Holly Varah, a 42-year-old bartender at a dive bar in Port Townsend, Washington, recently made a difficult decision that reflects a broader struggle among vintage photo booth enthusiasts nationwide. This spring, she was forced to sell her beloved analog photo booth due to mounting credit card debt and expensive repair costs, joining countless other owners who have watched these iconic machines disappear from the American landscape.

For five years, Varah's booth served as more than just entertainment at her bar. When she first acquired the machine, she noticed its classic red velvet curtains were deliberately short, ending just above the hips of seated customers to prevent inappropriate activities. However, Varah had different plans. "I immediately put a long curtain in," she explained, transforming the space into what she called "a space of indiscretion." Her establishment even maintained a house policy offering customers a free drink token in exchange for taking a nude photo in the booth.

Varah's story resonates with a passionate community of self-described "boothers" - analog photography enthusiasts who gathered in New York City over Labor Day weekend for the annual International Photobooth Convention. This traveling event, which took place in London the previous year, moves between cities with significant concentrations of vintage photo booths. The convention features technical demonstrations, artist presentations, and hands-on workshops dedicated to preserving these mechanical marvels.

During the weekend festivities, attendees chartered buses to visit Classic Photo Booth's warehouse in Old Bridge, New Jersey, where they could test various models dating back to the 1940s. Max Sverdlov, 73, has operated Classic Photo Booth for over three decades, specializing in refurbishing broken machines and selling them to collectors and enthusiasts worldwide. His warehouse represents one of the few remaining sources for authentic vintage photo booths.

The convention attracts people with deeply personal connections to these machines. Jocelyn Dean, a former photo booth technician from Portland, Oregon, once received a marriage proposal as the flashbulbs went off inside a booth (she declined). Kati Cleaver, who restores machines in Chicago, chose to take her engagement photos in a photo booth. Perhaps most touching is the story of Justin Twaddell and his wife Caitlin von Schmidt, who began taking their newborn son Tom to a booth near their Greenfield, Massachusetts home 18 years ago for some of his first baby pictures. The family has maintained this monthly ritual ever since, continuing even as Tom heads off to college locally this fall.

The financial reality of owning these machines presents significant challenges. Únies Gonzalez, a 29-year-old film lab manager from Houston, Texas, learned that authentic film photo booths cost between $20,000 and $50,000. She and her boss, Jessi Bowman, traveled to the New York convention hoping to purchase a machine, driven by the fact that no operational film photo booths remain in their entire state. According to Autophoto, the organization that runs the convention, fewer than 200 authentic film photo booths exist worldwide.

"I take a trip each year to a place that has one, so I can document myself the way I feel most represented," Gonzalez explained. Although the Texans left the convention empty-handed, they established relationships with potential sellers for future purchases. Their situation highlights the geographical challenges facing booth enthusiasts, as these machines become increasingly rare outside major metropolitan areas.

The appeal of vintage photo booths extends far beyond mere nostalgia. Unlike modern digital alternatives commonly seen at wedding receptions and corporate events, analog machines produce softer, more forgiving images that many find more authentic and artistic. Peter McDaniel, a 45-year-old from Chicago, captured this sentiment perfectly: "I don't like photos of myself, but I love photo booths."

Emma Cooper, a 35-year-old from Los Angeles, has made tracking down photo booths during her travels a personal mission, though success isn't guaranteed. "I went all the way to Poland, and the booth was broken," she recalled. "Luckily, I headed to Berlin afterwards, which is so rich in photo booth culture." Berlin's abundant "photoautomats" represent one of the few places where these machines remain relatively common.

The creative possibilities within photo booths seem endless. While some users enter without any plan, others approach the experience with artistic intensity. Lexi Darlin, a 42-year-old artist, storyboards her poses "with the intensity of a film director." Some enthusiasts bring elaborate props, while others bring unexpected subjects. Alice Christine Walker, a photographer and former technician in Portland, Oregon, once received an urgent call from a woman attempting to photograph her dark-colored chickens in a booth. The birds weren't showing up properly on film, so Walker adjusted the exposure settings to solve the problem.

The technical complexity of these machines often surprises newcomers. Despite appearing simple - press a button, take pictures, wait for printing - photo booths represent sophisticated feats of chemistry and engineering. Dean remembers explaining the intricate chemical processes to a curious young boy while servicing a machine at Portland's Ace Hotel. When she noticed his eyes glazing over during her technical explanation, she simplified her approach: "So then I said: 'It's magic!' and he went: 'Oooo, OK!' I should have started with that."

For many enthusiasts, the social aspect proves equally important as the technical marvel. Melissa Veerasammy, 28, and Raya Lieberman, 30, who traveled to the convention from Montreal and Portland respectively, bonded over photo booths during college and have maintained their friendship "one strip at a time." Veerasammy appreciates "the tangible memories that are created, and that you only have four shots," while Lieberman adds, "There's no negative - if you lose it, it's gone." Lieberman also emphasizes the communal aspect: "They're a gathering place, and as soon as you're in a booth together, you're like a kid again."

The machines once dominated arcades, bars, and European metro stations, but have gradually become expensive relics. Maintenance costs continue rising as only a handful of qualified technicians remain, and supplies like film, ink, and replacement parts carry premium prices. Hannah Roddam-Kitt, 40, owns the only analog photo booth in Portugal, highlighting how rare these machines have become even in countries that once embraced them.

Despite the financial and logistical challenges, the passion for these machines remains strong. Even Varah, who felt "the physical sensation of stress leaving my body" when her booth was loaded onto the truck for sale, hasn't given up hope. When asked about potentially purchasing another machine in the future, her response was immediate and enthusiastic: "I would jump on it." This sentiment captures the enduring appeal of these mechanical time capsules that continue to create magic, one photo strip at a time.