I have been in the market for a locking flap card box recently, the reason isn’t important. But tracking down such a prop has been more trouble than I was anticipating. That isn’t to say I couldn’t find any, but the props I saw came in two varieties. The choices were the cheap plastic non-locking card boxes you find in cheap magic kits, or handcrafted artisan wooden boxes. It struck me as odd that the only options were barely functional kids toys and luxury boxes for what I can only assume are the top of the line flap box workers making money hand over fist with their ability to switch two playing cards with nothing more than a wooden box presumably carved from the last Sigillaria tree.

I have no great grandstanding, no real observations on consumerism in the magic community. But after much searching what I did have was the desire to wrap the magic community in a bindle of flash paper, burn it to the ground, and do a salt pour over the ashes so nothing would grow again out of sheer annoyance.

Magic seems to have the same lust for decadence as the Roman Empire. Who are these people looking for luxurious locking flap card boxes made out of the remains of the missing Entwives? Who are these people requesting peek wallets made from the hide of now extinct alpacas? Who is clamoring for cups spun in the heart of a dying star? Obviously there is nothing wrong with wanting nice looking props, but it does make me wonder how often these decadent props are purchased and later abandoned, a frivolous waste.

I know I am guilty of the same. I recognize my own hypocrisy. I’ve purchased a relatively nice set of cups for the cups and balls and have purchased magic wallets abound with functions. But over time the cups have fallen out of my repertoire and I have become disillusioned with the wide world of magic wallets. The shift away from these things was more consistent with who I am. As much as I would like to pretend I have an ounce of regality, a coffee cup in my hands is more congruent with my style than a copper cup and the magic wallets often mess with my personal aesthetics, a rather jarring contrast from the audience’s point of view. Now they sit where all magic toys go to die, in the mass grave of a drawer. And I’m sure that a locking flap card box will be joining them soon.

And Nero plays his fiddle and Rome burns.

That is of course not to say that these more elegant props do not have their place. Dr. Stanley Jaks was known to use a plethora of regal props made of fine woods and ivory in his act, though in this day and age I do have to wonder if the more bourgeois persona isn’t a bit alienating, depending on your audience. Perhaps if Dr. Jaks was performing today, his table magic would consist of being served with a nice Chianti. Be safe out there, Steve Cohen.

There is no legitimate complaint here, just someone ranting about magic props. But perhaps it is worth reflecting on if we really need to spend exorbitant amounts next time we are buying props. Maybe the prop won’t fit your style even if it is made from copper, covered in the skin of a baby lamb, and baptized by the Pope himself. Perhaps it isn’t a routine that will stick with you, is this really something you will be doing? What kind of message is such a prop going to convey to the audience, and is that the message we are trying to get across?

Every junk drawer has its capacity, so maybe we should be a bit discerning with what we purchase.

Stay tuned to the blog for the big announcement of my new product, color sticks carved from the wood of the True Cross.