I love collecting things. There’s something so satisfying to the obsessive-compulsive part of my brain about the act of searching, waiting, finding, and adding something to my collection. Usually, that’s records. Obviously. But I’m always on the lookout for unique knick-knacks that remind me of the places I’ve been. Sure, I have pictures, but the ease of opening up my phone and snapping a quick picture that will get added to a library with nearly 10,000 of varying life importance feels so…impersonal. I don’t mean to sound like a grouch, but sometimes I wish electricity didn’t exist. Anyways.
Some people collect shirts, shot glasses, or souvenir cups. I collect slip mats. A circular piece of felt with some type of image or logo on it. When you go to Cabo, you get a shot glass with a palm tree on it. When I go to Amoeba Records, or Mint Gallery Records, or Twist and Shout in Denver, I get a slip mat with their logo on it.
I don’t know what the future holds for the shape of my body and the size of my waistline. I could contract a wasting disease and go down two shirt sizes. Or Taco Bell could bring back the double-decker and I could go up two shirt sizes. My point is, a shirt to commemorate the day I went to some kick-ass record store and got an amazing record is not a good idea.
But what about something that will always be the right size? I don’t think they plan on changing the diameter of the holes they put in the middle of records. There’s a butthole joke in there somewhere, but I am not going to sink to that level.
Slip-mats are a little piece of every record store’s heart. No matter how long ago you visited, a good slipmat design will take you right back to that dingy little shop. It will remind you of what made that shop special.
This amazing slip-mat speaks to the West Coast surf–punk attitude of Vinyl Junkies Record Shack.
Then there is the classic 70’s charm of Jackpot Records. Or the flex of longevity from this 50th anniversary Music Millennium mat.
If you haven’t gathered by now, I like record stores just as much as I like records. Maybe even a little more. There are few things more personal and intimate than sharing your taste in art with someone. A record store existence means that someone’s entire livelihood is expressly linked to the general public’s opinion on their taste in music. I think that deserves some recognition.