Let me first present the perfect soundtrack for this post:
Past Days
My mother owned a bookstore. The store’s full name was ‘Boek- en Kantoorboekhandel J.W. Leijten’ (that’s ‘Book and Stationery Store J.W. Leijten’).
So we grew up immersed in books, paper, pens and ink.
Our attic was filled with sheets of paper and cardboard in sizes from A10 (26 x 37 mm) to A0 (841 x 1189 mm); as well as other ‘papers’ such as agendas, envelopes, notepads, notebooks, diaries, planners, colouring- and sketchbooks.
The store itself was chock full of racks and more racks full of paper, pencils, pens, brushes, chalk, markers, ink, paint for school, office, hobby, arts & crafts; all these alongside stately display cases filled with beautiful and luxurious, or sober but elegant and weighty fountain pens named Caran d’Ache, Parker, Pelikan, Montblanc, Sheaffer and Waterman.
There was a separate and dedicated room for books, wall-to-wall crammed with towering Lundia bookcases: books books books!
It was enchanting and magical.
I am stating the obvious here, but still: my mother grew up in a different era. She desperately wanted to become a hospital nurse, but her father, my grandfather, commanded otherwise. She inherited half of the family business, the bookstore; her two brothers got the other piece, the printing and publishing house.
Ultimately, she loved it. My mother was a friendly, naturally cheerful woman who thrived on as much social interaction as possible. A busy bookstore in the heart of a small village was an ideal place to hang out, of course. Our house was a vibrant environment anyway: a family with six children (five boys, the sixth and youngest a girl), two lovely shop assistants, a maid and once a week a seamstress.
Present Days
The other day I discovered a fountain pen in a junk box filled with forgotten and discarded history. The thing is a remnant, a gift, from an Oracle ‘something’ course I attended some 25 years ago. I remember the days following that week I definitely gave my new gem a serious try, for it looked cool & posh! But apparently, at that moment (in my life), I was far too ‘busy’ and ‘important’ to wait for any stupid ink to dry. So after one cartridge the fountain pen was put aside without any mercy and regret.
A nice silver LAMY pen it is, with thankfully the name of the educational institution subtly applied! Apparently I did clean the pen thoroughly before storing it; she looks, and acts, brand new (one very tiny little barely visible negligible dent in the cap, strategically hidden between the legs of the clip). And for sure I am now at a place (in my life), not an intersection but a one-way street, where I literally have oceans of time to, attentive and thoughtfully, let the ink dry peacefully!
I started browsing and looking for ways to reawaken my silver pen (and my willingness to entrust some writings and drawings with a real pen, with real ink, to real paper again). A fascinating world (a proverbial Rabbit Hole indeed) of YouTube Pen People Communities and Pinterest Stationery Boards (be sensible and dodge Reddit!) opened up for me: bizarre, cringe-worthy over-enthusiastic, dangerous and utterly scary, but seductively tempting, sometimes thorough and in-depth informative, at the same time.
Long story short: I quickly stumbled upon the latest ‘late summer 2025’ special editions of the LAMY AL-star (the slightly more refined aluminium (aluminum) series above the ‘Lego’ plastic Safari; not everyone’s Cup of Tea they are): both fresh and fruity looking, a really nice couple.
Of course I couldn’t decide … so I bought them both:
the LAMY AL-star Fountain Pens, Mint and Dark Dust.
Consequently at the moment my LAMY Fountain Pen arsenal consists of a Special Edition ‘Dark Dust’ with a 25 year old M(edium)K(ugel) nib, a (same SE series) ‘Mint’ with a M(edium) nib and a 25 year old silver AL-star with a 1,5 stub nib.
To be continued … (J. Herbin Glass Dip Pen; 05. Shocking blue – Akkerman fountain pen ink)