Ascending the "Balcony of the Alps": A Vintage Voyage to Brunate, Lake Como

 There is a specific kind of magic found in the tactile grain of a vintage postcard. For those of us who collect these "postal time machines," a card isn't just a piece of cardstock; it’s a portal. Today, I’m thrilled to share a recent addition to my collection: a stunning monochrome multi-view postcard titled "Saluti da Brunate (Como)."

This card captures the essence of early 20th-century Italian tourism, focusing on the steep slopes of Brunate—a village famously known as the Balcone sulle Alpi (Balcony of the Alps) for its breathtaking panoramic views.

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Postcard of Brunate and the Como-Brunate Funicular, Italy

Estimating the Era: A 1930s Time Capsule

When dating a postcard without a postmark, we have to play detective. Looking at the design and production markers on this piece, we can narrow down its origin with surprising accuracy.

• The Publisher (Cecami): The back of the card features the distinctive oval logo of Cecami (Stabilimento Grafico Cesare Capello). This Milanese powerhouse was founded in 1908, but the specific "Cecami" branding and the typography of the "Ediz. A. Preda - Milano" credit line are hallmarks of the mid-to-late 1930s.

• The Funicular Style: The left-hand image shows the famous Como-Brunate funicular. Notice the boxy, elegant design of the carriages. The funicular underwent a significant refurbishment in 1934/1935, and the cars shown here match the aesthetic of that pre-war era perfectly.

• Print Quality: The card uses a high-quality phototype process, common in Italy during the interwar period before the mass-market shift to glossier, saturated colour lithography in the 1950s.

Estimated Date: Circa 1935–1939.

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A Tale of Three Views

This "triple vignette" design was a popular way for tourists to show off the full experience of their trip in one go.

1. The Engineering Marvel: The Funicular

The dominant image on the left features the funicular railway. Opened in 1894, this engineering feat transitioned from steam to electricity in 1911. By the time this photo was taken in the late 1930s, it was the height of luxury for Milanese elites escaping the summer heat. The image captures two cars passing on the steep 55% incline—a sight that remains largely unchanged for travellers today.

2. The Village on the Hill

The top-right insert offers a glimpse of the Brunate hillside. You can see the dense clusters of villas and hotels that began to sprout up as the village became a premier holiday destination. The architecture visible is a mix of traditional alpine style and the ornate Stile Liberty (Italian Art Nouveau) that Lake Como is famous for.

3. The Grand Panorama

The bottom-right view provides the "money shot": the view from Brunate looking down onto the city of Como and the western arm of the lake. In the distance, the silhouette of the mountains guards the water. Even in black and white, the scale of the landscape is palpable.

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Why This Card Matters to My Collection

What I love most about this specific card is its pristine, unposted condition. While I adore reading the frantic scribbles of travellers from 90 years ago, an unposted card allows us to appreciate the graphic design as the artist intended.

The vertical divider on the reverse, the elegant "Ediz. A. Preda" text, and the minimalist address lines represent an era of "slow travel." Sending a card like this wasn't just a quick check-in; it was a curated gift of art sent across borders.

Tips for Collectors: Identifying Cecami Cards

If you’re hunting for Italian vintage cards, keep an eye out for that "Cecami" logo. Cesare Capello’s company was known for its superior photographic clarity.

• Check the back: Early cards (pre-1905) have undivided backs.

• Look for the logo: The oval "Cecami" mark generally points to the 1930s through the 1950s.

• Condition: Italian cards from this era often suffer from "foxing" (brown spotting) due to the humidity of the lake regions, but this example has held up remarkably well!

The Gilded Age of Ashford: Unveiling the "Royal Cinema de Luxe" Postcard

 There is a specific kind of magic found in the tactile grain of an old postcard. As a collector, I’ve spent years hunting through flea markets and online archives, but few pieces capture the transition from the Victorian era to the age of mass entertainment as elegantly as this latest addition to my collection: The Royal Cinema in Ashford, Kent.

This postcard, part of "The Nevitsky Collection" under the "Lost Empires and Picture Palaces" series (No. 1), isn't just a piece of cardstock; it is a portal to a time when going to the "flicks" was a grand, formal event.

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Royal Cinema, Ashford, Kent

An Architectural Gem in the Heart of Kent

Looking at the front of the postcard, the first thing that strikes you is the building's imposing façade. The Royal Cinema de Luxe, as the marquee proudly proclaims, was a far cry from the utilitarian multiplexes we visit today.

Located on Bank Street in Ashford, this building originally opened its doors in the early 20th century. The architecture captured here shows a fascinating blend of styles. The Dutch-style gabled roofline gives it a regal, almost civic importance, while the arched windows and symmetrical pilasters suggest a classical influence.

If you look closely at the image, you can see the staff standing outside—men in formal caps and suits, looking every bit like the guardians of a high-society establishment. To their right, children linger near the entrance, perhaps captivated by the posters for "Living Pictures." In an era before television and the internet, these walls held the only window to the wider world.

The "Living Pictures" and the Allure of the Screen

The marquee on the postcard features the words "Living Pictures" and "Cinema De Luxe." The term "Living Pictures" (or Tableaux Vivants) was often used in the early days of cinematography to describe the transition from static photography to moving film.

In the early 1910s and 20s, a trip to the Royal Cinema was an immersive experience. You weren't just watching a film; you were accompanied by a live pianist or even a small orchestra that provided the "soundtrack" to the silent reels. The posters visible in the scan hint at the adventurous serials and melodramas that would have drawn crowds from across the Kentish countryside.

Behind the Card: The Nevitsky Collection

The reverse of the postcard reveals its pedigree. It belongs to The Nevitsky Collection, published by Piccadilly Plaza Postcards. For collectors of "Cinema-tiana," this series is highly regarded for its focus on the "Lost Empires"—those grand theaters and music halls that have since been demolished or repurposed.

The serial number A676X and the designation of No. 1 suggest this was a flagship entry in the set. Finding a clean, unposted version of this card is a treat; the lack of a postmark or handwritten message allows us to appreciate the pristine typography and the quality of the sepia-toned print, which has aged into a beautiful, warm biscuit hue.

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The Evolution of the Royal Cinema

While this postcard freezes the Royal Cinema in its prime, history moved on. Like many "Picture Palaces" of its era, the building underwent several transformations:

• The Silent Era: As seen here, it was the pinnacle of local entertainment.

• The "Talkies": The cinema would have had to undergo significant acoustic renovations when sound came to film in the late 1920s.

• The Bingo Era: Like many grand British cinemas, the mid-20th century saw a decline in ticket sales due to the rise of TV, leading many venues to be converted into Bingo Halls.

• The Modern Day: Today, while the "Royal" name lives on in various forms in Ashford's history, the specific grandeur captured in this postcard remains a ghost of Bank Street, reminding us of a time when the building itself was as much a star as the actors on the screen.

Why We Collect "Lost Empires"

People often ask why I collect these specific glimpses of the past. To me, this postcard is a reminder of the social fabric of Kent. The Royal Cinema was a meeting place, a site for first dates, and a source of news during global conflicts.

When you hold this card, you aren't just looking at a building; you're looking at the collective memories of thousands of Ashford residents. It’s a tribute to the architects who believed that even a small market town deserved a "Picture Palace" of its own.

Coastal Nostalgia: Uncovering the Vintage Charm of Lydstep Haven

 There is a specific kind of magic found in the tactile surface of a vintage postcard. It’s a portal to a specific moment in time—a "wish you were here" captured in ink and lithograph. In my collection, a recent standout is this beautiful view of Lydstep Haven, a limestone-shrouded gem nestled on the Pembrokeshire coast of Wales.

Framed by the rugged silhouette of overhanging oak branches, the image looks out across the turquoise waters of the Bristol Channel toward the dramatic limestone cliffs that define this stretch of the Pembrokeshire Coast National Park. To look at this card is to feel the salt air of a mid-century British summer.

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Dating the Card: A Philatelic Detective Story

One of the joys of postcard collecting is "reading" the back of the card to determine its age. While this specimen was never mailed (meaning we don’t have a postmark date), the physical clues speak volumes.

The "Post Office Preferred" Logo The most telling detail is the "Post Office Preferred" (POP) symbol in the stamp box. This logo, featuring an envelope within a square, was introduced by the British General Post Office (GPO) in 1968. It was part of a campaign to standardize envelope and card sizes to accommodate new automated sorting machines.

The Printing Style and Serial Number The front of the card features the high-saturation, slightly grainy colour palette typical of Photo-Precision Ltd. or similar large-scale British printers of the era. The serial number PT23805 on the reverse is a classic identifier for cards produced in the late 1960s to mid-1970s.

The Verdict: Given the typeface and the specific "Post Office Preferred" branding, this postcard likely dates from between 1969 and 1974. It represents the golden era of the British seaside holiday, just before cheap Mediterranean air travel became the norm.

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The View: Lydstep Haven’s Rugged Majesty

The photograph captures the eastern end of the bay, dominated by the towering limestone stack known as the Proud Giltar. In the foreground, we see a couple standing on the grassy verge, a pair of green canvas deckchairs nearby. It’s a scene of quiet contemplation that feels worlds away from the bustling modern caravan parks that now overlook parts of the haven.

Lydstep Haven is famous for its caverns and blowholes. At low tide, the base of those very cliffs seen in the postcard reveals sea caves that have been carved out over millennia by the Atlantic swell. For the traveller of the 1970s, Lydstep offered a sense of "wild Wales"—a place where you could find a secluded spot beneath the cliffs and feel like the first person to discover the bay.

Why Lydstep Haven Remains a Must-Visit

If you were to stand in the same spot today where this photographer stood fifty years ago, much of the natural majesty remains unchanged. Pembrokeshire is protected by National Park status, ensuring that the dramatic profile of the cliffs stays as pristine as it appears on this card.

1. The Coastal Path: The Pembrokeshire Coast Path runs right through Lydstep. It offers some of the most spectacular hiking in the UK, with the "limestone corridor" between Lydstep and Tenby being a particular highlight.

2. Wildlife: The cliffs shown in the card are a haven for razorbills, guillemots, and even the occasional peregrine falcon.

3. The History: Nearby, you can find the ruins of a medieval palace (Lydstep Old Palace), adding a layer of historical mystery to the natural beauty.

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The Art of the Postcard

There is something deeply intentional about the composition of this card. The photographer used a classic "natural frame" technique, using the dark, textured branches of a tree to draw the viewer’s eye toward the brightly lit cliffs and the sea. This wasn't just a snapshot; it was a carefully constructed piece of travel marketing designed to sell the dream of the Great British Summer.

In an age of instant Instagram uploads, holding this physical artifact reminds us of a slower pace of communication. In the 1970s, you would buy this card at a local village shop, spend an evening writing about the "lovely weather" and "biting cold sea," and drop it in a red pillar box, knowing it might not reach its destination until after you had returned home.

Preserving the Past

As a collector, I often wonder about the people in the photograph. Are they still around? Do they remember that specific afternoon by the cliffs? Postcards are more than just stationery; they are fragments of social history. They document how we dressed (the lady’s red trousers are a classic 70s touch), how we spent our leisure time, and how we viewed the landscape.

Lydstep Haven continues to be a destination for those seeking beauty and tranquillity. While the deckchairs might be plastic now instead of canvas, and the cameras are digital instead of film, the draw of the limestone cliffs and the blue horizon remains eternal.