I've got this box sitting on the shelf in the back room (not as shown here, obviously, since I've plonked it on the garden table to take its picture for you). But goodness knows where it came from. I've never owned a Toshiba computer. And I don't recognise the stuff that's inside, either. So it's all a bit of a mystery. Probably something that someone asked us to look after some time ago - and it's been there ever since.
Anyway, that's all besides the point really. Because what intrigues me is the design on the side of the box. For a computer that probably dates from the mid 1990s, this box couldn't be any more of it's time. But why is that? At face value, it only has the illustration, restrained typography, two colours and white background that you might expect on today's Apple packaging. It's not a million miles away in concept, just worlds apart in terms of execution.
And here's why, I think. First, the name: T1800/60. What's that all about? Well, I'm guessing that the 60 refers to the size of the hard disk as 60MB (yes, you read that right - megabytes). But the 1800? Nothing on a mid 1990s computer ran that fast or was that big. Unless, perhaps, it refers to the weight of the thing. But you couldn't get away with that today, could you? Because all computer names now either have to start with a lower-case 'i', or be named after something, like a Fox or a Storm.
And then just look at that illustration. Two simple things give it away for what it is: those overlapping edge lines on the top corners of the screen and that single cross-hatch. It's what you'd expect (or expected) to see on an architect's drawing. Except that no architect (or at least none that I've ever come across) draws like that. No, it's a stylistic technique that's only ever used by people who'd like you to think they were an architect.
Anyway, all of this musing on Toshiba and the mid 1990s has reminded me of their Ian Dury voiced television adverts of the time: