How the hell has it come to pass that the cool young people are wearing gingham dresses and crocheting and trimming their beards with scrimshaw knives, while remaining oblivious to the joys of the wonderful olde-schoole world of philately?
“Philately? You mean stamp collecting?” Pfft! Stamp collecting is for children and idiots. Let the Punk Philatelist lead you to where the grown-ups live. Where murderers and millionaires collect and connive. Where countries go to war over the design of a postage stamp. Where ambition, ego and chance discoveries of an old envelope between the pages of a second-hand book can bring instant fortune to imbeciles.
It’s a world where artists passionate about their work create tiny works of art, only to see them bought and immediately dispatched by unthinking humans like you. Well, it’s time to start thinking, buster, because the forces of boring are waging a war on these masterpieces, and every time you meekly slap another dreary postal barcode on your mail instead of using your consumer power to demand a stamp, you don’t even realise you’re the bad guy.
So, what IFL Science has done for quantum physics, the Punk Philatelist intends to do for 1930s zeppelin mail. (Just look at the Art Deco majesty of that shit. Come to Mama.) And it’s worth paying attention, because your grandfather will die soon, and you’ll want to leg it with his stamp album.
The Punk Philatelist is based in Australia. She began as one collector but now embodies two, both of whom are spring chickens as philatelists go, and not all of whom are female. They choose to mask their identities for now, lest they upset colleagues in the industries in which they may or may not be employed.
This blog may use occasional strong language. You may have noticed already.