Kelly and I have just been downtown in the ’52 Bug. It’s pouring with rain, and ordinarily we don’t take any of my Volkswagens out in wet weather.
The bug ran out of gas, and we had to crawl to a gas station to fill it up. With a 6-volt ignition, it doesn’t pay to have the lights and wipers on as well as the fog lights. The ’52 bug doesn’t have a fuel gauge, which can be difficult at times.
I had to go to my pharmacy and pick up some Prednisone and antibiotics. I’ve not been breathing well. In fact, I have some kind of shadow on my lung, the same as I did when I was eight years old.
When I was eight, my mother told me the doctors were going to try to keep me alive until I was ten years old and then take a lung out. No one seems to know what this meant. My mother was very much in awe of doctors, so it’s possible she misinterpreted everything.
When I was ten, they put me into hospital and the shadow had gone. I never got sick again for years.
Nowadays, we often talk about “Healthy Homes.” I was brought up in a house that had rotten floorboards and a room (a second living room) that was dedicated to coal for the coal range. We lived right by the bush in Dunedin, and it was always damp.
But I’ve always been good at (if I do say so myself) overcoming obstacles in my way. I’ve always gone against the tide.
I often ask Kelly what I should write about in my next blog. This time she said “Coldplay.”
I had to change my clothing.
My chemist is a 45-year-old Mormon, and he took his daughter to see Coldplay over the weekend. This was the very first concert he had ever been to in his whole life, and he loved it.
That’s good enough for me.
Coldplay brings happiness to millions of people, and I can’t criticize that.
I’ve never seen a Mormon dance.
I often write about freedom and the importance of having one’s own views. Bob Dylan once said that no one was free and that even the birds were chained to the sky.
Mao Tse-tung, when he sent Chinese troops to help North Korea in the Korean War, said, “Without the lips the teeth are cold.”
There is nothing worse in this life than to be alone. Solitude has no friends. That is my view.
Yet it is easy enough to feel that one is on one’s own. My mother went to work when I was a kid. There I was all day, lonesome and unable to breathe properly. That is being alone.
My friend “Mad Dog” was alone. He died of a morphine overdose on Christmas Day many years ago. I have not yet stopped crying for him, for his solitude and what he could have been.
In my terror, I surround myself with people. We help each other.
Yesterday a very good friend got in touch with me after several years.
In the realm of branding, stepping off the beaten path often yields the most memorable results. For iconic brands like Tiffany’s, Ralph Lauren, Palace, and Ray-Ban, street poster campaigns offer a rebellious yet innovative way to communicate with their audience. These campaigns transform mundane cityscapes into vibrant canvases where brands can paint their stories. Unlike traditional advertising methods, street posters captivate the everyday observer with their bold, dynamic visuals and straightforward messaging. They serve as a bold statement, challenging the status quo and injecting a dose of authenticity into urban environments.
Street poster campaigns are not just about visibility; they are about creating an indelible brand presence. By occupying public spaces, these brands make a deliberate choice to connect with people in their daily routines. This approach fosters a genuine connection that is often lost in the glossy pages of magazines or the pristine windows of high-end stores. Here, on the streets, brands can be playful and enthusiastic, engaging with audiences in an approachable manner. It’s an invitation to experience the brand in an organic setting, where the hustle and bustle of everyday life become the backdrop for brand storytelling.
Connecting in the Everyday Hustle
In the fast-paced rhythm of city life, where individuals are constantly on the move, street posters catch the eye and captivate the imagination. They are strategically placed in locations where people naturally congregate—busy intersections, bustling transit stops, and vibrant suburbs. This ensures that the brand is seen and felt in the pulse of daily existence. Rather than interrupting the flow of life, these posters harmonise with it, becoming part of the urban tapestry that people encounter every day.
Brands that choose street poster campaigns understand the value of being present where life happens. They embrace the chaos and energy of the streets, aligning their messaging with the rhythm of the city. This approach not only widens their reach but also enhances their relatability. By engaging with people in their natural environment, these brands demonstrate their understanding of the audience’s daily challenges and joys. This authenticity resonates deeply, forging connections that are more meaningful than those established through traditional advertising avenues.
Crafting Authentic Brand Narratives
Street poster campaigns give brands the freedom to craft narratives that are as authentic as they are compelling. In a world where consumers crave realness, these campaigns stand out by telling stories that reflect the brand’s core values and mission. With bold visuals and straightforward messages, street posters communicate the essence of the brand in a way that is both captivating and relatable. They allow brands to showcase their personality—be it rebellious, innovative, or bold—with enthusiasm and flair.
This method of communication is not just about promoting products; it’s about sharing a vision and inviting others to be part of it. By placing their narratives on the streets, brands make it clear that style, luxury, and quality are not confined to exclusive spaces. Instead, they are accessible to all who walk the city’s pathways. This approach democratizes the luxury experience, making it inclusive and attainable for a diverse audience. It’s a celebration of the brand’s story, told in a manner that encourages everyone to participate.
Breaking Down Barriers with Bold Messaging
Street poster campaigns are a powerful tool for breaking down barriers between brands and their audiences. They challenge the traditional notions of luxury and exclusivity by bringing high-end brands directly to the people. Through bold and dynamic messaging, these campaigns shatter preconceived notions and invite everyone to engage with the brand. This approach is both straightforward and revolutionary, as it dismantles the walls that often separate luxury brands from the everyday consumer.
By choosing to communicate through street posters, brands make a statement about their values and priorities. They show a willingness to step outside the confines of conventional marketing and embrace a more inclusive approach. This not only broadens their appeal but also strengthens their connection with the audience. It’s a declaration that true style and sophistication are not limited by boundaries but are accessible to anyone who wishes to engage with them.
From Luxury to Accessible: A New Perspective
Luxury brands have often been perceived as exclusive entities, accessible only to a select few. However, street poster campaigns offer a fresh perspective by showcasing these brands in a more inclusive light. By occupying public spaces, they shift the narrative from exclusivity to accessibility, inviting a wider audience to experience their offerings. This approach is innovative and dynamic, aligning with contemporary values that prioritise inclusivity and diversity.
These campaigns redefine what it means to be a luxury brand in today’s world. By choosing to engage with audiences on the streets, brands signal their commitment to being part of the community. They demonstrate that luxury is not just about owning expensive items but about experiencing quality and craftsmanship in everyday life. This shift in perspective resonates with modern consumers who value authenticity and accessibility over exclusivity.
The Dynamic Future of Street Poster Campaigns
As we look to the future, street poster campaigns will continue to evolve, driven by the rebellious spirit of brands seeking to innovate and connect authentically with their audience. These campaigns will harness the power of dynamic visuals and bold messaging to create impactful brand experiences. They will remain a testament to the enduring appeal of meeting people where they are, in the heart of the urban landscape.
In an ever-changing digital world, the tactile and tangible nature of street posters offers a refreshing contrast. They remind us of the power of simplicity and directness in communication. As brands continue to explore new ways to engage with their audience, street poster campaigns will undoubtedly remain a vital part of their strategy, proving that the streets are where true connections are made and where brands can authentically thrive.
I passed my driver’s license in April 1968, the day after the Wahine disaster.
There were cracks in the road up on Murray Aynsley Hill in Christchurch and that’s where the traffic cop started screaming and yanked on the hand brake. He drove the rest of the way back to town and gave me a pass because he “never wanted to see me again.”
My first car was a Vauxhall J and it never went at all. The second was a 1939 Ford V8 Sedan which was a beautiful car. I sold it, then I bought it back. I put it off Dyers Pass Road because I was spooning and kissing my girlfriend at the same time as driving.
I remember running down the bank to the car (I had jumped out) and past my girlfriend to get to the vehicle. That’s young love for you! She was some kind of lover lady let me tell you.
But, it is best not to spoon and drive. No doubt the government will one day issue a fine (or worse) for spooning and driving. They are, after all, malicious sorts.
Two years after this I bought my first Volkswagen, a 1960 Beetle in a beautiful turquoise colour. It had arrived in a CKD (Complete Knocked Down) state and was assembled somewhere up near Auckland.
It had a large back window (as opposed to the Oval and the Split back window models of the 1950’s), and it had only semaphores for indicating turns on the road. It had no bubble indicators on the front guards. This was the European model and every single day I search for another one. It was 6-volt and so the headlights were dull and starting it was sometimes a dubious proposition. But to hear it sputtering up was pure heaven.
The only other thing I have to report from that era is that I almost bought a mid-50’s VW panel van from Five Star Motors on St Asaph Street, the local VW dealers. I continue to mourn my crooked reasoning about not buying this vehicle because it has also stuck in my mind all these years.
I never mourn the fact that I failed to buy a Standard Vanguard. They tended to rust before your eyes.
But, back to the story, so do old Volkswagens, rust before your very eyes. You have to watch them carefully and never drive them in the rain.
I have owned Volkswagens where the rust has been ‘fixed up’ using cardboard, newspaper, silver paper, gaffa tape and old tin cans ironed out flat and then affixed to the car using pop rivets. This is all part of the adventure.
The other common issue with Volkswagens that I should point out is their vulnerability to catching fire in the engine compartment. There is a fuel line that goes to the carburettor that often becomes corroded and leaks gas on to the hot motor. Check it often and always travel with a fire extinguisher. There are also a number of good aftermarket fire extinguishing products available as well. I have Blaze Cut systems in all my vehicles.
Currently, I own four vintage VW’s and I’m on the lookout for a nice VW “Notchback” from the mid 1980’s. I have owned two of them in my past and they were fabulous cars. In my lifetime I have owned probably thirty Volkswagens and I loved every single one of them whether or not one could see the road through the floorboards.
Currently, My 1952 Bug won Best in Show and Best in Class at the 2024 VW Nationals held in Kaikoura. This one I found in California and had it converted to rhd in NZ by my masterful VW restorer Mr Dave Hermans at Revive’m near New Plymouth.
My ‘52 has matching numbers and was restored beautifully by the bloke in California who wanted the cash (lots of it) to shift to Thailand. This Beetle is a grand driver even without synchro on the gears. Double declutching has to be carefully learned.
This car, instead of small side windows, has “crotch coolers” to cool the cabin down. Vents open on the side of the car just behind the front guards.
Life has let me down, but this vehicle never has.
I have a 1958 Volkswagen Transporter which is being converted to a Samba by Dave Hermans. It’s been eight years now. I have had it back, but it is back in the North Island getting some minor issues ironed out. It has part power steering and this is a beautiful thing. Before I decided to restore it I hooned around in the Transporter for about fifteen years. The rego plate was “Furtha”. It has never failed to start.
The previous owner, no doubt deciding to get rid of the rust, gave it a quick flick in red and white. He also blew the gearbox on Takaka Hill.
Then I have a 1963 21-window VW Samba that I bought in Australia. It was a prize winning car and has a 2.3 litre motor. It was restored by Steve Hopkins who, apparently, is famous for this sort of thing. It has a Super Race Crank with Chevy journals, Mahle forged pistons and an Eagle Race cam. Ignition duties are carried out by a MagnaSpark system. It also has a Kennedy race clutch and a Freeway Flyer Transmission. It has a lot of other upgrades as well, like disc brakes and so on and so forth.
It had been owned by Michael Ryan who was Hugh Jackman’s personal trainer. Apparently, the Wolverine himself was often seen driving around Bondi Beach in it. It has been featured in various Volkswagen magazines.
It goes like a cut cat and you could easily cruise around all day at 80mph in it.
It is a thing of Beauty, a work of art.
My 1956 Beetle I have owned for about six or seven years. A woman owned it and restored it in Australia before that. It is numbers matching and is in a very nice condition. It remains a 6-volter. The only problem I have had was that the exhaust pipes had not been heat-protected and so the paint bubbled a bit around them which lead to rust. I have had that rust cut out now. A local mechanic whilst servicing it had it on a hoist. He proclaimed that the underside was perfect. “You could turn this car upside down and eat your dinner off it.” To be fair, I have never tried that.
I have had a mighty good life with lots of spooning in it. I’m here for the enjoyment of it all.
Actually, I’m away to do some spooning now.
Spooning and watching test rugby is the best. A try is often scored!
I rolled up to San Fran on an arctic Wellington Thursday night in a state of extreme ignorance with regards to the work of Troy Kingi. I’d begun to hear his name a lot and I was vaguely aware that he had become quite a major figure in the New Zealand music scene but I’d never actually got my shit together and given it a proper listen. Tonight, I’d fix that.
Leatherman and the Mojave Green marks the roll out of the eighth album on Kingi’s ludicrously prolific project of 10 albums, in 10 different genres, in 10 years. That is a level of productivity and accomplishment which is, quite frankly, slightly depressing to think about. He’s stated that the album is inspired by his all time personal favourite, the 2002 Queens of the Stone Age classic Songs for the Deaf. Kingi is speaking my language with that kind of talk. Songs for the Deaf were, for me, one of those works of art which hit a person in their impressionable high school years and permanently alter their taste thereafter. It was an introduction to a harder, darker, bluesy type of rock with more ambition and integrity than anything I’d heard before.
Troy Kingi takes the stage draped in the type of poncho get-up Clint Eastwood would approve of, with a buzzy Lawerence of Arabia style hat. He fits the part of a man emerging from the desert, having recorded this album at the iconic Rancho de la Luna studio in Joshua Tree, California. He oozes a larger than life charisma which seems almost too effortlessly cool to be from this slightly awkward country.
This is the part where any self respecting gig reviewer is supposed to give a run down of the set-list on the night with a poetic little description of each tune but, in all honesty, I have no idea what any of the song titles were. As unprofessional as that is, I actually think it really lends itself to hearing an album as a whole when you have no singles you’re impatiently waiting for. Throughout the evening, you can really feel the desert vibe Kingi has brought home with him from that mad land, the US of A. Leatherman posses a dark yet fun, noir-ish quality to it. The band achieve what all band’s aim for; to be so tight and well-drilled that they’re able to relax and have fun while casually killing it.
Troy Kingi and his band make a great case for the power and appeal of live music. My music taste has mellowed over the years as I’ve enthusiastically leaned into impending middle age and I think if I heard this harder type of rock as I scrolled through radio stations in the car, I’d probably keep scrolling but it goes bloody hard in the flesh. You can’t help but get a little hypnotised as the band draws the crowd in.
Kingi eggs the crowd on to start a mosh-pit for the final song of his performance. I’m too repressed to join in but there’s something heart warming about watching people losing it in a mosh. It’s a reckless abandonment in the name of fun. I have the feeling this may be the first of many Troy Kingi gigs I attend and I might even buy the album to finally find out what any of those songs are called.
Fashion is a funny thing—current, retro, high-end, street, boho, athleisure. It’s all ultimately subjective.
One thing is for certain: we all have that one piece of something special that evokes memories of times gone by, with many stories woven into it, and wish we could buy it again to make sure it never wears out.
Stepping into Hills Hats, you can’t help but feel this is where that exact kind of magic is made.
Founded in 1875 (yes, you read that right), Hills is approaching 150 years old. That’s an age worth pondering.
Not to get too heavy, but in that time, the world has seen the fall of the Berlin Wall, the Chernobyl disaster, two world wars, the space race, and—let’s not forget—the creation of the home computer.
In modern marketing, words like “heritage” and “authenticity” get thrown around a lot. But in truth, they’re rare to come by. Hills Hats, however, is the living embodiment of those words.
As you walk through the doors, you’re greeted by the smells, sights, and sounds of raw materials and fabrics—a vibrancy more akin to an exotic fabric market than to the streets of Petone.
A warmth envelops you as familiar yet unknown faces welcome you, eager to share stories and lessons from the world of hats.
The factory, aptly named “The Hatmosphere,” is warm and inviting while also being a pleasant assault on the senses. Trust us, you’ve never seen this many hats. The space invites curiosity and wonder, and every corridor or corner seems to lead to another equally stimulating and creative environment, filled with artifacts most have never seen.
The machinery and equipment alone are something to behold. Steam rises from pipes used for shaping hats, metal hat molds, felt brushes, and countless other hat-making tools are spread across the floors. Sewing machines hum as hands work diligently, producing a clear volume of craft. Natural smiles abound, but there’s also an unmistakable sense of pride and hard work in the air.
At the heart of the space is a sitting room, inviting customers to relax while others try on an array of hats. Comfortable, luxurious leather sofas form a cozy storytelling nook, a space that, we’re told, has also hosted many musicians over the years.
Hills Hats is celebrated for its traditional methods and high standards of craftsmanship. Every hat is handmade with meticulous attention to detail using premium materials. Sustainability is also a priority, with environmentally friendly materials and processes used wherever possible.
Their offerings are vast, from timeless styles like Panama hats and fedoras to more contemporary designs and bespoke creations. They also cater to more corporate niches, producing hats for uniforms, promotions, and events. With a strong reputation in New Zealand—and indeed, around the world—you’ve probably seen their work on the big screen.
Hats may often be overlooked, but they hold a unique significance. Sitting atop the head like a crown, they’re the perfect finishing touch. Over time, they mold to your shape and age with you.
At Phantom Billstickers, we live by the motto “flora for the concrete jungle,” ensuring vibrancy and character on the streets of New Zealand. Similarly, Hills Hats provides the crowning jewel for any outfit, on any occasion.
In a world where fashion trends come and go, Hills Hats stands as a timeless institution, blending heritage with craftsmanship and innovation. Whether you’re looking for a hat that tells a story, serves as a symbol of craftsmanship, or simply adds the finishing touch to your style, Hills has something for everyone. Every visit is not just a purchase—it’s an experience that connects the past with the present, proving that quality, authenticity, and a bit of magic never go out of style.
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