recreate the image on Poalroid’s i-Type instant film. Based on that perspective, an object that takes a phone photo and turns it into an instant film image could only be described as an abomination against nature (or at least against the “purity of film”).īut as I hovered on the product page deciding whether or not to buy the Lab, I remembered what Don Draper said about nostalgia when he sold Kodak on the Carousel - those beautiful words about going around and around and back home again - and I slammed that buy button. While I’ve become much less photographically dogmatic in recent years, I will always believe that light exposed on chemical celluloid is more “real” than a digital sensor which approximates the color it’s exposed to. No matter what any of us film photographers might say in public, part of the reason that we make photos on film is because of its purity. If the shame isn’t self-evident, let me explain it in a little better detail. I felt guilty of something deviant and only the power of my two legs could outrun the shame of the box in my arms. That’s why I went scurrying from the package shop under the cover of darkness, hoping to get home before anyone saw what I was enabling. If you’re rolling your eyes at the idea of a cell phone Polaroid printer, I completely get it. Instead, it’s the Polaroid Lab - the company’s printer that creates Polaroids directly from a cell phone app. Inside is not a new i-Type camera, or packs of film for the cameras I already own. And not one that I ever expected to be opening. I’m there to pick up a shipment from Polaroid. I’m wondering just how much of a sucker it makes me as I arrive at one of the many package shops in my Berlin neighborhood. It would take an army of heavily armed psychiatrists to diagnose the source of my malady, but for our purposes, just understand that I’m a sucker for nostalgia’s honey. Or rather, I am often sacrificed upon it. That’s all a long and winding way to say that nostalgia is powerful and I bow before its alter. You don’t have to say it – I know I’m a sucker. The memories of summer nights in Richmond somehow played into my selection of face cream. But despite only having the same name as my former home, that alone was enough for me to stop, look at, and buy it. While recently browsing different types of face cream, my final selection was based solely on one particular cream being called “Virginia.” This particular product had nothing to do with the Old Dominion, nor the memories of it which I constantly carry with me while living, as I do now, in Europe. I have to admit to being among the latter. Some of us are immune to it, while others are disproportionately ruled by it. Unlike afflictions like the flu, which carry a uniform set of symptoms, nostalgia affects each person uniquely, attacking us through the experience of our lives. A more official (and my favorite) definition of nostalgia is, “the state of being homesick.” If a fictional guy named Teddy who was referenced in a TV show during a meticulously crafted sales pitch is to be believed, nostalgia comes from Greek and translates to the pain from an old wound. The faintest whiff of it sends us down an incredible slide laced with the lush aromas of yesteryear, always sharp and contrasty thanks to the 20/20 f/1.2 hindsight lens through which it’s viewed.
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