@tindertisements postcards

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At the start of 2024, I wrote about three creative projects I wanted to work on throughout the year: I wanted to make a candle from the leftover wax of bunch of other candles of the same scent, I wanted to finish transcribing a 101-year-old diary I found a few years ago at a local vintage mall, and I wanted to do something fun with vintage photos I’ve been buying at various vintage stores and stalls and malls around town over the last several years.

I made the candle (and did not enjoy it), I finished transcribing the diary (and absolutely loved it, as well as all the rabbit holes and field trips the project took me on along the way), and, in a true Christmas miracle, I’ve done something fun with the vintage photos I’ve been buying at various vintage stores and stalls and malls around town over the last several years. I present to you, the inaugural (and perhaps only-ever) set of @tindertisements postcards.

A stack of linen postcards sit face up in an open shipping box. Only the top postcard is fully visible. It features a digitized black and white vintage photo of a man dressed in a suit and snappy shoes. His jacket is unbuttoned. One hand is in a trouser pocket, the other on his hip. His head is slightly cocked to one side and he's smiling.

On the front of each postcard, a digitized vintage photo. On the back, a short dating app bio—or portion of one—that I thought was fun and/or funny and/or clever. Most bios are exactly as I found them; some have been lightly edited for capitalization and punctuation.

The back of the postcard in the photo above. In the top left corner it reads, "Jay, 31. Dog dad, no roommates, lavender slut."

This project started almost four years ago on Instagram. I named it @tindertisements—the vast majority of the bios are from Tinder, and dating app profiles are the modern iteration of the hundreds-of-years-old personal advertisement. The Instagram approach quickly fizzled out; I don’t spend a lot of time on the platform, and I wanted to do something with this project that I could hold in my hands. I’m a big fan of both snail mail and quality paper-crafted goods (and also one-of-a-kind items). Postcards just made sense.

A grid of 18 vertical postcards. All feature a digitized black and white photo of a white man.

A closer look at a few of the pairings:

On the left, the front of the postcard: a buff, shirtless man stands on a beach, his hands at his side. Hotels and palm trees are in the background. On the right, the back of the postcard: in the top left corner it reads, "Brett, 27. Send me drunk texts at 2 am so I know it's real."
Brett, 27. Send me drunk texts at 2 am so I know it’s real.
On the left, the front of the postcard: a woman in a long-sleeved dress stands near a tree. A body of water and bushes are behind her. One arm is up on the tree, the other is against her body. On the right, the back of the postcard: in the top left it reads, "Katya, 28. My wife says I should fuck more goth boys."
Katya, 28. My wife says I should fuck more goth boys.
On the left, the front of the postcard: a man wearing a suit, an overcoat, and a big smile stands against a building. On the right, the back of the postcard: in the top left it reads, "Jonathan, 26. Recently on new anti-depressants so we both have the pleasure of meeting the new me!"
Jonathan, 26. Recently on new anti-depressants so we both have the pleasure of meeting the new me!
On the top, the front of the postcard: a woman stands in front of what appears to be a church. She's in a dark long-sleeved dress and wearing a fancy hat with a large brim. She holds a clutch at her chest. On the bottom, the back of the postcard: in the top left it reads, "Sarah, 39. I think many things can be improved with a spreadsheet."
Sarah, 39. I think many things can be improved with a spreadsheet.
On the top, the front of the postcard: A man stands dressed in casual (for the day) clothes, his hands clasped behind him. He's smiling. Behind him, structures that appear to be camping cabins. On the bottom, the back of the postcard: in the top left it reads, "Hayden, 31. I'm into poetry and struggle to understand art theory. Please don't sit on my bed with your outside clothes."
Hayden, 31. I’m into poetry and struggle to understand art theory. Please don’t sit on my bed with your outside clothes.

While I haven’t counted how many bios and photos I have in my collection, I’m pretty certain I have at least 100 of each. Part of my collection lives in an old cigar box (another vintage mall find) on one of my bookshelves.

A vintage cigar box filled with 3x5 cards and vintage photos.

Not all of the photos and bios are paired. Pairing old photos of people from many decades ago with contemporary names and personalities and matching the ages as best you can is a humbling art that takes a ton of time and patience and practice to get good at (I’m still learning). (It’s also quite challenging, it turns out, to find vintage photos of men wearing something other than a military uniform, of people in poses other than standing straight in front of the camera or sat in portrait mode, and of people who aren’t white.) Of the photos and bios that are paired, not all of them became postcards—many of the photos simply aren’t the right dimension. Many more of the not-yet-paired photos will suffer the same fate for the same sad reason. RIP.

There are 33 postcards in the set. I ordered two sets. In one set, the photos are as they were scanned in, have the same font size and placement on the back of every postcard in the set, and are all linen postcards. With the other set, I played around with different levels of contrast with the photos, different font sizes and placements on the back (which you can see in the five examples above), and different paper finishes (matte, pearl, etc.). I made a spreadsheet to keep track of all the different combinations so if I end up ordering any given postcard again, I can make sure I’m using the contrast level, font size and placement, and paper finish that I like best.

Many of these postcards became gifts. I sent a chonky stack of them to my friend and former roommate, who’s been along for the ride since the very start of this project (we lived together during the first year of this project—she joined me on several of my photo-hunting shopping trips and still helps me decide on pairings I’m stuck on, and she’s who’s sent me the glass I used for the candle I made). Like me, she also loves snail mail, quality paper-crafted goods, and one-of-a-kind items. I know she’ll enjoy sending these postcards to folks in her life (or saving them for herself). A few more will go to other faraway friends to whom I’ve sent a few pieces of random happy mail throughout the year each year since the start of the pandemic. The rest will continue to hangout at home with me and their siblings—my greeting card collection—until I have reason to send or gift them.

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This project was hugely inspired by Minor Phrases, an old Tumblr project that has also found a home on Instagram, and much of Sophie Calle‘s work, especially her 2020 piece On the Hunt (an archived version of the original article on the piece, which features more images of the actual work, is here).

Additional related reading: 15 amazing personal ads from the ’90s, a Longreads essay on the evolution (through the mid-2010s) of the personal ad, and one editor’s favorite London Review of Books’ personal ads.

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