Once upon a time in the '70s,

there were these odd, yet friendly little places called "headshops". And in these headshops were many wonderful things designed for "heads". Generally, there were far more items for sale than I can remember, but if people used it, they carried it....

The '70s headshops were great; it was like having a personal store. Of course, they were scattered across the city, and only a few existed, so you had to travel a bit. I was always lucky enough to live in a neighborhood fairly close to a headshop. My best friend and I always looked forward to going to it. In 1971, I remember a place called the Psychedelic Supermarket. This was a place where you could buy tie-dyed clothing and other hippie paraphernalia. It's reputation was gargantuan.You could see at least one Volkswagen bug or bus covered in daisies and peace signs parked out front.

Establishment?

Little did we realize then that when we were buying posters, albums, and incense, or even a pack of Zig-Zags, that we were contributing to the capitalist machine of "the establishment." Disguised as longhairs, many of us either hadn't a clue, or refused to believe that they were people in business. They were the very capitalists that many of the songs we so loved slammed. Ah, such rebellion, such channeling of what felt like positive fuel into all the wrong tanks. What growing up we still had left to do.

Remember Gilbert Shelton and those Fabulous Furry Freak Brothers? These comics were the funniest things since Mad Magazine. Fat Freddy, Freewheeling' Franklin, and Phineas Freak all trekked about through one zany misadventure after another. And who was more lovable than Fat Freddy's Cat?

Of course, the '70s kicked off an entire campaign of hippie comix, some incredibly popular, and some just floundered, but none had the majesty and absolute royalty of the Fabulous Furry Freak Brothers! Before the days of coffee table books, these comics were coffee table friendly, and proudly displayed.

Laquered Prints & More

I can remember these astonishing prints mounted on dark driftwood, cedar, or other hand-carved pieces of wood and covered with a transluscent varnish.
Fantasy prints were popular, like unicorns, as were faith-based works that portrayed Jesus, or the ever-popular Hare Krishna movement. Many also featured caucasian-like Indian (Native American) women, and sometimes M.C. Escher prints.

Naturally they were expensive, especially when embedded and glossed into furniture like coffee, or end tables. I also remember the wild craze over tapestries; like posters, tapestries were everywhere. Some could be picked up for just a dollar or more.

The sublime of headshops

Headshops had a magnificent ambiance, and quite an array of hippie paraphernalia. Under glass counters was a wide variety of who-needs-what, from incense, rolling papers, pipes, carburetors, roach clips, jewelry, stash containers and more. "Stash containers" were yet another thing to drain money out of the stoners. The really cool, midnight blue plastic boxes were my favorites, and I loved to just set them in the window for the light to shine through. Remember the clever little invention known as the "Marygin?" It borrowed its moniker from the cotton gin, and came in a variety of transparent plastic colors. The Marygin was a little hand crank, plastic box that separated seeds and stems from the green. They were not very effective though, and many went back to the old steel mesh spaghetti strainers.

Black Light Rooms

Black light rooms were the biggest draw for me when it came to visiting headshops. Behind a curtain of tye-dye, or perhaps strands of beads, was the purple glow of an other-worldly gallery. The posters were alive with color, neon in appearance, and completely captivating.

With the music being piped in, I envisioned one, or all of those posters lining the walls of my room. Often, I painted my own black light posters and would get inspiration in these galleries.