For many who came of age in the United States during the mid-to-late 20th century, the plastic lanyard keychains woven at summer camp, after-school programs, or scout gatherings evoke a deep sense of nostalgia. Known colloquially as “gimp,” these colorful, plastic craft strips—also referred to as boondoggle, scoubidou, or rexlace—were staples of youth crafting culture from the 1950s through the 1980s. With bright colors, bold textures, and intricate hand-braided patterns, gimp projects embodied a hands-on rite of passage. While often dismissed as kitschy or juvenile, these items now occupy a peculiar space in the world of vintage collectibles, blending childhood memory, mid-century material history, and grassroots American folk art. The question remains: is summer-camp lanyard gimp simply sentimental ephemera, or does it deserve a place among serious collectible craft objects?
Gimp’s origins trace back to earlier European craft traditions, where woven cords were used for decorative and practical purposes. However, the distinctly plastic version that became iconic in mid-century America emerged after World War II, during a period of rapid expansion in the use of synthetic materials for consumer goods. Polyvinyl chloride (PVC), an inexpensive and flexible plastic, proved ideal for craft lacing. American companies such as Whiting & Davis and later Pepperell Braiding Company produced spools of gimp under various brand names in neon, metallic, translucent, and glow-in-the-dark varieties, marketing them for children’s crafts and camp activities. The plastic lace was malleable, durable, and came in eye-catching colors that mirrored the vibrant optimism of postwar consumer culture.
The aesthetic of lanyard gimp projects is unmistakably rooted in the playful, geometric exuberance of the mid-century era. Box stitch, barrel stitch, cobra stitch, and Chinese staircase patterns were common, each yielding different textures and shapes. The projects—usually keychains, bracelets, zipper pulls, or ID lanyards—often became trophies of perseverance, as many children began with clumsy knots and sticky fingers only to later master complex weaves and multi-strand constructions. The very act of making gimp was a formative experience: it required patience, spatial thinking, and muscle memory, imbuing the final object with personal effort and pride.
For years, these lanyards were seen as throwaway souvenirs of adolescence. However, as Gen Xers and Millennials have grown older, a reevaluation of these seemingly mundane objects has begun to take place. Vintage gimp projects now appear at flea markets, online auctions, and Etsy shops, often categorized under retro crafts, outsider art, or Americana. Their appeal lies not just in the form itself, but in the cultural associations they evoke. A pristine pink-and-purple box-stitched keychain might not be rare in terms of production, but it serves as a time capsule—representing a moment when leisure, creativity, and hands-on activity were central to childhood experience.
Collectors drawn to gimp often look for authenticity in materials, signs of handmade workmanship, and period-specific colorways. Early examples, particularly those using the stiffer, matte-finish plastics of the 1950s and 60s, are increasingly harder to find in good condition. Gimp from this era often exhibits a slightly dulled tone compared to the high-gloss finishes of the 1980s. Pieces that incorporate novelty beads, googly eyes, or early keychain hardware can command higher prices, especially if tied to a known camp, school, or youth organization. Some rare kits from the mid-century era, still in their original packaging with illustrated instructions, have become desirable collectibles in their own right, appealing to both nostalgia enthusiasts and design historians.
There is also a growing appreciation of lanyard gimp within the realm of fiber art and contemporary craft discourse. Some artists have begun to incorporate gimp techniques into fine art installations or wearable art pieces, recontextualizing the humble summer craft as a form of textile exploration. Others view the medium as a vehicle for commentary on memory, childhood, and the aesthetics of mass-produced culture. In this sense, gimp stands alongside other forms of “low” craft—macramé, potholder loops, friendship bracelets—that have been reconsidered as legitimate artistic languages.
Whether kitschy or collectible, summer-camp gimp projects undeniably occupy a cherished niche in 20th-century craft history. They remind us of slower days, of sitting cross-legged on wooden decks, plastic cords in hand, learning through repetition. As the craft world continues to embrace the nostalgic and the handmade, these bright plastic relics are finding their way out of junk drawers and into curated collections. Once emblematic of carefree summers and youthful accomplishment, they now speak to something deeper: a shared cultural experience, tactile memory, and the enduring appeal of making something—anything—by hand.
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