This is the tenth and final part of a blog series in which I’m learning to use fountain pens. For all the previous installments, click here.
When I began writing this series of blog posts over two years, I’d hoped that I would be proficient with a fountain pen by the end. But now here I am, a collection of fountain pens surrounding me, and I still feel like a novice. These are surprisingly complicated stationery tools, and I could probably write a hundred posts in this series without feeling totally comfortable. Still, I’ve managed to learn a lot along the way, and, at the very least, I don’t find fountain pens as intimidating as I once did.
So, now that I’ve literally and figuratively spilled a good deal of ink, it’s time to end this series with a fountain pen that I’ve been coveting since the very beginning: The Pilot Vanishing Point.
The Vanishing Point’s claim to fame is that it’s one of the very few retractable fountain pens on the market, and it has been ever since the product line was introduced in the 1960s. Why don’t more manufacturers make retractable fountain pens? Well, when a fountain pen nib is exposed to air for too long, ink will dry up in and around the feed, which causes clogs that are a hassle to clean. But Pilot’s engineers solved this problem with a simple “trap door” mechanism that opens when the nib is ejected and seals shut when it is retracted.
It’s a novelty – and I mean that in the best sense of the word – but it’s also expensive. So, after saving up a little, I spent the most amount of money I’ve ever spent on a pen, $134, and placed my order for a bright yellow Vanishing Point with a medium nib. When it arrived a few days later, I wasted no time before inking it up with a brown Iroshizuku (Pilot brand) ink.
While a lot of other fountain pens can come across as pretentious or gaudy, the Vanishing Point’s sleek design is like writing with a Chevy Camaro. So handing it over to people who have zero experience with fountain pens is a lot of fun, if not also a bit risky. I’ve stood frozen with terror as a co-worker attempted to write with the nib upside-down and then proceeded to shake the bejeezus out of it when the ink wouldn’t flow. But these are the risks we take to show off a cool pen.
And it is undoubtedly a cool pen. It writes smoothly, it looks good, and it’s generally just a pleasure to use. At the same time, it’s certainly not for everybody. For example, a lot has been written about this pen’s clip placement on the grip section of the barrel, and this is uncomfortable for some. Fortunately, I don’t have that problem, and if anything, I find that it helps me to hold the pen properly.
The big downside for me – and this applies to all expensive pens – is that I don’t always feel comfortable using it. If I’m at my desk, and I’m using Pilot’s approved ink, it’s fine. But if I want to take this out and about or use it at work, I’m paranoid about losing or breaking it. And, yes, I suppose this is just a personal mental block that I’ll have to get over, but the concern is real enough for me.
So, now the Nib Novice series is over, part of me wonders how much I’ll continue to use fountain pens. I have to admit that fountain pens never really clicked with me in the same way that they have for other people. Yes, I’ve learned a lot and had fun writing these posts, but I’ve also had my share of frustrating experiences. I also rarely find myself in situations where I need to sit down and write a lot, and ballpoints or gel pens tend to be much more convenient for me.
I suspect that I will, at least on occasion, use these pens. They are great for writing cards and checks, and my girlfriend uses the Pilot V Pen for all sorts of things. Time will tell, I suppose. So you’ll just have to keep an eye out for more fountain pen reviews in the future.
3 thoughts on “Nib Novice, Part 10: The Vanishing Point”
There’s a simple trick to stop worrying about your precious pen: buy another one or two (the more the better) of the same or higher price – you cannot worry about all of them 😉
But seriously, a new fountain pen, especially the more expensive ones, should be so *nice* that you’d want to use *this* and only this one all the time. If you don’t have this feeling, you two probably don’t belong together…
Greetings from a fellow penaddict
LikeLiked by 1 person