Phillumenist. That’s what you call someone who collects matchbooks. Phillumeny comes from the Greek words meaning “lover of light.” Obviously, it refers literally to the act of lighting the matches, but I suggest a second meaning: bringing light to memories and history.
In the “Cambridge Memories” Facebook group I’m a member of, locals post photos of their mementoes of our city, usually personal things they retained from their life here. Recently, a few folks have been on a spree of posting their stuff, and that made me want to share some of my collectibles with you.
I was going to post photos of random things I’ve acquired over the seven years of my residency, but then I decided to restrict this particular column to my small matchbook collection. Almost all of them came from places that no longer exist, which makes them that much more interesting as relics.
People collect matchbooks for many of the same reasons others collect postcards, stamps, or old advertising signs: they’re small, cheap, and often capture a snapshot of a particular place and time.
Before smartphones and social media, people picked up matchbooks as souvenirs from places they visited. A matchbook from a long-gone restaurant, hotel, or other business can be among the few surviving artifacts from that establishment, making them historical treasures.
A defunct restaurant may have left behind no website, no menus, and few photographs, but someone may still have a matchbook from the place in a drawer. Those tiny paper covers can become surprisingly valuable clues about a community’s past.
Collecting matchbooks and matchboxes offers a fascinating dive into history, design, and culture. These small, often overlooked objects encapsulate the advertising trends and societal shifts of their era, and they can be miniature time capsules of art and history. But, even more important than that, matchbooks can evoke vivid memories and warm feelings in people with personal connections to those things advertised.
