The first Walkman weighed in at a solid 390 grams (plus 50 grams for the headphones). With its strong square lines and metallic blue finish, it was almost as streamlined as today's surge protectors. To emphasize its portability, Morito reportedly had a shirt custom-tailored with an oversized chest pocket in which to carry the 3.5 x 5.5 x 1.25 inch device.
Now, of course, any high-tech gadget that's not tiny enough to pose as a choking hazard to small children is not truly sexy. In 1979, stuffing a high-fidelity stereo into a shirt pocket — even a deviously engineered shirt pocket — constituted a miracle of sorts. At a time when microcomputers still appealed mainly to hardcore spreadsheet fetishists, the Walkman was the sexiest piece of personal electronics ever devised. It was a piece of the future you could hold in your hand.
Indeed, all that an LED watch could do was help you see the time in movie theaters, while the pocket calculator only helped you get bored with math faster. In contrast, the Walkman wasn't just a machine, something you used pragmatically, intermittently. The Walkman gave you your own personal soundtrack with which to dramatize your life. It was your faithful companion, an anthropomorphized buddy/servant who motivated you, palliated you, and simply kept you company throughout the day. It was your cassette pet.
Greg Beato, "The Soundtrack to Your Life: Celebrating 30 years of the Sony Walkman", Reason Online, 2009-06-23
Posted by Nicholas at June 23, 2009 12:40 PM
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