Call us nostalgic, but there’s something about vintage caravans that just makes us want to hit the open road. And if you’re anything like us, you’ll probably lose your shagpile-carpet-covered mind over these old brochures from the German caravan museum.
Produced between the 1930s and the late ’70s, they’re a great reminder that the word kitsch is originally German. In one shot, shepherds canoodle in the midst of their flock while a “modern” gent leans against his boxy mobile home. In another, busy wallpapers, carpets, upholstering and tablecloths compete for your admiration in a painstakingly constructed casual dining scene. For the most part, though, it's all fancy frosted light fittings, space-age-y toilets, frilled curtains and enough trumpet appearances to make you think that holiday trumpeting must have been a real thing for Germans back in the day.
The gaudy art direction is impeccable, but the real heroes of the shots have to be the characters inhabiting each scene. You’ve got a man with a handlebar moustache candidly feeding a bird at his kitchenette window, a father and son constructing a model ship to illustrate how roomy their dining space is, a few cheeky shower scenes, and – our favourite – a maestro sawing away at a violin on the couch while a host of other instruments (including another trumpet) wait to be played.
I guess what we’re trying to say is: we want to buy a caravan. And maybe take up the trumpet?