Stay High and Dry With These Ridiculous Gadgets

by:   |   Mar 2 2015

High Times wasn’t just a manual for life and a beacon of sleaze in the 1970s publishing world: it actually had some pretty spectacular fashion pieces. Exhibit A: this spread featuring custom-made umbrellas** that all featured a lil’ something extra in their handles, like hidden daggers and compartments for stashing your drugs.

Umbrella Caper 1

“It’s been all day from Bogota to New York and you’ve been stacked up over Kennedy for two hours. Finally you set down in a dense fog and slip through Customs like a bar of soap in a wet fist. Walking to the taxi, there’s a slight drizzle…romantic…but deadly. The skycap shleps your stash while you open your innocent-looking umbrella to shut out the cold…and the heat.”

So essentially, you hand your suitcases to the dudes outside JFK, hop into an Uber, and start huffing all the coke in your umbrella like you’re at Elton John’s annual key party. Sounds like a pretty chill way to recuperate after you trudge off a JetBlue flight, holding a weathered copy of Marie Claire and a half-eaten bag of mini pretzels. And you pass through customs “like a bar of soap in a wet fist”? Call the New Yorker, because this prose is POPPIN’, y’all!

Umbrella Caper2

“The rain in Spain won’t stain her mary jane, thanks her Chinese-style parasol with weighted handle for stick fighting.” Wait, are we using the term “stick fighting” instead of “smoking a joint” now? We’re on board, but it may take a while to get some traction on this.

Umbrella Caper 3

“Nosy narcs will change their minds, if they have any left, after they sustain a cranial impact equal to eight gs from the flexible metal blackjack on this hand-carved wooden handle.” Ooookeeee, so we’re going to beat up a cop? Does this umbrella come with a bail money and a competent public defender?

“She’ll be high and dry when she uncorks…to reveal an ounce of Peruvian Parched. See? You do need a weatherman to know which way the snow blows.” Not to sound like an aforementioned narc (and therefore get beaten tha fuck up with a hard-carved umbrella), but what the hell is Peruvian Parched? Coke? And just how many kilos can this umbrella hold? Enough to keep Studio 54 happy for a night?

We’re feeling super embarrassed by our shitty CVS nylon umbrella right about now…

**The More You Know**: All these umbrellas were apparently custom-made by Uncle Sam’s Umbrellas on West 57th St in NYC. Before it closed in 2000 (after staying open for a whopping 134 years), it sold umbrellas to Franklin Delano Roosevelt, Charlie Chaplin, and John Steinbeck.

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