Tag Archives: sailor

Nagasawa Penstyle Proske Demonstrator (Sailor 1911 Standard)

Under £120 ($157) for two Kobe inks and a store-exclusive Sailor is a deal that really shouldn’t be passed up. The Kobe inks (at 61!) cover far wider ground than most other premium lines, and are far more consistent across the whole range than all makers. 

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This came with a gold-plated converter, too; I got them mixed up…

What you get for your money (after taking away the price of the two bottles of ink) is an exclusive pen for less than RRP. The cap band differs from the regular Sailor pen by being thinner — it doesn’t extend all the way to the lip. The etchings on it also say NAGASAWA PenStyle instead of SAILOR JAPAN FOUNDED 1911. It functions as any other Sailor would: with their shockingly small converter (~0.6ml) or a cartridge. Either way, no fuss.

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A perfectly tasteful amount of bling.

The nib itself has completely different scrollwork: Nagasawa’s logo takes pride of place instead of the anchor logo, with 14K below that and then a Sailor logotype. The nib size designation goes on the left edge, as is typical with Sailor. The border is also a simpler single-line design instead of the curly edge found on other nibs.

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A simple design, executed very well.

The rise of the Jinhao 992 and similar models of Chinese knock-off beg the question: if you can get a purely functional pen for 99p, why pay a hundred times that? The answers always come back to the same handful of things: build quality, quality control, design, and experience of use. In my opinion, owning both (the Jinhao will be reviewed at a later date), and knowing full well that one can be cheaply sacrificed while the other costs a good few hours’ pay… I still bring the Proske around. The writing experience with a Sailor nib is simply far beyond anything a Chinese pen can offer.

The extra-fine nib on this is absolutely wonderful. I enjoy my nibs very fine, and Sailor’s famous feedback is thus even more evident here. Yet it still writes smoothly, and the feed provides enough ink to keep the pen moving across more textured papers like Rhodia or Fabriano. Tomoe River simply bends to the nib’s will like grass in the wind.

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A 5mm grid means the x-height of the text is less than 2mm!

Overall, this is a deal I hugely recommend, both in terms of aesthetics — I think this looks better than the regular Sailor 1911 — and the fact that you get two bottles of ink with it. What better way to get started on a Kobe ink collection?

Pilot Décimo Mitsukoshi LE: Kira Karacho 1624 (2016)

It seems that every other fountain pen user has some variation of a Pilot Capless, be it the full-size Vanishing Point or the slimmer Décimo. I knew I wanted something special, since I’d gone this far without buying a basic model, and had been eyeing the Namiki-branded Raden VPs for months, trying to convince myself to stump up the cash for one. But then this came along:

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Clicky clicky.

…Japanese second-hand sites are incredible.

Though the website I scored this off claims that this pen is out of a production run of 75, the 2017 Mitsukoshi limited editions are made in a run of 100. As the pen itself is unnumbered, I can only assume that the seller made an error. There is also another version in ivory/white design and gold trim that causes really painful pen envy in me when I see a photo pop up online. This year’s versions are superb as well.

Much ink has been spilled (ha!) over the clip position on both types of Capless, and I have only this to say: for anyone considering buying one, it is a must to try before you buy. I had the fortune of trying the VP, to check if the clip would sit properly in my grip. At any rate, a standard triangle grip should have no problems with the clip, and I have also found it possible to hold the pen such that the clip sits beneath the index finger.

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No problem with me!

The nib comes in three different trims (gold, rhodium, and black) and mine is a fine nib in 18k gold. They’re also available in “special alloy” which are significantly cheaper, though if you’re shelling out for the technology that goes into the Capless, you might as well go the whole hog and get a gold nib. The best thing about them? They’re swappable!

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Nib assembly (with Pilot Metro converter).

The pen takes CON-50 converters (and thus CON-40) but I like to use it with the Metro’s squeezy converter. I’m not a stickler for being able to view the ink level, but if that’s important to you, in addition to a large ink capacity, the only way is to syringe-fill a Pilot cartridge. There’s a metal cap that comes included with the pen, to add some weight when using a cartridge. 

All the Pilot nibs I’ve come across have been uniformly excellent, and this is no exception: even with its tiny size, there’s a nice amount of bounce, and though the line is slightly thicker one would expect from a Japanese fine, there is a very clear and precise sensation when writing, even on smooth papers like Tomoe River. Here is a writing sample on slightly more textured Fabriano EcoQua:

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A flawless writing experience!

And as for the little cloud design on the body, that’s the hallmark of Kira Karacho 1624, a Japanese department store which teamed with Pilot to release the 2016 pen show exclusives:

Pelikan 400NN Brown Tortoise (1950s)

I jumped on this one because Pelikan no longer makes anything near the range they used to have, both in terms of pen shapes as well as nib types:

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Look at the rounded cap finial and piston knob.

The 400NN was developed after the 400N was a “neu” version of the old 400, which looks like the modern M400. The finial and knob gradually got rounder, finally arriving at the rather cigar shape above. The binde of the vintage tortoise variants also varies far more in colour and evenness compared to the modern browns on the M400 and M800 pens; mine shades from dark brown to as light as yellow and green in some places — to my eyes, much closer to a tortoise’s patterns than the rather averaged-out modern colours!

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Such a beautifully uneven brown binde!

It arrived clean but definitely shows signs of age and wear: the finial is rubbed fairly smooth, not to mention the brassing on the clip and the cap band. The nib itself is in excellent condition though it has a slightly stubby quality, which is a sign of long periods of intense use.

Indeed, it was the nib that attracted me to the pen. Pelikan used to make a range of italics and obliques and “ballpoint” (Kugel) sizes with different sorts of tipping, and this dates from the era of pre-ballpoint carbon papers, when special nibs were made to withstand larger pressures without flexing. Mine is a DF (Durchschreib-Fein) nib, or a manifold fine, and comes in almost as fine as my Japanese pens — no modern Pelikan “fine” here! It is a single-tone 14k gold nib and has shorter tines. Unusually enough, it also has two breather holes. 

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Old-school cool: the DF nib.

In writing on Fabriano paper (below), the pen gives a very pleasant sort of toothy feedback — a sign of wear — and yet absolutely glides along on Tomoe River paper. As with my other Pelikan fines, it writes on the drier side, but is wet enough here to show the shading in Oku-yama. The pen itself is light to hold, as one would expect from the rather small 400 size. And while it is very firm, it does not feel like a nail…

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My most even fine nib!

A size comparison (in featured photo) places the 400NN as intermediate between my M200 and M620s, which is only to be expected. More delicious photos in better lighting here:

Montblanc Slimline (1980)

Another Montblanc I didn’t buy…

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Sleek as heck.

My mother gave this to my father almost forty years ago and it has made its way to me after not being used for most of the intervening period. (I guess it’s sensible to keep expensive pens away from the kids.) For such a slim pen, it has a total of four(!) Montblanc stars on it: one on the nib, one on the clip, and one on each end of the pen.

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Slap a star on every flat surface! The one on the barrel is slightly raised.

There is a model without the star on the clip (the Noblesse) and that has a gold nib. The Slimline, on the other hand, has a gold-plated steel nib. While I have never tried the Noblesse, the way this Slimline writes makes me feel that Montblanc certainly were doing something right: this is a joy to behold.

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The other two stars.

It seems to be a common complaint about modern Montblancs: that their nibs are very average and that the way to find a good nib is to go vintage. My admittedly fairly limited experience with Montblancs definitely bears this out; having tuned an old Montblanc 32 and tried some modern 146s and 149s, I can safely say I enjoy this pen far more than the far more expensive Johannes Brahms I wrote about last week.

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Very smooth, and with far more character than an anonymous modern nib…

Sailor 1911 Large Demonstrator

…It’s harder to take photos of this pen than I anticipated. But how beautiful is this?

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Blingy, too!

I tried out my first Sailor at the now-defunct Penfriend on Fleet Street (yes, that Fleet Street) in London. It was the smaller 1911 Standard, with a 14k nib, but it was also the demonstrator. Having read so much about the pros and cons of the Sailor nib came nowhere near to actually trying one out, though, and the instant I put pen to paper I was blown away by how smooth it was.

And so the online trawling began, as it always does… I found a few of these going on the eBay grey market and started placing bids, eventually winning this Large demonstrator for around £135 ($185). I thought for a while about getting a Naginata-togi nib, but those only start at MF and go broader from there, and would not work with my small handwriting.

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Simple, no-fuss assembly.

The pen comes with a converter included and a stock cartridge of what I assume is Sailor Black. Unfortunately with Sailor, the converter is proprietary and holds a shamefully small amount of ink (~0.6ml). But it does what it needs to do, though it can feel a little fragile. I’ve also come across photos of eyedroppered 1911s, though I wouldn’t recommend that at all since ink can corrode the metal band in the barrel.

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Look at the scrollwork on that nib!

The cap has a slightly-less-transparent inner cap, which some have said spoils the demonstrator aesthetic. To me it doesn’t matter at all, and the cap helps keep the nib from drying out. The nib has some scrollwork on it which is extremely classic in style, and actually makes use of nib creep to stand out — in the photo above, black ink has increased the contrast on those lines. The Sailor logo and 21K 875 follow below 1911, the founding year of the company. Oddly enough, the nib width is etched into the left side of the nib.

Sailor famously has a pencil-like feedback seen by a fair few as toothy or even scratchy. I can only agree with the former: there is a little bit of bite on the paper, but the nib is very smooth — not buttery in the way Pelikans are, but definitely not scratchy. I found my first experience with the smaller F nib absolutely mindblowing, and the larger one was no different. My H-MF (hard medium fine) nib is in no way a nail, but it is definitely firm enough and shouldn’t be flexed. To me, even looking at the line it lays down gives me an impression of a very precisely-shaped point:

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Sooooo smoooooth.

With how pretty the pen is, the first thing I did when opening it up  was to ink it with my yellowest ink!

Pelikan M620 Grand Place

The pride and joy of my collection and my favourite pen:

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Drooooooooool.

I first learnt of this design when I came across the larger M800 Grand Place of 2015, which had a black piston knob and a black section. But then I saw a comparison picture with this and instantly fell in love: thus began my first pen hunt.

Curiously, an even smaller version exists: the M201 Bayou was made in a limited edition of 100 for Fountain Pen Hospital in New York. I had the forturne to see one at the 2016 Pelikan Hub in London, and was amazed to see just how translucent the barrel was. No need for an ink window when you can still see the ink sloshing around inside! Neither of the M620 or M800 models have translucent barrels, however.

Why this? Prior to this purchase I had only owned the M205 Amethyst and it has not gone uninked since I bought it. But I felt confident enough in the experience to take the plunge on a larger size, especially since the M6xx series was lighter than the brass-piston M8xx. Furthermore, the resin used in this pen is of a far warmer colour than the M800, which is slightly greyer to harmonise with the black parts. The copper colour of the M620 is incredible in photos — and even better in person!

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It practically breathes…

The Grand Place is the last of the Cities series (2002–6), and so it has the one-chick logo on the finial. Some of the earliest of the series have the two-chick logo, which was found on pens until as late as 2004. 

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Look at that sparkle!

All nibs in the Cities series are 18k gold nibs instead of the standard M6xx 14k nibs, though they are interchangeable. Unlike the M600/605 designation for two-tone/rhodium-plated nibs, however, the M620 nibs come in both, depending on the trim colour. The Grand Place was supposed to come with a two-tone nib but I opted for a rhodium-plated fine nib instead, because I liked the silver-coloured contrast with the pure warmth of the rest of the pen.

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Stunning nib, too.

When it arrived in London, a bottle of Sailor Jentle Oku-yama had just been delivered that day, and when I dipped the pen to write, I gasped. Such a smooth line, yet not without a certain feeling of precision. It was everything I had hoped for!

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Sailor makes some of the most ridiculous sheeny inks.

It matches my Massdrop Allegory leather wrap perfectly, and most of the time I’m torn between keeping it inked because it writes so beautifully and keeping it in storage because I’m worried about losing, damaging, or dropping it… But there you go. Grail pen #1 obtained!

Mabie Todd Swan 2C (c. 1920)

It gets interesting here: this is (half of) the first vintage purchase I made, and it has a real flex nib. I bought this off eBay, and it came fairly cheap because of a previous owner’s personalised engravement on the cap. I didn’t mind that at all; it was really strange to realise that this was a pen used by generations of people up to a hundred years previously. It was the first time I felt like I was holding a real piece of history in a writing instrument.

I sent it to John Sorowka in Oxford, who gave mine a date of 1913–20. There are several kinds of Swan out there; the earliest were made in 1887, and there were lever fillers as early as the 1910s. But here we go:

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Vintage pen number 1; several more to come…!

A very slim pen, made of finely chased hard rubber, the cap unscrews to reveal a very interesting feature: a slim gold stalk with a little hole in it.

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It’s really quite hard to take a photo of things that are the same colour…

I have been told this is rare in Swans, and indeed I haven’t managed to find another example like it.

That’s an overfeed, and it keeps the ink flow to the nib going even when the nib is flexed hard away from the (under)feed, as below:

Hey, I tried.

The overfeed still exists today in nibs like the Sailor Emperor series, though that is not designed to deal with flex like this.

The nib itself is pleasantly fine for my taste, if slightly toothy on the upstroke. A little 12000-grit micromesh made it sufficiently smooth for reverse writing as well.

Close-up of the nib, too!

That’s a 5mm Fabriano dot grid, the same paper as I used for the Namiki Falcon review. And with all of that business going on in the section, it still remains very slim – all of these parts are delicately balanced. I had some trouble with the way the parts came together, and initially had to readjust positions so that the overfeed did not touch the paper when I flexed. And for the true test…

Writing sample with different types of cursive writing.

That’s a line thickness that varies from 0.3mm to 1.5mm easily; 1.8mm would perhaps be possible with a little pushing. But I’m not risking springing this nib! What a beautiful piece of art.

In closing, here is a complete tear-down of the pen: