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MAGAZINE
February 21, 1993
Howzat, again? "He carried the delicate acetate pressings to the Brooklyn basement studio . . . ." ("Cantor Buried Tale," Palm Latitudes, Jan. 17). There's no such thing as an acetate pressing. Pressings, back in 1950, were either in shellac or vinyl; acetates were made by being cut on a lathe, and they were called originals. They were cut neither into wax nor into an acetate plastic but rather into a complex mixture of organic resins and oils that had been applied to a base material, usually aluminum.
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NEWS
November 8, 1986
Concerning the design of the Tower Records Store in Torrance included in Sam Kaplan's column of Nov. 1 ("The Harmony of Nature, Architecture"), an interior space, inward-looking if you will, is a programmatic requirement for Tower Records. Vinyl warps in the sun, and in several Tower stores, where we have designed various kinds of shading devices the results have not been wholly satisfactory. Sunlight bleaches out neon and video, and creates effects that are unpredictable. We are continuing our exploration of neon and video as a design medium.
NEWS
January 2, 1994
Re "Faking It" (Dec. 17): So the vegans get free press in View promoting their lifestyle sans animal products. Thankfully, in America we have the freedom to choose what to wear, eat and benefit from (medical advances, for example). I choose to wear natural products--fur, leather, wool and silk. This way my conscience is clear. I'm not polluting the planet with rubber and vinyl manufacturing plants. I'm not supporting those huge tankers that carry gasoline from which synthetics are made, and that in one accident at sea have wiped out entire ecosystems.
NEWS
May 18, 1989 | LYNN SIMROSS
For women, and perhaps for panty-hose promoter Joe Namath, there's Runaway, a new, clear liquid that stops hosiery runs in seconds. Runaway, which doesn't stick to your leg like nail polish, comes in a little bottle that can be kept in purse or desk drawer. It has a control-tip sponge applicator that measures out the proper amount of liquid. Tracie Cessna--a computer sales representative from Westlake Village, Calif., who says she invented her product because she got tired of slapping "gobs of sticky nail polish" on her legs--cautions consumers to keep Runaway, which is flammable, away from heat or flame.
NEWS
March 14, 2014 | By Kari Howard
I'm one of those music fans who never really gave their hearts to CDs. Sure, I bought a million of them, but their chilly perfection always left me cold, and I quietly mourned the warmth of vinyl. So it was particularly satisfying that when MP3s came along, not only did CDs fall by the wayside, but a new generation of listeners got turned on to vinyl. Of course, I had never given up my turntable, but it got a little less lonely in the album fan club. Then I saw something that's been making waves at SXSW this week: a wayback machine that turns MP3s into vinyl.
SPORTS
December 23, 2010 | Bill Plaschke
"W-w-w-hat is this?" As he tore open the brightly colored paper, the boy's heart dropped. It was flat, so it wasn't a baseball or a glove. He ran his fingers across the blue vinyl cover, touched the white sheets of paper, slowly bit his lip to keep from crying. This wasn't a Christmas present, it was a school supply. It was a binder filled with blank pages. The boy looked angrily over at the balding man wearing a weary smile and a stray piece of tinsel on his shoulder. "I-I-I can't play with this," the boy said.
HEALTH
August 11, 2008 | Roy M. Wallack
Retired Huntington Beach firefighter Robert LaFever, 61, and his wife, Gaye, 57, a retired dental hygienist, wanted to stay fit with daily swimming and water running, but didn't like the heavily chlorinated water at the gym and didn't have the budget and backyard space for their own full-size pool. The solution? Last year they got a swim spa -- essentially an elongated hot tub with a current emanating from one end.
MAGAZINE
April 14, 2002 | TERRY MCDERMOTT
The beginning of the end of life as we know it occurred here, on a beaten patch of asphalt out in the vast, flat no man's land of greater Los Angeles. The beginning of the end came unannounced. There was no salute, no blast of trumpets or heavenly choir. It came in the sunken heat of summer at an abandoned drive-in movie theater called the Roadium. The Roadium was graced by a grand arched gate that, in its day, promised entry to whatever secret kingdom Hollywood could conjure.
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