Among the first Bakelite buttons I ever purchased, these very black buttons have a very serious look about them. Strangely elegant and curiously slanted, I always associate these gentleman's buttons with tuxedoed hijinks and dark deeds. They have a studious yet sinister appearance and for that reason I've nicknamed these my "Leopold and Loeb" buttons. And on that note, here's a scandalous history lesson:
Nathan Leopold and Richard Loeb were a couple of wealthy students enrolled at the University of Chicago in the early 1920's. Snappy dressers with high IQs and snobbish leanings, the duo dominated newspaper headlines in 1924 when they confessed to the brutal murder of a fourteen-year-old boy named Bobby Franks. The handsome killers shocked the nation with their icy manners during what was then described as "the trial of the century." Both were sentenced to life imprisonment. Years later in 1936, Richard Loeb was stabbed to death in a prison shower. In 1958, Nathan Leopold was released from prison and moved to Puerto Rico where he took up birdwatching until his death in the 1970's. When asked why they committed the murder, the young scholars explained that they just wanted to carry out a "perfect crime."
-Sherbert McGee
Neatly carved in a soft tone of creamed corn Bakelite, this stubby log button (from the 1920's) looks like a hunk of grooved butter. Glowingly hearty and hardy, Bakelite has a high-quality merit that sets it apart from the substandard plastics that pretty much clog the world in today's nonstop ambush of material cheapness. Bakelite was a classy and short-lived plastic. Because it can't be recycled, it got bumped out of production in favor of more modern plastics, which form all the disposable "stuff" we use nowadays. Thankfully, there's probably a Bakelite leftover sitting on a shelf in an antique shop within fifty miles of just about everyone. It's getting more and more rare, but it's out there.
-Sherbert McGee
Here's an old brown coat button with a handsome mixture of etched and carved details. The angled side of the button sports a jim-dandy crisscross pattern while the top layer presents an engraved flower. Rich and chocolatey, this button tested positive for Bakelite and dates back to the 1930's when times was bad, but buttons were absolutely gorgeous.
Visit Doreen's online store
Click here: BUTTONS FROM THE ATTIC
-Sherbert McGee
In honor of my 400th blog post today, here's a Bakelite button that emblazons four colors: chocolate, orange, green and cherry—tightly fitted together on this bright octagon wowzer from the mid to late 1920's. Finding and collecting Bakelite buttons has been an exciting pursuit for me over the course of many years and even after 400 posts, I still have quite a jackpot of Bakelite treasures to spotlight. So stay tuned, button fans! I'm just getting started.
-Sherbert McGee
Different varieties of jellyfish buttons are nothing new on this blog. Since last year, I've posted at least three types of apple juice buttons that I've compared to the transparent marine creature. But unlike anything I've ever shown you before, here are six jellyfish buttons—all sunning themselves together with one of them flipped over so that you can see the self-shank style buttonhole. These buttons are Bakelite and probably go back to the Great Depression.
-Sherbert McGee
Looky here, antique buffs! For years and years I searched the world for a Bakelite button with a zigzag design as pictured in coffee table books about Jazz Age charms of the 1920's. At long last, this button entered my collection a few months ago and I'm over the moon to have found it. In fact, now that this art deco button has made its way into my collection, I want another one. Constructed of cherry and creamed corn Bakelite, this ritzy rarity is one hot humdinger!
-Sherbert McGee
Enormous and overflowing with deeply carved waves, these Bakelite buttons are a shiny fern green color. The second I clasped my eyes on these lithe beauties I thought of two side-by-side mermaids. For more buttons that smack of oceanic craftsmanship, stay tuned! Next month I'm going to post an entire week of Bakelite buttons that carry themes of the sea.
Visit Doreen's online store
Click here: BUTTONS FROM THE ATTIC
-Sherbert McGee
An ideally yellow button in the color we Bakelite fanatics call custard, here's a sunny chunk of 1929. Divvied into six folds and then etched with decorative lines, this carefree canary sports a winning composure and a vintage cheeriness. Unlike the cheapjack plastics of today that are farted out of modern machinery by the gazillions, there's something wonderfully spirited about a Bakelite button. You really have to hold one in your hand to appreciate the feeling. Then again, be careful. Bakelite is bizarrely seductive and you might end up starting a collection of this highly charismatic material.
-Sherbert McGee
Some Bakelite buttons are infused with metallic glitter and some are permeated with multi-colored flecks of different colors of Bakelite. Rarely do I find Bakelite buttons that contain cupcake sprinkles, but here one is! The color of the Bakelite is apple juice and the inner sprinkles are probably bits of punched-out celluloid. I was going to post this button later this year on my birthday, but somehow today felt like the right time. Probably dating back to the early-1940's, this little merrymaker is one of my most prized discoveries. Whoopee!
-Sherbert McGee
Founded on a butterscotch base, this 3-tone button gives prominence to a top layer of licorice and cherry Bakelite that's divided diagonally and forms a four-petaled flower or a clover motif. Enhanced further with art deco carvings, the button looks like it's modeling for a chapter on 1920's fashion in a book of design through the decades. Though measuring less than an inch across, this pretty button flaunts enormous style.
-Sherbert McGee
Although this piece of Bakelite looks like a chocolate button, the photograph is slightly misleading. In real life, the suspicious color is closer to a tannish toffee and less of a legit chocolate. Carved to such an extensive depth, the square-like shape of this button is devoid of any true corners. As a result, the shape is more of a splatter or a splotch than a square. A rare toffee splotch! circa 1928.
-Sherbert McGee
Sometimes a button is so obviously Bakelite that it's not even worth testing it to see if it turns out positive. This is one of those buttons that just screams, "I'M BAKELITE!" What's unique about this one is that, aside from the buttonholes, this creamed corn baby was perforated in 16 places. These little openings, situated over carved indentations, make this button one heck of a holey ripsnorter.
Visit Doreen's online store
Click here: BUTTONS FROM THE ATTIC
-Sherbert McGee
A number of years ago I was antiquing in the Midwest and found a set of rare buttons that combined Bakelite and cork. I passed on purchasing those buttons and regretted the decision for a long time. Fortunately, another Bakelite/cork combo came along a few years later and here it is. The Bakelite that forms the basis of this button is licorice black and the cork strip still yields to its original pliability—though I won't be sticking a tack in this button too soon. circa 1935.
-Sherbert McGee
Mother's Day is just around the corner and this morning I asked myself, "Of all of my buttons, which one reminds me the most of my mom?" The winner is this extra bright and sensationally gorgeous button in first-class cherry red. Everything about this button emits a nifty charisma. The Bakelite is carved into a chic art deco image that's lent itself to an ideal amount of patina resting in the chiseled flower and leaves. Suddenly, the botanical design is cut off by three glossy folds in the Bakelite, a feature that smacks of 1920's-era style and dramatic visual appeal. A pretty button for a pretty lady (maybe even a flapper!), this old treasure is the height of Bakelite razzle-dazzle.
-Sherbet McGee
Of all the Bakelite colors, I think orange juice Bakelite is the most mesmerizing. I get transfixed on the swirls that sit frozen inside of the plastic like snapshots of a strange substance running through liquid. Case in point: Here's a button in the shape of a guitar pick (made of Bakelite) that's flooded with complexities of orange juice squiggles. Design-wise, this button's got a rippled effect that I've angled in the sun for highlighting. From the 1930's.
-Sherbert McGee
These deep green buttons found me recently and I was psyched to see that they tested positive for Bakelite—probably Prystal Bakelite since they are definitely transparent in a tone that leans toward teal, but stays on the green side. Carved with an art deco motif that reminds me of flower buds just starting to bloom, these buttons convey the stylized floral craze of 1920's elegance.
-Sherbert McGee
This antique toggle has been in my collection for years and I don't remember where it came from. A two-tone art deco button in a minimalistic style, both parts tested positive for Bakelite: a licorice orb wrapped around the midsection of an apple juice column. Fun and chic, this toggle-button sports the spirit of the 1920's with a vogue wittiness that's still modish by today's standards.
-Sherbert McGee
Oh boy, do I get a kick out of this bizarro button with its bang-up fusion of plastic and stippled metal. The middle piece is chocolate Bakelite and I'm no expert when it comes to metals, but I believe the four puffy side parts are brass. It's almost like a chunk of brown Bakelite nestled itself into a steely, freckled pillow. I have never seen another button like this one. circa 1930.
Visit Doreen's online store
Click here: BUTTONS FROM THE ATTIC
-Sherbert McGee
Several types of gear buttons exist in my collection, but these are my absolute favorites. Larger than dimes, but just a tad smaller than nickels, this group of four is a handsome set in the light yellow color that we Bakelite collectors call "creamed corn" (though in this photograph they have the look of a slightly darker custard). Situated side by side, these buttons appear as if they might lock teeth and start functioning together like the inner mechanisms of actual clockwork. Made in the 1920's.
-Sherbert McGee
These very bright red buttons are perfectly bonkers with their strange spattering of cosmic loops bouncing around like inflatable donuts. The playful design is factory-pressed onto the Bakelite, not carved. I don't collect the "pressed" variety of Bakelite buttons unless they boast an unusual feature and in this case I couldn't resist the cheerful downpour of these quirky SpaghettiOs. circa 1930.
Visit Doreen's online store
Click here: BUTTONS FROM THE ATTIC
-Sherbert McGee
Not quite rootbeer, the color of this Bakelite button is more of a light maple syrup. Stranger still, look closely at this carved beauty and notice the suspicious dark spot hovering along the top-center area. I'll be damned if that's not a shark! A recent addition to my collection, I've enjoyed studying this button under the light. After all, not all buttons come with ominous silhouettes of deadly fish.
Visit Doreen's online store
Click here: BUTTONS FROM THE ATTIC
-Sherbert McGee
Smiling straight at you, here's a dark wine-colored or raspberry button in tested and confirmed Bakelite. Highly carved sections form a curly hairdo, thick lips and a goggle-eyed stare, resulting in the grinning face of a harmless ghoul. Or is it harmless? I get a Haitian voodoo vibe from this button's mysterious countenance. To be honest, this button gives me the heebie-jeebies. c. 1932.
-Sherbert McGee
Just added to my collection last week, I'm excited to have found this pair of heavy coat buttons bearing a design from the world of art deco. Notice the simple geometric pattern that alternates between licorice black and a dark moss tone. Sharp and stylin' in the 1920's, back then these buttons might've studded the getup of a bohemian piano player in a rambunctious speakeasy. These are Bakelite buttons.
-Sherbert McGee
