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Though the calendar says March and yesterday marked the first day of spring, winter isn’t quite ready to loosen its grip on the Midwest. Feeling a bit of cabin fever (or maybe I actually had a fever?), I was inspired by vintage images of sunny days and vinyl records.

With my hair in a casual top knot (no sock bun needed for this mop!) and the coziest sweater I could find, I dug into my mom’s killer record collection in search of good tunes and old friends. And by killer collection, I mean my mom has more than 20 Bob Dylan records, Jefferson Airplane, a handful Led Zeppelin, two Grateful Dead, a few from the Rolling Stones, Michael Jackson and… well, you get the drift.

Sifting through a personal record collection is so much more inviting than hitting a record store. I love the raw, tattered edges and dusty scent. I love seeing my mom’s maiden name next to dates scribbled in her charmingly imperfect handwriting on the sleeve. I love knowing that these all, someday, will make the transition into my own home. (I guess you’ll have to visit me if you want to take a listen, mom.)

With sun streaming through our tightly shut windows, I slipped “The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan” onto the turntable and waited for the needle to catch the groove. My cat was digging it, too.


See more amazing photos and read about vinyl record collectors at Dust & Groove — one of the websites I’ve come across on every list of best record blogs.

Photos by Michael Ciuni.