POSTCARD FROM PARIS | A STYLOPHILE’S PARADISE
In kindergarten, my Catholic mother told me that if I said nine Hail Marys every Tuesday, the Blessed Mother would give me something I wanted. Of course, I dutifully said my prayers. Then Mom asked what I wanted. Without a moment’s hesitation, I cried out. “A fountain pen!”
Mom walked me across the street to Woolworth’s, where she purchased my first fountain pen, a Sheaffer, for 29 cents.
Thus began my life as a writer and, more importantly for this postcard, a stylophile, which is a person, according to the Urban Dictionary, “who finds fountain pens inherently interesting.”
I began collecting them more than two decades ago when I looked for one to celebrate my 50th birthday and realized most were out of my price range. Fortunately, I stumbled into the world of less-expensive, vintage fountains pens, specifically those manufactured during World War II, which corresponded to my budget and lifelong fascination with that conflict.
Here’s a photo of a portion of my collection.
My penmanship, as the nuns at St. Mary’s would have told you, is execrable, but a fountain pen in your hand trains your fine motor skills, among other benefits. You’re forced to write more slowly, and the result is much clearer.
I just like the feel of a fountain pen in my hand. I’ve spent hours cleaning and polishing them, which makes me a dork or a hobbyist, or both. But stylophilia, which sounds like a disease, is the only hobby I’ve ever had.
I’m passing it on to another generation. My three grandchildren, 11, 7 and 5, are fascinated by my pens and love to write and draw with them.
I’ve gone more modern recently, buying inexpensive German-made Lamy Safari pens, a favorite, under $25, of many writers I know.
In Paris last September, I discovered Melodies Graphiques, a tiny (by American standards) and magical papeterie, or stationery store, in the Marais District on the right bank of the Seine River. It was like walking into Woolworth’s when I was five years old, only much, much better.
The shop is run by a genial Italian, Giacomo Nottiani, who stocks inks, dazzling notebooks, and jaw-dropping fountain pens.
We visited him this week, the very day we arrived. He showed me his latest arrival, a sleek orange metal Kaweco made in Nuremberg, Germany. I hesitated for two days because it cost $77, not that expensive but more than I have spent on a pen in a long time. On day three, I caved.
I brought it home yesterday and will use it to write a postcard to my Nieman Storyboard editor, Jacqui Banaszynski, whose belief in the value of writing postcards inspired this mini-series while I’m visiting Paris. In the parlance of stylophiles, it’s a good writer.
Thanks, Angshuman, Bessy and Pamela,
It's very gratifying when a post strikes a chord in people I respect.
I didn't know there was a word for me: stylophile! I love fountain pens and have the same early experience as you do Chip. When I was in grade 4 we were permitted to use fountain pens for the first time. Dad bought me a pair of matching Sheaffer pens which I used with enthusiasm and aplomb. I looked after them and took them with me to Melbourne Uni and was mortified when I lost one on the way from the Upper Law Theatre to the Union Building one day. I retraced my steps in vain. The other one simply wore out. Since then my pride of pen has been a S T Dupont (first one stolen from my office but replaced) and more recently spotted and exotically coloured ones from an Italian shop on Piccadilly in London. I have lately bought two ultra fine Lamys which help me write better and more legibly. My writing always looks good but is illegible upon inspection! One of the interesting things is that what I write in ink is completely different from what I type. The output could not be more different. But you exceed me in numbers of pens. I reckon I have a dozen but you have given me carte blanche to acquire one or two more. Thanks!