Look, we love analog. We love the weight of a mechanical watch, the grit of a scratched vinyl, the smell of old film canisters that may or may not be mildly toxic. But here’s the spicy take nobody wants to…
Hi, my name is Analog Rebel, and I have a problem. It started with a film camera. Then a turntable. Then a typewriter. Now I own multiple mechanical watches, a stash of expired 35mm film, and I get unreasonably excited…
One minute, you’re searching for a “reliable 35mm camera,” and the next you’ve got six saved searches, a bidding war on a half-broken Nikon F3, and a PayPal charge for a Soviet rangefinder shipped from Bulgaria. Why? Because it had character, okay? And…