I don't love Typo. It's not because it's particularly bad, it's not. It's a cute little store, full of cute little things at fairly cute little prices. It's because it represents the successful commodification of a market which I love, and which I wish could remain in the amateur space.
Three or four years ago, I picked up a 1970s pamphlet from the Australian communist party, talking about how Chinese communism was bad.It has a stamp in the front, saying it was distributed by Socialist publications, in Redfern. It has a six digit phone number. The cover is a black black rhombus and a small red circle on a green background. I love it, because it's a textual artefact from a unique moment in time. There was probably a print run of a few thousand at most. I doubt more than a couple of dozen still exist.
And it's the simulacra of this which Typo sells, packaged and sold as commodities. Notebooks with covers which seem to call out to realms of fabricated experience. It's convenient, and inexpensive, and for most people there's no difference. And I respect that, I do. It's just a little bit of what I am is being faked up and sold. read more