While I do think the Ebay culture is largely responsible for ushering in an obsession with tangible—and indeed often prohibitively expensive—nostalgia, we are now part of an era in which emotional comfort is well sought after in an otherwise unpredictable and often disappointing world.

Fried chicken and waffles are good, and so is a large slice of pie, whether pizza or banana cream.

But better still is something that will last considerably longer than the consequent flatulence of comfort food, and in the case of my generation, I am talking about everything from Hutch BMX bikes to Colecovision video game consoles to the original Masters of the Universe and Star Wars action figures (presently on Ebay: a 1979 Star Wars action figure case with a Buy It Now price of $199.99; but good luck finding a mint original Millenium Falcon, as pictured below).

Since the large-margin, proof-positive profit of Ebay has been demonstrated time and again, online stores that capitalize on nostalgic goods have proliferated to the extent that one can find nearly any item for sale that reigned supreme in the halcyon days of childhood. Antique stores, too, have come to reflect our (Gen X, Y etc.) once seemingly ageless souls and deal increasingly in the items that elicit the nostalgic feelings that take the seemingly out of ageless and pique our simple fascinations once again.

When browsing some of these antique shops on Main Street in Ventura, against my better judgment (what remains, anyway) I walked away with this totally rad Swatch phone that does not ring, does not always hang up without emitting dial-tone monotony, but it does function for making calls, and it sits retro cool on the corner of my desk that was once a Spartan example of tasteful minimalism—at risk, now, of garish clutter on a superficial level, while possibly revealing some rather Freudian sentiments of something unresolved on another.  Change subject, quickly.

Anyway, if one is a shrewd enough buyer and adept enough at restoration, the nostalgic game can be as profitable is it is personally fulfilling. My 1985 BMX time-capsule project, for instance, was built a few years ago at the cost of roughly nine-hundred dollars, which sounds like a lot, to be sure, but I ended up letting go of what was admittedly a labor of love rather than a pine for a profit approximately one year ago for two-thousand dollars. Some guy from Manhattan, roughly my age (34 or, um, less), just had to have the bike, and he outbid many others to finally own the ’80s BMX bike in all its pink and candy blue glory (pictured below).

But whether times are good or bad, the feeling of nostalgia transpires into a want, which translates into an emotional buy, which—as far as I can tell—is virtually recession-proof.