Gone in an instant

Yes, nothing screams nostalgia like Polaroids.

Unfortunately, any future shrieking is about to get silenced. To celebrate it’s 60th anniversary, the Polaroid company announced it was discontinuing its instant film. Polaroid, rightly, feels its namesake products are obsolete. Digital cameras swept in, marrying the technology of a standard camera with the instant gratification of a Polaroid. In fact, the digital cameras are even quicker than its predecessor without the agonizing need to wait or the irrational desire to shake the square back and forth as if the image simply needs drying.

But nobody is ever going to write the song lyric "shake it like a digital camera” (Google OutKast, those of you who know mid-century photographic technology a little bit better than overplayed 2003 radio hits). A movie hero might use a digital camera to jog his memory but it won’t be quite the same as the haunting Polaroids used in "Memento.”

There is something unexplainably quaint and heartwarming about those stacks of Polaroids that snatched a piece of time without the benefit of digital touchups. Have big hair and banana clips at that birthday party? Too bad. There is no photo shop help for that. Are your eyes shining red like a demon took over as the family gathers around the Thanksgiving turkey? Same story — no fancy software or button was going to make that event picture-perfect. Unflattering Polaroids could be thrown away but not before they were a tangible photo in all its glory. Before the shot made it to the garbage can — remember, they never tore but crumpled — there was always the opportunity to grab it from the unfortunate subject’s hand and pass it around the sleepover amid cruel laughter. Try doing that with a digital camera.

My collection of Polaroids are a hodge-podge of ages and adolescent attempts to be fashionable. The majority are souvenirs from junior high dances, instantly developed and tucked into a construction paper card for safekeeping. Only $1 — maybe $2 at the eight-grade prom — committed to history the green mile-high hair and nails of a seventh-grade witch or the overly-Kohled eyes of an eighth-grade Cleopatra.

Polaroids even found a place in early adulthood. How else is one supposed to properly appreciate the frivolous escapades of 20-something females if not by photographing the boys offering up flowers, a foot rub, a bizarre set of dance moves all in the hopes of a smile and a phone number? Digital cameras weren’t an option back in those Jurassic days and regular instant cameras required the sober commitment to take the film in for developing. Even one-hour processing is too long if it’s not the same night.

Polaroids also offered up a world of possibilities: they are a staple of kidnappers (just kidding) and home modeling adventures. They worked pretty well to document findings for science projects and the wide white border was perfect for scrawling a note. Fashionistas swear to photographing outfits to check the look before leaving the house. Many a wedding has benefitted from instant pictures pasted into guest books at receptions. Polaroids step in sometimes for a quick law enforcement photo or to amaze a child who might just believe it all works by magic. Scavenger hunts, too, benefited from Polaroids — even if the games sometimes were hosted by obnoxious women in bars trying to gather flowers, foot rubs and bizarre sets of dance moves.

Now, though, the time has come for Polaroid to fade to black, to step aside for greater advancements and take it’s rightful place next to the record, the Walkman and the Super 8 camera. Ironically, like the things and people it captured over the years, the Polaroid camera is now just a snapshot of time.

Michelle Durand’s column "Off the Beat” runs every Tuesday and Thursday. She can be reached by e-mail: michelle@smdailyjournal.com or by phone: (650) 344-5200 ext. 102. What do you think of this column? Send a letter to the editor: letters@smdailyjournal.com.