Hilarious little article in the NYT today on type anachronisms in film, “Good Film, Shame About the Helvetica,” featuring link to Mark Simonson’s Typecasting article. (Note also the ongoing notebook of sightings.*) As one who can’t help recognizing and calling out the name of the typefaces in the world around me, I’m not ashamed to declare my membership in “the subset of a subset of a subset of society” that cares.

Aside from love letters, money and presents, nothing received in the mail thrills me more than type catalogs.** Flopping on my bed with the latest offerings from Emigre and T-26 triggers a flight of fancy, imagining what publication, idea or product could embody the essence of each typeface.

* I’m also fond of a skinema, a dermatologist’s blog that tracks skin conditions and the meanings we ascribe to them in films.
** Until recently. It seems garden plant and seed catalogs have started inspiring the same full sensory fantasies i used to feel only for type. Sorry type.