Last year, I did some experimenting with secondhand film cameras. Nothing too fancy; I didn't want to spend much, and I didn't want to carry more batteries or chargers than I already do. One was a plastic 110 with absolutely no bells or whistles, and I got two fully manual half-frames, only one of which worked. I took both working cameras to Japan, where I stayed in five prefectures across two islands and attended two Katori Shingo concerts. The working half-frame also went with me and a roll of Lomochrome Purple to visit family in California.
This was all great fun, but I have little to show from it because I have to get all that developed now.
Yay film.
Thankfully, I got a fourth camera in 2025:
The Cinnamocam 9000, for lack of other name, appears to be one of many (MANY) of the same digital cameras sold for children by many (MANY) different brands. The plastic shell comes in a few variants, including a more SLR-like shape and a camcorder, but the real difference is in the silicone cover, which can feature all manners of animals and characters. In this case, Cinnamoroll. Usually, I avoid IP tie-ins and I'm not big on Sanrio, but this was somehow the cheapest one I found. I don't dislike Cinnamoroll, though, and he always makes me laugh a little when I remember that time Japanese Twitter users decided to bully him for no reason. All of these cameras are united by the same tiny lens, the same minuscule sensor, and the same goofy software. It's even got games.
The plastic shell says Accutime Watch Corp., which led me to some equally questionable children's smart watches.
The camera can take up to 48 megapixel photos, but you might as well set it to 1 MP and get more photos at the exact same image quality. It takes a mini SD card, but only up to 8 gigabytes or so; this wasn't mentioned in the manual, so the Cinnamocam ended up with a 4 GB card through a series of trial and error. At least my MP3 player now has 32 GB more capacity now.
The Cinnamocam was, however, only $25. I'm sure the unbranded versions go on sale for less, so if all you want is a functional camera for a small child, it's not a bad deal. The audio can only be turned down, not off, so you might want to establish some rules before taking it on a train or airplane, but it should keep them from asking to borrow your phone at other times. It could be a nice introduction to photography and it'd provide a little kid-appropriate independence, allowing them to record what they want to remember rather than relying on adults to take all the photos and videos.
But I'm no child! I'm an adult and a serious photographer! [citation needed] What use could I have for a horrible little kids' camera?
Well, I've been playing around with it, and it's got its charms. All of the following photos are unedited outside of resizing and rotation:
The low resolution and high contrast gives the photos an almost impressionistic quality. Detailed areas turn into swirls of color and edges become soft, making shots more dreamlike than they look when I take them on my main camera.
The Cinnamocam was the only camera (aside from my phone) that I brought to a farm's fall event because I didn't want to take my bulky main camera. It's since become a standard thing I stick in my bag or pocket before I go out.
The slow shutter speed and lack of zoom (and normal camera features in general) mean that my usual subjects, animals, are off the table, forcing me to look for photos elsewhere.
While each photo individually is generally too low-resolution to properly stand on its own, they work great together. The white balance is stubborn and leans warm, keeping the colors visually cohesive even if they were taken on different days.
Despite being low-quality digital images, it lacks the oversharpening and magenta outlines characteristic of early digital cameras. The warmth combined with the deep shadows is instead more reminiscent of consumer grade ISO 200 35 mm film stocks.
Each montage feels like a fond memory. In Japanese, these photos might be described as エモい (emoi), a slang term derived from "emotional" but it often carries a sense of nostalgia. It's frequently associated with Heisei retro (i.e. 1990s) aesthetics, namely instant film and disposable cameras, but early point-and-shoot digital cameras do fall into the same time period. I've seen some demand for late 00s point-and-shoot digital cameras in the US as an alternative to smart phone reliance, but I haven't seen much fondness for this type of early flip phone-quality photography outside of toy camera and lo-fi photography circles.
While I like the results I've gotten, this isn't a vintage camera, it's just kinda bad. I imagine most people seeking an early digital camera look would be happier with an actual early digital camera or even an old camera phone. And those who just want a pocket-sized digital camera for day-to-day snaps don't need to sacrifice quality, as digital point-and-shoots got pretty decent from the mid-00s. It'd do some good to keep actual old cameras out of landfills and off of dusty shelves. And if what you want is a Cinnamoroll camera? Then there are better-looking Cinnamoroll cameras out there too.
I wanted to end with a song that, if not エモい, is definitely Heisei retro. It seems fitting that the mid-90s to early-00s music that's now called "Heisei retro" was so often accompanied by music videos full of Super 8 mm film clips meant to look like casual home videos. Another song I considered, from the early 90s, had its music video filmed in black and white. It makes you wonder what technology from today will be sought out for its dated aesthetics in 20-30 years. My money is on text-to-voice and the Snapchat/TikTok vertical video format. Music videos in the 2040s are going to be slivers with buttons on one side and hearts floating up the other.
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