Is This the Best Fountain Pen You Can Buy for $30?
When I was 19, I spent a semester in the Northern English city of York. Every Monday, a professor dutifully doled out our weekly food allowance in the Queen’s paper notes, and I’d walk the cobbled streets to a local bakery just outside the Roman walls. There was a stationery shop next door, the kind of antiquated but charming thing you’d expect to find in a city with 400-year-old pubs. I often browsed, but never purchased, saving my pound coins for pints.
Eleven years later, I returned to the city, and thankfully, the stationery shop was still there. Another benefit of a city that ancient: things don’t change quickly. At my old fish and chips haunt, I confessed to the lady behind the counter that I’d waited over a decade to come back, only for her to reply, in her rough Yorkshire accent, that a man had been in last week who had waited for over 25 years. So much for my American earnestness.
The woman who owned the stationery shop was much, much nicer when indulging my nostalgia. And I was a little more financially prepared this time around, leaving the store with a Japanese paper notebook and a little German fountain pen: the Kaweco Sport in a British racing green and gold colorway.
It took me a minute to get the feel for it. I’m a chronic overgripper, which is why I draft on a keyboard rather than a notebook. A fountain pen likes a gentler approach, finesse over brute force. But once I got the hang of it, it was a joy to use. Small and lightweight, the pen’s design hasn't changed since 1935. Its octagonal barrel is easy to grasp in hand, and it’s a conveniently cartridge-filled—no medieval bottles of ink required unless you want to fill your own cartridges. It comes stock with a 23k gold-plated, stainless steel, engraved Kaweco nib in broad. That’s the only thing I would change; I prefer a finer line to match my cramped handwriting.
A fountain pen is an impractical choice, whether you’re spending less than $30 or over a grand. They’re a step up from a quill, but ballpoints were invented for a reason. But why reduce life to an everlasting network of little conveniences? Sure, you can tap away on the dopamine machine in your pocket and send an emogi-riddled group text. Or you could uncap your very reasonably priced Kaweco Sport and write a proper note. You might find yourself like Kurt Vonnegut, who once recounted a conversation with his wife about buying an envelope at the Post Office. She tells him he could buy a hundred envelopes online and store them in the closet. Sure, acknowledges Vonnegut, but he goes out anyway “because I'm going to have a hell of a good time in the process of buying one envelope.” A little less convenience sometimes leads to a lot more meaning, in both envelopes and fountain pens.
In deference to common sense, I’ll confess that there are places to use a fountain pen and places not to use a fountain pen. Writing a letter to a friend on vintage stationery? Thoughtful and fun. Picking up your child from preschool and signing the attendance sheet with a Kaweco instead of the provided Bic? A little performative.
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There are upgrade options—like anything else in the luxury goods market, you can upsell yourself. Esquire editor Luke Guillory likes a more modern-looking Lamy. I like the cheekily named Niblet from US-based Esterbrook Pens as well as the more luxurious Estie, which I have in a handsome honeycomb. I’ve also lucked into an Ogiva, from Italian brand Omas, which feels indulgent every time I write. Fair warning, these top-tier picks will have you running down different bottles of ink, signing up for calligraphy classes, and lusting after Montblancs on pen forums.
But you don’t have to follow Alice down this particular rabbit hole. The Kaweco Sport is the practically impractical choice. The working man’s fountain pen. The Wrangler denim shirt of the fine stationery world. Buy it, use it, abuse it, maybe replace the nib with something extra fine. And if you absolutely must upgrade the humble Sport, you can get a brass version here for under $100.
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