Now, this is a story all about how my pen got flipped, turned upside-down—and then it fell on the nib, which turned out to be a stroke of hidden luck—but I’m getting ahead of myself.
Simplistic, but in a most beautiful way. I love every bit of the design, from the little rows of dots around the cap to the delicate curve of the clip. It’s lightweight, but the
plastic excuse me, acrylic feels appropriately well-made and durable.
This might very well be the most satisfying capping mechanism I have encountered in a pen. Slides on, then snaps neatly into place. There’ve got to be small magnets involved, the way it gently gives a little pull at the very end as you slide it on—subtle, but utterly, unreasonably satisfying. The cap stays solidly in place (hence why I’m certain it’s
magnets miracles magnets), but paradoxically is easy to uncap with even one hand. Let me reiterate: this is my current top pick for best cap.
It’s small enough to look nice clipped on a small notebook, slipped into a jeans pocket (not as nice as a Kaweco Liliput, but not every pen can be a luxurious choking hazard), or even tossed unobtrusively in your coat pocket, but it’s not so small as to inhibit its useability or be considered a mini pen. I have no problem using it unposted, but people with bigger hands will probably want to post the cap.
Tell me what you see above this sentence. If you answered, a really terrible performance from a nib on a pretty pricey pen, then you would be correct! I must have tried nearly half a dozen inks on the F nib it came with. It vexed me to no end. I’ve learned how to use fountain pens and Japanese fine nibs at this point, so it wasn’t me. It was undeniably the nib. And on one of my repeated trips to flush out the pen to try a different ink during a break at work, invisible forces (possibly known as gravity) slapped the pen right out of my hand (not even the whole pen, mind you, just the assembly of nib, feed, grip, converter) and caused it to land nib-first on the hard tile floor.
It made the writing…kind of better? But not better enough. That’s when it clicked—this feed is exactly the same as the Pilot Plumix feed, and this nib is exactly the same line of “Pilot Superior Quality” found on the Plumix. Could this possibly be the answer I was looking for?
The Plumix italic nib fit like a dream, and wrote as smooth as a professional ice-skater on a freshly Zamboni’d ice rink. That metaphor may be a little ham-fisted, but I’m not (anymore) and I can actually use an italic nib now in a way that isn’t embarrassing to the entire tradition of handwriting. Add the round grip (as opposed to the Plumix’s molded pliers-style grip) to the mix, a dash of the always quick-drying Lamy blue ink, and I daresay my handwriting even passes as being moderately attractive. You don’t see it? Maybe you’re not squinting hard enough.
So, after a few character-building hiccups, I now have a highly ideal pen. It’s stood up well, so far, through at least half a year’s worth of casual-use daily abuse, and it’s still going strong.
Pilot Prera Clear Body Fountain Pen – Fine Nib – Translucent Blue Accent at JetPens