Lifestyle

In a frenetic digital era, he’s helping Angelenos rediscover the classic cassette player

Published

3 weeks ago

March 31, 2026

In a frenetic digital era, he’s helping Angelenos rediscover the classic cassette player

Stepping into Jr. Market boutique in Highland Park is like entering a 1980s time warp. Built into a refurbished shipping container, it’s filled with everything from tiny Walkman-style portables to colorful, number-flip clock radios and, naturally, boom boxes of all sizes. Few are more imposing than the TV the Searcher, a Sharp boom box from the early ’80s that features a built-in, 5-inch color television.

“Try lifting it, it’s really heavy,” warns Spencer Richardson, the shop’s owner. Indeed, the machine is at least 15 pounds without the 10 D batteries that power the unit. He adds, “I don’t think you’re taking this to the beach so you could watch TV while you listen to music.”

An affable, hyper-knowledgeable proprietor in his early 30s, Richardson repairs and resells analog music technology from the 1980s or earlier. In bringing these rehabbed players back into circulation, he’s helping others rediscover a musical format once left for dead. While his hobby-turned-side hustle started as “a gateway to discover sounds” that he otherwise would not have heard, it now attracts curious customers willing to drop $100-plus for a vintage Technics RS-M2 or My First Sony Walkman. His customers include older baby boomers and Gen Xers nostalgic for the players of their childhood, but most have been millennials like himself, drawn to something tactile and analog in an era when everything else disappears into the digital ether.

A rare Technics RS-M2 stereo radio tape deck.

Unlike turntables, which have become increasingly high-tech thanks to the “vinyl revival” of the last 20 years, almost all cassette players in current production rely on the same, basic tape mechanism from Taiwan, Richardson explains. Though cassette culture is enjoying its own period of rediscovery — albeit on a far smaller scale — he hasn’t seen a market emerge for newly engineered tape decks. And he’s fine with that.

“I’m not one of those people that’s like, ‘Why don’t they make good new tape players?’” he says. “No one needs to make it better. You’re still better off buying a refurbished one from the time when they made them.”

That’s where he steps in.

Richardson works on a Nakamichi tape deck out of his repair studio in downtown L.A.

It’s easy to forget that when cassettes debuted in the mid-1960s, the technology was groundbreaking. Not only were the players far more portable than turntables but unlike records, tapes were resilient to being tossed about. Even more profoundly, cassettes democratized access to the act of recording itself since cassette technology required minimal infrastructure and cost.

“I think about how incredible it must have been for people to realize they could just put whatever they wanted onto a tape, dub it, give it to a friend,” says Richardson.

Entire genres of music, especially in the developing world, became far more accessible across borders. In some countries, big records are still released on cassette. “I have a Filipino release of Kanye West’s ‘College Dropout’ on tape,” Richardson says.

The constraints of the technology guided the listening experience. Because skipping songs on a player was a hassle, most people sat with cassette albums as a track-by-track, linear journey, the antithesis to the algorithmic, shuffle-centric playlists ubiquitous on today’s streaming platforms. It’s a pace that Richardson appreciates.

“I want things to be intentional and slow,” he says. “I don’t need them to be optimized.”

He learned how to repair gear by watching YouTube videos, perusing old manuals and through trial and error.

Born in the early 1990s, Richardson grew up in Santa Monica and the Pacific Palisades, where his mother’s home was lost in the L.A. wildfires last year. He’s just old enough to remember cassettes as a child: “My mom had books on tape like ‘Winnie the Pooh,’ but I wasn’t out buying tapes.” Fast forward to the mid-2010s and he was working at the now-defunct Touch Vinyl in West L.A. “Back in 2014, we started this little in-store tape label,” he explained. “Bands would come to play, and we’d duplicate 10 tapes and give them away or sell them.” Richardson slowly began collecting cassettes but after the store closed a few years later, he realized how hard it was to find people to service his tape players.

Finally, once the pandemic hit in 2020 and everyone was stuck at home, he decided to learn how to repair his gear by watching YouTube. “I was just fascinated by the videos, absorbing soldering techniques and tools you might need,” he said. With no formal engineering background, Richardson began collecting information online, perusing old manuals, learning through trial and error. “You just need to get your hands in there and be like, ‘Oh, OK, I see how this works,’ or maybe I don’t see how this works, and I’m just going to bang my head against the wall, and then a year later, try again.” His first successful repair was for his Teac CX-311, a compact stereo cassette player/recorder that he still owns. “It has some quirks but runs well.”

A few years later, Richardson’s girlfriend, Faith, suggested he start selling his players online via an Instagram account — jrmarket.radio — originally created for a short-lived internet station. Tim Mahoney, his childhood friend and a professional photographer, shot the units against a plain white backdrop, as if for an art catalog. A community of enthusiasts quickly found his account and Richardson began selling pieces online and via pop-ups. In 2024, the owners of vintage clothing store the Bearded Beagle invited him to take over the parking lot space behind their new location on Figueroa Street Opening a brick-and-mortar store hadn’t been his ambition but Richardson accepted the opportunity: “I never envisioned opening my own physical store. It’s hard enough to have a retail space in Los Angeles to sell something that’s very niche.”

Jr. Market operates as a shop Thursday through Saturday in Highland Park.

Jr. Market — whose name is inspired by Japanese convenience stores known as “junior markets” — isn’t trying to appeal to audiophiles though Richardson does stock studio-quality recording decks. He primarily looks for players with appealing visual design, most of them made in Japan where Richardson has been traveling to since graduating high school. Through those trips, he’s learned where to source pristinely kept gear, including his best-selling Corocasse: a bright red plastic cube of a radio/tape player, introduced by National in 1983. He also keeps an eye out for the unique Sanyo MR-QF4 from 1979, an elongated boom box with four speakers, designed to play either horizontally or flipped into a vertical tower.

The store also stocks a small selection of portable record players, including a Victor PK-2, a whimsical, plastic-bodied three-in-one turntable, tape player and AM radio that looks like something designed by a modernist artist for Fisher-Price. That went to local author and historian Sam Sweet, who visited the store with no intention of buying anything and left with the Victor, which now sits on his writing desk. “Spencer’s part of a grand tradition of workshop tinkerers and specialty mechanics,” Sweet says. “The refurbished devices he sells are as much a reflection of his ethos and expertise as they are treasures of the past.”

Last year, Imma Almourzaeva, an Echo Park art director, came to the store and purchased a massive 1979 Sony Zilba’p boom box, which is nearly 2 feet wide and over a foot tall, with wood veneer panels to boot. Almourzaeva, who grew up in Russia in the ’90s, wanted a player that offered “the tactile feel of my childhood and bringing it back into my daily routine, something familiar, something warm.” The Zilba’p is the largest boom box Richardson has carried and Almourzaeva said, “It’s aesthetically a showstopper. Maybe I have a Napoleon complex because I’m pretty small too. It’s like ‘go big or go home’ for me.” She shared that she recently bought a Soviet-era boom box from Richardson for her brother for Christmas. “It turned out my mom grew up using the same brand of stereo,” Almourzaeva says. Richardson had told her that Soviet boom boxes are “very DIY, more funky and finicky.”

Refurbishment is one of Richardson’s specialties, including repairing customer units, each of them a puzzle he enjoys solving. No matter if a player is sparse or feature-packed, the simple act of playing a cassette creates a sense of calm and focus for him. “You’re not distracted, because it doesn’t do anything else,” he says. In a time where every “smart” device is marketed with dizzying arrays of features, that simplicity can feel downright revolutionary.

Lifestyle

Armani Goes Back to the Archive

Published

11 hours ago

April 21, 2026

Press Room

In the year since his death, there has been no hard pivot at Armani. The shadow of the founder has stayed in place over the Milan HQ, where the brand seems happy to leave it. Armani is not just plumbing the past for continued inspiration, it’s reselling it.

Today, Giorgio Armani is announcing Archivio, a grouping of 13 men’s and women’s looks, plucked from the brand’s back catalog and remade for today. (And, yes, at today’s prices.) There’s a jacket in pinstriped alpaca of 1979 vintage; a buttery one-and-a-half breasted jacket with a maitre d’s flair that first appeared in 1987; and an unstructured silk-linen suit that will activate ’90s flashbacks for die-hard Armani clients and those who want to capture that era’s nostalgia. The advertising campaign was shot and styled by Eli Russell Linnetz, who has his own label, ERL, but always seems to be the first call brands make when they want sultry photos with the aura of Details magazine circa 1995. (He did a similar thing for Guess recently.)

Linnetz’s images are a reminder of how Armani’s work still reverberates decades later.

Archivio is also a canny recognition of what shoppers crave now. On the resale market, Armani wares are as coveted as can be. Every week it seems as if I get an email from Ndwc0, a British vintage store, announcing a new drop of meaty-shouldered ’90s Armani power suits. They sell for less than $500. At Sorbara’s in Brooklyn, you can buy a tan Giorgio Armani vest for $225.

That vintage-mad audience is in Armani’s sights: To introduce the collection, it’s staging an installation, opening today, at Giorgio Armani’s Milan boutique. It will feature the hosts of “Throwing Fits,” a New York-based podcast whose hosts wear vintage Armani button-ups and shout out stores like Sorbara’s.

It’s prudent, if a bit disconnected. Part of the charm of old Armani is that it can be found on the cheap. I’m wearing a pair of vintage Giorgio Armani corduroys as I write this. I bought them for $76 on eBay. Archivio is reverent, but its prices, which range from $1,025 to $12,000, may scare off shoppers willing to do the searching themselves.

If you ask me, the next frontier of this archive fixation is that a brand — and a big one — will release a mountain of genuine vintage pieces. J. Crew and Banana Republic have tried this at a small scale, but a luxury house like Armani hasn’t gone there. Yet. Eventually, Armani (or a brand like it) is going to grab hold of the market that exists around its brand, but through which it gets no cut.

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Lifestyle

The story behind this rare architectural speaker from cult Japanese fashion brand TheSoloist

Published

12 hours ago

April 21, 2026

Press Room

This story is part of Image’s April’s Thresholds issue, a tour of L.A. architecture as it’s actually experienced.

You hear it before you see it.

Turning the corner of the 15th floor corridor of the historic American Cement Building, a low thrum of electronic sounds seeps through the door of Archived, an L.A. luxury vintage curator. Inside, standing 43 inches tall, a silver speaker from Takahiro Miyashita’s brand TheSoloist vibrates high fidelity through the showroom.

Constructed of 3D-printed polycarbonate resin and aluminum, with a wide amp frequency range of 20Hz to 25KHz, the object looks less like a speaker and more like a relic of time. It is an artifact set in concrete, chiseled away to reveal a replica of the Flatiron Building in New York City. Containing seven audio channels and two bass speakers, its vibrations can be felt against the skin.

Dream Liu, along with his partner Marquel Williams, founded Archived in 2019 to resell rare vintage collectibles. Their designer wardrobe houses some of the most sought after pieces in the industry — like a 1990 Chrome Hearts biker jacket— but the collection of homeware, including a Giovanni Tommaso Garattoni glass chair or a Saint Laurent arcade machine, is what greets you when you walk in. “That’s one way we stand out from all the other archival brands,” Liu says. “We’re very much deep into everything design-related, not just fashion.”

Liu first encountered TheSoloist speaker a few years ago at the home of a friend, a lighting designer working in music who he admired. The speaker, he says, lived at the back of his mind ever since. Archived eventually sourced it directly through TheSoloist’s manufacturer, now acting as an intermediary seller. Only a few hundred of the silver color-way, on display in the showroom, were produced. Even fewer exist of the black, for sale on their website for $9,500.

Miyashita, the cult Japanese designer behind early-2000s punk label Number (N)ine and later TheSoloist, is known for fusing meticulous Japanese craftsmanship with distinctly American motifs. The speaker, for instance, pays homage to New York City, where he opened his original store. Without even seeing a single garment, his style is clear: avant-garde, grunge and very rock ’n’ roll.

(Archived)

Six months ago, Archived opened its MacArthur Park showroom, a brightly lit loft with exposed beams, floor-to-ceiling windows and a panoramic view of downtown. Today they are a team of about six people. Distinctive objects like TheSoloist speaker are an extension of not only the brand’s imprint, but the architecture that houses it. “The speaker fits perfectly into this space.”

Archived, whose clientele consists mostly of celebrities and high-profile curators such as Timothée Chalamet, Travis Scott and Don Toliver, sources its pieces through consignments from sellers and endless hours spent hunting across international marketplaces. When it comes to selecting which piece makes it to the floor, Liu looks for collectible items and whatever fits the brand’s taste, which can be described as minimal avant-garde with a touch of fine craftsmanship.

“Nothing is random,” Liu says. Every item at Archived has a story, from the Giseok Kim aluminum shelf where an unworn pair of 2005 reconstructed Nike Dunks are displayed, to the Marc Newson racks which archival Rick Owens hangs off.

The speaker is valuable, Liu admits, because of Miyashita’s reputation as one of the greats, placing him alongside designers like Jun Takahashi and Yohji Yamamoto. “Our audience knows his designs and all of his great collections,” he says. “So the speaker itself speaks volumes.”

Originally from West Palm Beach, Fla., Liu moved to California to study fashion merchandising at FIDM in San Diego. Before that, he had dabbled in architecture. “It’s always been in the back of my mind,” he says.

Liu said he recognizes that designers, after a time, get fatigued with profit-driven conglomerates and begin to delve into other art forms. “Fashion is just another art form, and I think eventually, when [designers] tire of making clothes — Helmut Lang as an example, even Tom Ford — they transition to art.”

If the nature of design is building upon and taking from existing works, then creating an archival space is collecting pieces of history. “Everything is a reference point,” Liu says. “Every piece here has made an impact on the current climate of fashion.”

To Liu, items like the speaker are worthy of preservation because some of them are only getting rarer and rarer to find. “Pieces like this deserve to be presented properly, and be in spaces that reflect the caliber of the clothing,” he says. “You can put random objects in a beautiful space and that object becomes important.”

Lifestyle

How ‘The Devil Wears Prada 2’ Red Carpet Looks Came Together

Published

23 hours ago

April 21, 2026

Press Room

How ‘The Devil Wears Prada 2’ Red Carpet Looks Came Together

The scene recalled the frenzy that unfolds backstage during fashion week: On a recent Monday, in a room full of clothing racks, the stylist Micaela Erlanger was working alongside a team of tailors and assistants. But they were not preparing for your average fashion show.

Ms. Erlanger and the group had assembled at her studio in Manhattan to prepare looks for the actress Meryl Streep, Ms. Erlanger’s client of 11 years, to wear during the press tour for “The Devil Wears Prada 2,” the buzzy sequel to a beloved film set at a fictionalized version of a certain glossy fashion magazine.

In the sequel, Ms. Streep steps back into the stilettos of Miranda Priestly, the publication’s glamorous editor in chief. She stars alongside Anne Hathaway and Emily Blunt, who also reprise their roles as Andrea Sachs and Emily Charlton, characters who served as Miranda’s assistants in the original film. Based on a novel and released in 2006, it has become a cult favorite among serious and casual followers of fashion alike.

To prime fans for the sequel, Ms. Streep has appeared on the cover of Vogue and, along with some of her co-stars, has traveled to Mexico, South Korea, China and Japan in recent weeks for premieres. On Monday, cast members appeared in New York, and they will travel to London for more events before “The Devil Wears Prada 2” is widely released on May 1.

Each affair has offered the cast members a chance to turn heads in finery on par with the clothing worn by the characters they play in the movie. Balenciaga, Chanel, Valentino and — yes — Prada are just some of the labels they have sported as they have traveled the globe.

To pull off this fashion feat — and to avoid any style faux pas — Ms. Erlanger, 40, has been in constant communication with Erin Walsh, 43, Ms. Hathaway’s stylist of seven years, and Jessica Paster, 60, who has been styling Ms. Blunt for going on two decades. The women have been operating as something of a hive mind for months, sharing details of the actresses’ looks — the brands, the accessories, the color palettes — in group chats, calls and conversations on the sidelines of runway shows.

“I got to see Erin and Micaela at fashion shows,” Ms. Paster said. “We would whisper: ‘I like that. I like that. I like this. I like that.’”

In a conversation that has been edited and condensed, Ms. Paster, Ms. Erlanger and Ms. Walsh discussed their collaborative relationship, the stakes of styling press tours and the ways they have used fashion to build hype for “The Devil Wears Prada 2.”

How have you each approached dressing your client for the press tour?

MICAELA ERLANGER With Meryl, we leaned into this idea of powerful silhouettes and shapes that you haven’t necessarily seen her in. This is a fashion movie — we’re leaning into it. I would say that there are a lot of references that the fashion community will appreciate and enjoy. We have not just been referencing the first film, but referencing references within the film. I call it “meta dressing.”

JESSICA PASTER You have to remember that Emily Charlton was an assistant 20 years ago. She has evolved. So I’m approaching her as a little stronger — a girl with power. She doesn’t need to borrow clothes anymore. Designers are now giving her the clothes, and she’s out buying clothes.

ERIN WALSH I guess I am hesitant to tell you a theme. I don’t want to encapsulate it. Ultimately, it’s always about how we make a person feel their very best.

You said you communicate via group text. What are you saying to one another?

ERLANGER We have been, from logistics to creative, kind of strategizing among ourselves. What look works best here or there? What’s the other person wearing? Will they look great together?

PASTER I remember one text among us was like: “I’m thinking red. I’m thinking a little burgundy red. And I’m thinking red, too. Is it weird that they’re all wearing red?” I said, “No, let’s lean into that, and let’s do it all in red.”

What we do is make a picture more beautiful. If we have two people who are wearing red, and one is wearing white or purple or black, that is the girl that should be in the middle of a photo. It’s not about, “My girl needs to be in the middle.” If something goes viral, it’s going to help Erin; it’s going to help me; it’s going to help Micaela; and it’s going to help the movie because it gets everyone buzzing and excited.

WALSH With our job, there are always curveballs thrown your way. By working together, we can better navigate any kind of situation in a joyful way without having breakdowns.

Styling has a competitive aspect, in that there are only so many looks, and everyone can’t always get what she wants. How are you navigating that together?

PASTER There are a lot of stories about stylists competing with each other. We’re not. We are so busy. We do not have time. Micaela is calling me because she needs something. I have so many questions to ask Erin and Micaela. If one of these two girls needs me, I will be there for them.

WALSH Removing anything competitive or not collaborative from the equation makes us stronger. It makes our work better.

ERLANGER Collaboration also benefits our clients. Everybody wins when we are aligned.

I’m curious, where were you in your careers when the original “The Devil Wears Prada” premiered?

ERLANGER We have stages of our careers that directly relate back to the first movie. I was an intern at Condé Nast, the company that owns Vogue.

WALSH I was an assistant at Vogue when it came out. I watched Anne onscreen. “The Devil Wears Prada” I knew, you know, in my skin.

PASTER I was a stylist, and, in fact, I was trying to get Emily Blunt as a client.

Modern press tours can involve several premieres in addition to other events. How has that changed how you work?

ERLANGER Social media has made every moment a photo op. Even if it is a junket day when your clients are sitting in a room for on-camera interviews, those pictures get picked up. So every single moment has become press-worthy. And, therefore, there’s more intentionality behind what clients are wearing.

PASTER People forget that we just can’t bring in a dress or two, bust out a look and call it a day. Micaela and Erin are going with nine suitcases all over the world to fit their girls, and I have two trips of fittings in Ireland.

What clothes have you been wearing during the press tour?

WALSH You’ve got to look the part. I tend to, in these situations, reach for more empowering pieces, like a shoulder pad and heels. I don’t work in flats.

ERLANGER I need a flat, and I kind of want to be more comfortable. I’m in jeans and a blazer and a button down and a flat.

PASTER I’m working in sweats and with my hair in a bun.