Here’s a great way to relive some of the weirdest nights in your life, when a pair of Chuck Taylors, the duct-tape of apparel, functioned as a pillow (H.O.R.D.E. Festival ’95, the unscheduled 36-hour layover at a Kiev train station, the first and last time you gave Burning Man a go, etc.). Perpetual Kid, the curators of all sorts of relics from your misspent youth, have you covered.

Just don’t anticipate any blockbuster, REM-type sleep—calling this thing a pillow is sort of like calling Chuck Taylors basketball shoes.

—C.B.S.

CONTRIBUTORS

  • C. Brian Smith