A Review of the Godbole FlatLay A5 Notebook Cover

PRELUDE

In search of a suitable notebook cover

My fondness for smooth, writing-friendly paper predates my understanding of what paper quality even meant. Back then, there were notebooks capable of robbing a ballpoint pen’s tungsten-carbide ball of its spherical structure - let alone being safe for fountain pens. During my school years, there existed a premium category of Oxford Exercise Notebooks (from a Kolkata-based company), ruled with blurple lines - ink that promises blue but renders purple. These days, blurples are exactly the kind of inks I avoid.

         Later came the acquired appreciation for fountain pen friendly paper, along with the fascination of seeing ink reveal its inherent shading and character. Like many others, I settled on the A5 format as the ideal everyday-carry notebook size, though I still prefer the broader B5 dimensions for desk writing.

         Years ago, I used to get MD notebooks from Japan - back when the prices were still sane. Both the MD and Life notebooks fit nicely inside Midori’s A5 transparent plastic cover. But over time, I wanted something more permanent for softcover notebooks, which inevitably led me toward that well-known island of infinite craving: the internet, now fortified with AI-powered searches that seem to understand my purchasing habits better than I do.

I had three conditions:

• I wanted something durable. Full-grain leather was preferable, though I wouldn’t object to good top-grain leather either. Personally, I feel PU “vegan” leather is among the worst things to happen in the name of sustainability - an endless cycle of replacement disguised as an environmental virtue.
• The cover needed to lie flat on a desk and comfortably accommodate a 100 sheet notebook.
• I did not want excessive pockets, organizers, or pen loops. Too many compartments defeat the purpose of a minimalist notebook cover. I can already carry my phone and pen in my pockets; I don’t need my notebook cover moonlighting as a wallet.

Here were some of the expensive, occasionally absurd options I considered:

• Galen A5 Leather Cover - $54 + shipping
• MD A5 Goat Leather Cover - $128 + shipping (at that price you could probably buy an entire goat here)
• Superior Labor A5 Leather Notebook Cover - $170 + shipping (absolutely not)
• Lapis Bard A5 Leather Jacket - Cognac - $49 (actually very reasonable for the quality)

             At the time I was in the US, so naturally my search results leaned toward the most expensive possibilities available. Eventually I refined my search to products available locally in India, and that is how I came across a company called Godbole Gear. 

           For those wondering, Godbole is a Marathi surname. From their website I learned that Juhi Salinkar and Gaurav Godbole - both engineers by education and previous profession - decided to pursue leathercraft full-time after relocating back to India. Kudos to them. Someday, perhaps. Among their offerings were the A5 and A6 FlatLay notebook covers under the Special Edition section.

A LITTLE BACKGROUND

The myriad permutations of leather-craft

Godbole Gear emphasizes the use of saddle stitching: famously associated with Hermès, where every stitch is locked independently using two needles. The advantage is simple: even if one stitch fails, the rest do not unravel.

What interested me more, however, was Gaurav’s story behind designing the FlatLay cover. It echoed exactly the sort of frustrations I had with with some notebook covers and aligned closely with what I had been searching for.

The company also highlights its use of full-grain leather across its products. If you’ve never ventured into the intricate world of leather grades and finishes, here's the condensed version:

1. Full Grain: The highest quality. A cut of leather consisting of the outer layer of hide, left unsanded and unbuffed to retain its natural imperfections. It has a strong and durable surface.
2. Top Grain: The top layer is sanded to remove imperfections, which reduces some of the strength and water-repellent qualities of full grain leather. It is commonly used in handbags, wallets, and shoes.
3. Corrected: A broader term often referred to as genuine leather. It can be any layer of hide that has been treated to create a uniform surface. Commonly used in belts, wallets, bags, gloves, and shoes.
4. Split Grain: A layer cut from the lower levels of top grain leather. It is not as dense, tight, or durable as full grain or top grain leather.
5. Reconstituted & Recycled: Leather scraps are bonded together using polyurethane or latex. 

Here are a list of leather finishes:

1. Aniline: Dyes allow natural surface of leather to show through. 
2. Semi-Aniline: Similar to aniline but with added pigments.
3. Faux: Also known as PU, Vegan or Vinyl leather. Is made of polyurethane and made to mimic real leather.
4. There are many more types (12+), but they may not be relevant to our search for pen cases and sleeves.

        Leather tanning is the process of treating hides to clean them of dirt, blood, and hair. This process alters the protein structure of the hide to make the leather durable and less susceptible to decomposition. 

1. Vegetable tanning: This method uses natural materials or tannins derived from plants and bark, which are astringents. It’s an ancient, environmentally friendly process.
2. Chromium tanning: Chromium sulfate is used for a faster and cheaper tanning process, offering more color options than vegetable tanning. The hair and flesh are removed before the tanning process.

There are, of course, many more variations, though those are less relevant to notebook covers and pen accessories.

I’ve also had good experiences with top-grain leather products from Khyati’s company, The Black Canvas, based in Mumbai. Good top-grain leather, when properly cared for, lasts remarkably well too. Some of my luggage tags from The Black Canvas have survived years of long-haul flight abuse without complaint. 

Although the fit and finish of Godbole Gear can surpass many established international brands.

DESIGN

Minimalistically simple

The FlatLay cover is available in four primary colours - Mahogany, Chestnut, Black, and Racing Green; along with several thread options including red, white, black, chestnut, and dark brown. All of them look subtly stunning.

             I ordered the Racing Green A5 version with red stitching and monogramming simply because it looked different with a sense of subtlety. After placing the order, I received a confirmation email along with an estimated wait time of roughly 3-4 weeks. By the time I had recovered from jet lag, the cover had arrived.

The packaging was minimal: a simple craft-paper sleeve accompanied by a handwritten note from Juhi and Gaurav. It was thoughtfully done, although I sincerely hope one of them eventually falls into the fountain pen universe. If you’re making objects this beautiful for writers, you deserve equally good writing instruments.

The first thing I noticed upon unwrapping the cover was the stitching. The seams are elegant, precise, and remarkable. My monogram, blurred in the photographs was subtly embossed in a nice typeface.

Two external pen loops help secure the notebook closed. They comfortably accommodate slimmer pens up to roughly the diameter of a Lamy 2000 multipen (~12.6 mm). A standard Lamy 2000 fountain pen is too thick, while a Parker 51 fits comfortably.

           Personally, I would rather subject a Rotring 800 or Rapid Pro to the tension of holding the flaps shut than risk stressing one of my fountain pens, but that decision ultimately depends on your tolerance for mechanical anxiety.

              As you open the cover, you will notice that the beautiful stitching runs consistently across both the front and back. True to its branding, the cover lays perfectly flat on a table. There are two large slip pockets designed to hold a notebook, along with cards and other small items. The bottom of the right slip pocket carries the subtle “Godbole Handmade Leather Gear, Estd. 2014” imprint. You can use the right pocket to secure your notebook, while the left pocket is ideal for storing thin journalling essentials such as stickers, cards or bookmarks.

MATERIAL

The cover uses full-grain, vegetable-tanned aniline buffalo calf leather with a thickness ranging from roughly 1.2 mm internally to 2.4 mm externally, as per the website. This gives the cover structure and rigidity without resorting to cardboard fillers. It certainly appears durable, though only long-term use can validate that claim. Based on my experience with Midori leather covers and other full-grain leather accessories, however, I have little doubt about its durability.

       Truthfully, even a good top-grain leather product can last decades with occasional maintenance - with beeswax and exposure to sun rather than being kept inside dark drawers. Like all natural leather products, mold can become an issue if stored in dark and humid environments. However it’s easy to clean and moisturise them with a little beeswax.

FIT & FEEL

The leather retains visible grain patterns and feels smooth without becoming slippery. There is a certain warmth and familiarity to leather that synthetic materials still struggle to replicate. The cover is approximately 10% larger than a standard A5 notebook and comfortably accommodates notebooks up to roughly 18 mm thick. I currently use it with a thick Muji A5 ruled notebook swollen with photographs and paper cut-outs carrying some emotional value.

The A5 notebook fits snugly into the right slip pocket. Dimensionally, the cover measures around 165 mm × 230 mm and works well with standard A5 notebooks (150 mm × 210 mm). However, wider notebooks like Clairefontaine’s French-ruled notebooks (165mm x 210 mm) do not fit.

Here is the cover compared alongside my 10-year old Midori Traveler’s Notebook in passport size.

Here is the cover compared alongside my 11-year old Midori Traveler’s Notebook in standard size (130mm x 210mm).

FINAL COMMENTS

After several years of using notebook systems ranging from Midori Traveler’s Notebooks to simple plastic covers, I have realised that sometimes we need a touch of luxury to appreciate the emotional value that these notebooks carry for us.

            I prefer notebook covers that disappear into use rather than constantly demanding attention through excessive organization features or over-designed interiors. The FlatLay succeeds precisely because it isn’t over-designed It keeps the notebook flat, feels reassuringly comfortable to use and is beautifully handcrafted. The cover never tries to appear luxurious, it simply is. If I were to suggest a single change, I would love to see an option without the external pen loops, perhaps paired with a different closure system.

You can find my other pen and paraphernalia reviews here. 

REFERENCES

• Godbole FlatLay Cover Launch

• Leather grade and finishes

• A bookish review of Midori Traveler’s Notebook

• Midori Traveler’s Notebook (Passport) Review

• A utilitarian review of a few pen cases

A Visconti Homo Sapiens, Disassembled: Lessons from a Repair

PRELUDE

A decade later, when one of my long-serving Homo Sapiens fell slightly behind humans in evolution.

Few pens inspire the kind of quiet admiration that the Visconti Homo Sapiens does. The familiar warmth of its basaltic lava body, the hook-safe capping mechanism, and its distinct presence in the hand; these have long made it one of the most characterful writing instruments in my modest collection.

       

    I wrote about my experiences with the Bronze Maxi and the Florentine Hills LE almost a decade ago, when they were relatively new and full of promise. A decade on, time has added not just patina, but also perspective, particularly on the realities of maintenance.

And, as it turns out, even the Homo Sapiens is not entirely immune to the occasional evolutionary setback.

THE BLACK SWAN EVENT

Activated by my cleaning ritual

Every few months, I try to keep my personal flagship fountain pens within a five-pen rotation. Two of them travel in a Brown Bear two-pen pouch. One is reserved for captions, fitted with a stub or equivalent grind: for example, a Pelikan m205 Duo Highlighter, an m200 with an italic nib, or a Schon Monoc with a reverse broad grind. The other is typically a snap-cap pen for quick note-taking: the Sheaffer Legacy 2026 at the moment (though it could just as easily be my Lamy 2000 or Pilot VP Fermo).

           The other three are for pure writing joy, at least as far as nibs are concerned. They reside in a Visconti Dreamtouch three-pen case. These three are not necessarily brand flagships. The only pen that remains permanently inked in this trio is a Conid Kingsize Demonstrator with a titanium fine nib, the Ti nib is a 2025 purchase from Conid. With its factory 14k fine nib (bought seven years ago), it never quite held the same place in my main three-pen rotation for more than a month; but that is a subject for another post.

Coming back to my cleaning ritual: I wanted to bring one of my Homo Sapiens back into the three-pen rotation. I leaned towards the Florentine Hills LE. It needed a bit of cleaning, especially around the blackened sterling silver trims, and I also wanted to unscrew the nib unit and apply some silicone grease to the inner barrel.

              When I tried to unscrew the nib unit, it felt unusually tight. This isn’t entirely new to me with resin sections and nib housings. In fact, it’s a recurring complaint I have with some pens that use resin sections; the housings can become incredibly difficult to unscrew, sometimes to the point where the nib and feed start moving instead of the housing itself. I’ve experienced this with my Conid Minimalistica as well as the Regular model with a resin section - even when silicone grease has been applied to the housing threads. Interestingly, this never seems to occur with metal-section pens, of which I own a few. It could be due to a combination of factors: ink residue accumulating between the housing and section, along with the subtle micro-shrinking of resin over time. Fountain pens do not seem to be entirely immune to the effects of age.

Over time, I’ve developed a home remedy that works reasonably well. I usually start by placing the pen in an ultrasonic cleaner with filtered water and a few drops of dishwashing liquid. In fact, I would recommend that anyone with a $100+ pen consider investing in an ultrasonic cleaner. The one pictured below cost me less than $35 and works quite well for small objects, including jewellery, eyeglasses, and, of course, pens - because nothing promises better weekend relaxation quite like deep-cleaning your fountain pens.

Once it’s cleaned with a 3-minute cycle, I would try to unscrew the housing again. If that doesn’t work, I heat water to about 70°C and leave the section in the warm water for 5-7 minutes. The idea behind it: the expansion rates of the housing and the section differ slightly, which should help loosen the housing, at least in theory. I have found this second technique particularly useful for removing stubborn, sealed sections on older Omas pens, Conid Minimalistica as well as for lubricating piston seals and realigning heat-set nibs.

             Coming back to the Florentine Hills, I had just cleaned the pen and began unscrewing the nib housing, which usually comes out quite easily with my Lava edition. This time, however, something felt off. To my considerable and rather unpleasant surprise, the entire section unscrewed instead. This was particularly concerning, as it is the very part that the hook-safe cap mechanism grips onto. It took me a moment to process what had just happened and a seemingly longer moment to accept it.

It took a Reddit post, along with removing the nib from my Homo Sapiens Lava edition, to confirm that the section had indeed come off and that my beloved pen now required servicing. 

Interestingly, the housing from the Homo Sapiens Lava Bronze edition came out almost effortlessly, with virtually no stress on the nib unit. I couldn’t help but wonder why there was such a difference. It appeared that the inner sleeve in the Lava version is metal, which might explain the disparity.

I also noticed that the yellowish-purplish material dangling from the inside of the green outer sleeve of the section was quite flaky. This appeared to be the adhesive that originally bonded it to the transparent inner section. It’s worth noting that the adhesive seems to be applied only to the upper portion of the green outer sleeve, the section with the larger diameter, allowing it to attach to the transparent inner section rather than the nib housing.

A BIT OF STUBBORN OPTIMISM

My passion for repairs and restorations

As part of my hobby, I’m fairly confident when it comes to opening up electronic devices and handling minor repairs myself. With fountain pens, however, excluding nibs (I’ve sacrificed enough of those to earn some experience), I tend to be more cautious about tinkering with components that could void the warranty.

So, I reached out to Visconti, and they are still getting back to me “shortly”. To be fair, their customer service has been quite good to me in the past, whether it was changing nibs (that’s a story for another day) on my Opera Master or replacing the cap on a travelling inkwell, among other things.

Given my day job around AI monetization, I’m also aware of the pitfalls of replacing customer service with autonomous agents - rules are rules, and escalation is often needed to reach a human. So when Visconti Italy replies in perfectly polished English but without any real resolution, I can’t help but wonder if I’m corresponding with an AI email assistant. Efficient, yes. Helpful - a question mark for what we call edge cases. It's also becoming ingrained in our daily lives -  I realise that even as I write this blog post, the app is suggesting grammar and language corrections.

                  I also contacted the person heading Visconti distribution here. He didn’t seem particularly optimistic, given the age of the pen, but did promise to check with the Italy office and get back to me. In any case, out-of-warranty service costs from Visconti would likely exceed the cost of an ultrasonic cleaner, glue, and other paraphernalia combined. So, I decided to take matters into my own hands. That said, I would strongly advise caution, if you’re new to fountain pens, don’t begin your repair journey with your Homo Sapiens or your Pelikans. Start somewhere less significant, emotionally and financially.

               While researching how to fix the section myself, I realised that regular glue wouldn’t work, the gap between the green outer sleeve and transparent inner section would remain, and ink leakage would be inevitable. I do have a box of O-rings, but they proved ineffective for this purpose during testing. Eventually, I concluded that an epoxy-based adhesive would be the best fit. I had no idea what an epoxy glue is, until this point. The most commonly available option is Araldite, though mixing it can feel like a chore. This led me back to my Reddit post, where user u/officedowntime shared their experience of reattaching a metal grip section on an Opera using B7000 adhesive - a clear, epoxy-based glue often used for jewellery as well. That comment turned out to be the star of the thread.

And a sincere thank you to u/officedowntime - proof that sometimes, the best repair manuals are hidden in Reddit/FPN comments.

FINAL PROCESS

Back to the current age

So, here is the process I followed. I also cleaned and serviced my Homo Sapiens Lava a bit more thoroughly.

1. Clean the section and other parts using a few drops of dishwashing liquid in an ultrasonic cleaner. Or, if you prefer the longer route, you can stand patiently by your washbasin with running water until you’re convinced the parts are absolutely spotless.
2. Remove any remaining traces of the old yellowish adhesive from the outside of the inner transparent section, as well as from the inside of the green outer sleeve.
3. Clean off the patina on the silver trims using an earbud with a drop of a silver polishing solution such as Klear Shine. Similarly, use a bronze/brass/copper cleaner (like Happi Planet) for the Homo Sapiens Lava edition, and then wipe everything with a damp cloth.
4. Apply a small amount of Nivea Cold Cream to remove the white spots from the HS Lava pen - because apparently, HS Lava appreciates the bit of skincare.
5. Allow all parts to dry thoroughly - this may take several hours.
6. Set aside the nib, feed, and housing for at least 24 hours, keeping them safely stored in a box.
7. Once the plastic section is completely dry, apply a tiny amount of silicone grease to the outer threads (which screw into the barrel) and lightly inside the barrel threads, using a toothpick. Spread evenly with your fingers if needed.
8. Tighten the inner transparent section into the barrel until you feel the first point of resistance.
9. Now for the important part: apply a very small amount of B7000 glue to the upper, visible portion of the inner transparent section using a toothpick. Keep the application narrower than you think necessary - the glue thickens quickly, and you will almost certainly need less than you expect.
10. Repeat the process for the green outer sleeve, using around two small drops of B7000 glue and spreading it evenly.
11. As the glue thickens within seconds, press the green outer sleeve firmly onto the section for about 2 minutes (follow the instructions on the tube). Remove any excess glue that seeps out near the section ring.
12. Leave the assembled section undisturbed for 24 - 30 hours to allow proper bonding.
13. After 24 hours, apply a small amount of silicone grease to the nib housing threads. If needed, you may also add a bit of grease to the piston end using a toothpick (reaching slightly into the barrel) before reinstalling the housing. Screw the nib unit back in until you reach the first point of resistance. That’s it.
14. Use a 20 - 30× loupe to check for misaligned tines and adjust gently with your fingernail if required. You may refer to notes by Richard Binder (link in references), if absolutely necessary. Minor misalignment can happen with tight sections - especially resin ones. I had to make a small adjustment to the Florentine Hills nib; the housing is still a snug fit.

Tada! the pen is ready to write. I enthusiastically tested both pens with Aurora Blue ink (my go-to test ink), and I’m happy to report that both are filling and writing beautifully again.

Thank you for spending your time on this blog - especially if, like me, you read these things out of sheer love for the hobby. It’s always satisfying to share something that might help someone else avoid (or at least survive) a similar “oops” moment.

You can find my other pen and paraphernalia reviews here.

OTHER REFERENCES

• Reddit - Visconti HS Lava Leaking Section
• Reddit - My Post
• My Silver Cleaner
• My Bronze Cleaner
• Link to Richard Binder's notes on Nib Smoothing

Pursuit of an almost elusive Omas 360

PRELUDE

The never ending search of NOS Omas-es

My love with Omas began with a dodecagonal (12-faceted) Omas Vision back in 2015. Like a fleeting teenage romance, it turned out to be as ephemeral as it was passionate, as the 90-year old company filed for bankruptcy the very next year, in 2016.

                            For years, I never managed to acquire another Omas ,until late 2024, when I crossed paths with Tom Westerich (penboard.de). This inadvertent meeting led me to acquiring a few more Omas pens: a beautifully fluted 2003 Ogiva from Tom, an Europa later from Regina (martiniauctions) and a 360 dating back from the 1990s to early 2000s, courtesy of Marco (penboard).

Now, I feel my pursuit for Omas pens has reached it’s conclusion though seemingly intelligent people who love ballpoint pens would see it as redundant. Among the pens, the 360 in Venice blue stands out. It came with a titanium emotica nib (semi-flex, by the way which original Omas nib isn’t!). Marco, in a gesture of old-school trust graciously refused payment until I received the pen and tested it, a courtesy likely extended because of my connection with Tom.

        The 360 seems to be a pen of legend, evoking tales of endless delight and occasional heartbreak from its end users. Nonetheless, I am going to exalt the 360 in this review and here is why!

HISTORY

The luxury of yesteryears now withered away

According to the listing, the pen came without a box but did include its original pen sleeve - sporting a matching blue color or rather, what remained of it after 30 years of loyal service. Back then, Omas wouldn’t have left a stone unturned, when it came to presenting their exquisitely crafted pens.

              The history of the 360 design is a fascinating tale, well-documented in this FPN comment. Apparently, in the 1990s, Omas was inundated with fountain pens sent in for nib repairs. The culprit? Users who apparently gripped the fountain pens incorrectly! Enter Miss Malaguti (refers to Raffaella Simoni, Armando Simoni’s daughter), who had a lightbulb moment: why not design a pen that forces users to hold it the right way. This stroke of genius led to the triangular 360, but it also created a new engineering challenge: how to cram their standard cylindrical piston mechanism into a triangular barrel. The solution? Stretch the pen’s size, making it significantly larger than Omas’s typical offerings. I discovered this firsthand when I held the 360 - it’s as big as the Scribo Feel, though without the heft.

DESIGN

An Equilateral Triangle

The Omas 360 (Venetian blue cotton resin), released in 1996, is often hailed as the brand's last major design innovation, featuring its iconic triangular body and grip. I’ll admit, the idea of a triangular grip never seemed convincing to me - at least not until I actually held the pen in my hands. For this 360, the trims are in fact sterling-silver, a finish Omas fancifully called "HT" (High Tech) which included rhodium plated trims. My 360 does get a patina over time which can be cleaned out easily.

        Even after three decades, the pen manages to dazzle - though now in the muted hues of Venetian blue. The triangular facets give the pen a unique sense of curvature, something absent from the dodecagonal Paragon designs. At the finials, the gentle curvature is so precise it feels like it was sculpted by a mathematician in love with parabolas. The trims are simple yet elegant: a thin triangular ring followed by a thick center band adorned with the Greek key, meandros. Notably, unlike the more modern Omas pens from the company's later years (pre-2016 closure), this band doesn’t have "OMAS" stamped within the motif. Closed, the final trim cleverly highlights the piston knob - a small but satisfying detail.

The cap is snap-fit and pulls off with ease. However, I do have a minor quibble with the two-stage snapping mechanism. There’s a slight wobble during the second stage of uncapping, though it does seem to minimize the risk of ink spillage - a trade-off, perhaps. In my experience with premium fountain pen snap caps, the spectrum of quality is wide. At the top sits Faber-Castell (GvFC), while Sheaffer Legacy sits firmly at the bottom, scratching entire sections with the kind of determination that makes you wonder if it’s intentional. (Pro tip: If you want scratches to feel like a design feature rather than a bug, go all-in like the Lamy 2000. No offense to L2K lovers - I’m one of you!) Omas 360 comfortably lands in the top 10 percentile of snap-cap designs, at least in my limited experience and collection.

     Even without a magnifying glass, the trims bear the subtle marks of 30 years of ageing, lending the pen a certain vintage charm. The friction-fit clip arcs gracefully, with a concave taper that’s as functional as it is beautiful.

Opening the cap reveals a delightful cross-sectional symmetry at the section’s end: a thin triangular ring followed by the signature Greek-key band. There’s a minor step as you transition to the section, but it never interferes with writing comfort. The triangular grip is smooth and intuitive, with its three planes acting as natural guardrails to ensure proper nib alignment. The pen does feel larger, albeit lightweight, compared to other Omas pens fitted with #6 nibs.

FILLING & CLEANING SYSTEMS

Piston Filler, Easy to use though difficult to service

The piston filling system features a sturdy, pyramid-like knob at the end, along with two tiny metallic circles. These are the exposed ends of a brass pin that secures the blind cap to the piston mechanism. The knob requires a respectable 4–5 turns to move the piston to its end stop, and the mechanism works smoothly, drawing up an around 1.2 ml of ink from the bottle. The difference in weight prior and post filling the pen was 1.18g.

Now, when it comes to lubricating the piston mechanism, things get a bit...tricky. Unlike the Paragon or Ogiva series, where you can simply unscrew the section and go to town with your silicone grease, the 360 makes you work for it. You’ll either need to carefully pull out the pin at the piston end or remove the heat-set nib from the other end. Both approaches require caution, patience, and possibly a bit of meditation beforehand. Secondly, it takes a long time to clean the pen, some ink just keeps coming out from nowhere.

NIB - ALL THAT MATTERS

Titanium Emotica

My Omas 360 is equipped with a Medium Titanium Emotica-series semi-flex nib, which feels remarkably similar to a well-tuned Conid Ti nib. The size "M" is discreetly marked on the wing of the nib, while the material composition is etched towards its tail. The OMAS branding sits within an oval, adorned with some scrollwork that looks definitely inferior to the gold nibs. Fortunately, the nib arrived perfectly tuned, and I’ve had no complaints so far.

The heat-set black ebonite feed ensures a generous ink buffer and an unapologetically wet ink flow. Ebonite, being hydrophilic, attracts water, unlike its hydrophobic plastic counterparts. This makes ebonite exceptionally efficient at delivering ink to the nib.

There’s also a charming difference between Omas feeds of different eras. The modern feeds (circa 2015) showcase symmetrical fins on their exposed surfaces, giving them a neat, precise look. In contrast, the older feeds (1996–2003) embrace a minimalist aesthetic, with a plain design.

PHYSICS OF IT – RELATIVELY SPEAKING

The Laws of Ms. Malaguti

Although there’s a step down from the barrel to the section, it never interferes with writing comfort. The pen is large, much like the Scribo Feel, and proves to be quite comfortable for extended writing sessions. And to top it off, there’s no room for confusion when holding the nib, thanks to the ingenious design by Miss Malaguti.

Below are the pictures along with a Scribo Feel and a Pelikan M200 for a comparative reference.

Here go the dimensions.

• Uncapped Length ~ 13.5 cm

• Total Length ~ 15 cm

• Exposed Nib Leverage ~ 2.5 cm

The weight of the pen is comforting even without the cap.

• Overall Weight ~ 26 g (inked, without cap ~16g)

WRITING & FINAL COMMENTS

Writes wet and elastically

The writing experience is beautiful - easily rivalling any well-tuned Bock Titanium nibs. Thanks to the natural springiness of titanium, this nib delivers an experience so delightful it’s a joy to ink the pen again.

The nib writes wet and doesn’t suffer from major drying-out issues. I did encounter one hiccup: after leaving the pen untouched for a month, it required to prime the feed. I simply placed it nib-down for 2-3 minutes. This seems to be a recurring quirk with older Omas NOS pens. While writing, there’s a faint feedback reminiscent of graphite on paper, barely noticeable with wetter inks. With moderate pressure, the nib flexes, tines parting well to increase ink flow. The line variation is satisfying without requiring excessive effort, though I approach this titanium nib with the care of someone handling a 14k gold nib’s more temperamental cousin.

On Endless Regalia 80 GSM paper with Scribe Indigo ink, the drying time clocks in at 40 seconds - another proof of wetness. While I’m not a die-hard flex writer, the line variation is pleasing enough to bring a smile to our face.

After 2–3 months of use, this pen has secured its place in my Omas rotation. One of the standout features for me is the long section, which offers a great level of comfort as you settle into your perfect grip. The Omas 360 might have started as a design experiment, but it’s proven itself as a reliable one.

Thank you for going through the review.

You can find other pen and paraphernalia reviews here.

REFERENCES

• Omas 360 Design

• Omas Bankruptcy

• Omas Ogiva disassembly

• Omas Paragon (non-metal section) maintenance

• ​​​​​​​Omas 360 maintenance

• Omas Art Vision Review (metal section Paragon maintenance)

• Scribo Feel Review

A quick preview of Kyuseido Kakari with double-stack reverse tousen grind

FIRST IMPRESSIONS

I finally got my hands on the almost famous Kyuseido Kakari. I chose the double stack nib, because I was enamoured by the idea of regular writing, and partly because I was fascinated by the psychology behind paying a bomb for a metallic brush. Jokes aside, with time & practice, I hope to use the broader side for calligraphy. My 3 year old wanted his airplane to be in the frame, even though it's not even 3 weeks old and you can already see the condition of the Beluga scale model. So here's the picture.

The Kakari is a handsome pen, vaguely reminding me of my Conid Kingsize demonstrator with titanium ends, although it has a completely different nib. The filling system with the hook-like structure, seems more mechanical and less sophisticated than a Conid, but I found its functionality to be quite the opposite. The cleaning process is somehwat superior to that of a Conid - two flushes and it's completely clean. Plus, it eliminates the need of a ink-breaker. Here is the exquisite work of art with the double stack nib. CY is quite an artist.

The reverse side of the nib, which is almost a BB-3B grind is incredibly smooth, with a generous ink flow enhances the experience. I am confident that the ebonite feed is well engineered to keep up with it.

My issue is with the regular writing side. It's a Japanese fine, but way too sharp for my taste. I prefer writing with nibs that offer some control. This one grips the paper fibres and leaves marks on it, even with a light touch. I had a word with Kyuseido team, they are happy to adjust and smoothen the nib. I understand CY is a one-man team handling the nib-work but I do still expect better QC than Visconti.

 

Last but not least, this is a lovely pen with its own pros and cons. In my not so humble opinion, it's quite different to a Conid! Paul's lovely review does more justice to the Kakari.

SOME WRITING