A little bit of history When OMAS collapsed, many a tear was shed – and many a huckster worked hard to purloin the brand. Some have occasionally claimed success in doing so, although it never seems to amounts to much more than a lacklustre product with a familiar logo. But the core values of well-turned pens made from classy materials sporting positively aphrodisiacal nibs live on in Scrittura Bolognese. Write Here, in Shrewsbury, have been commissioning special editions from them for a few years now, and this is the first to feature a translucent barrel so that some of the magic is on view. Inevitably, we all wanted to put it through its paces. 
How it looks It looks a lot like a distilled leopard, in short – at which point we should add that this is a vegetarian sort of pen (even if it inspired Dappr to nibble a zebra) and the image really is just that. But our panel were all struck by how much prettier this pen is in the, err, flesh. Even for those of us not given to favour brown pens all that much, it’s won fans wherever it has travelled. 
How it feels Light, warm, and springy – the latter being a lot to do with the Extra-Flex nib, about which more in just a moment.
How it fills This is a piston-filer, as is the norm with most Scribo models (apart from the Piuma), and it fills fairly easily with a decent quantity of ink which, unusually, is visible within the workings. The temptation to fill it with a complementary shade has proved very strong; even Mr Teal didn’t put turquoise in this one, and another contributor bucked the trend with a disturbing absence of purple. If you like orange ink, though, this is the bee’s knees – and looks like them, too. 
Crucially, how it writes… The Fine Flex nib is a joy, and by general consensus the nearest thing to a vintage wet noodle on the market today – even to the point, shockingly, that some of our reviewers prefer it to the Pilot FA nib. So how it writes is curvaceously, and wet. This is not a pen which scratches and blots on the page so much as one which aesthetically drools all over it. 
Pen! What is it good for? Unlike the popular Lamy, you won’t want to take this on safari; it’s a lovely, lovely pen, but the elephant in the room is that this is categorically unsuited to the rigours of the Serengeti. The Africa is made of somewhat delicate materials and the nib needs careful handling, so it is strictly one for enjoying in the library at home, possibly with a glass of Amarula in the other hand and Toto on the stereo, although the ambience is optional.
VFM Bologna doesn’t make cheap pens, and this is no exception. Half a grand is a heap of dough for a writing implement and we probably wouldn’t suggest that anyone completely new to proper pens starts here; it helps to have a bit of experience before taking on a nib this flexible, for a start. But if you want something really special, this is arguably a decent bargain given that a certain well-known German brand will charge you twice as much just for the honour of turning a fairly boring black pen a slightly less boring red. If this is the perfect pen for you, it will probably be worth raiding the piggy-bank.
The only way is ethics It’s made in the European Union, so we’re confident about labour practices, and it hasn’t travelled too far to get here either. Subjectively, we very much doubt it will break your heart.
If this isn’t quite your cup of tea, but almost… Realistically, the only nib anything like this comes in a different Scribo. The Write Here special editions change material roughly once a year, so you don’t have to wait too long for something visually different (although, conversely, if you love the Africa you’d better get your skates on). Or, of course, there are other, less cylindrical, Scribo shapes.
Our overall recommendation Try one in the hand if you can, save up for a while if you need to – and whatever you do, don’t Google that Toto video.
Where to get hold of one Write Here is the only place you’ll find this, but if you can’t get to Shrewsbury it’s also available online.
This meta-review references:
- Copperhobnob’s big inky review
- Scribble Monboddo’s hand-written review
- Dapprman’s text-and-pics review
- Mr. Teal’s video review
Thanks to Write Here for the review sample
How it feels Solid, grippy and, thanks to aluminium construction, fairly light. That said, balance is a personal thing and this seems to suit those who particularly like medium-length pens best. Fans of small pocket pens may find it a touch over-long for perfect balance and, conversely, full-size pen afficionados may feel it’s a bit on the short side. Much comes down to personal preference, with this one.
How it fills This is the converter version of the Kitsune, which tells you most of what you need to know. There’s space for a full size converter, and a blind cap which twists off at the back end to make refilling a touch simpler. The resulting ink capacity is a bit of a step up from the tiny converters which fit small pocket pens, too.
VFM It took us a little while to test this design, and the exact model is no longer on sale. But the Pocket Fox is similar, with a shorter international cartridge, for around £100 to £110 usually – not bad for a hand-made pen with an interesting finish and Geordie bragging rights.
The only way is ethics It’s made by a human being who you can contact and have a chat with first, right here in Blighty, and packaged responsibly. What’s not to like?
If this isn’t quite your cup of tea, but almost… Go shorter or go longer, in, err, short. The cut-down version is now known as the ‘Pocket Fox’ and looks the business in all sorts of finishes. Fans of longer pens may prefer the gracefully curved Tombo, meanwhile.
Our overall recommendation Find the right balance for you, then take the plunge.
How it looks It looks much like any other Sport but in a pair of rather sophisticated colours, and with ‘Kaweco Collection’ proudly displayed on the side of the barrel. No complaints there; if you’re a Sport fan, you probably want already simply after looking at these pictures – and that’s rather the brand’s plan.
How it feels Small, and light. As usual, the aluminium version feels a touch more robust, but far from heavy. Like you’d expect a Sport to feel, really; the difference is all visual.
How it fills As ever, syringe-filling a small international cartridge would be our tip. There is a tiny push-rod converter, but the ink runs out so quickly that scope for frustration is considerable.
Crucially, how it writes… Generally, pretty well. The quality control on the steel nibs has improved in recent years, and for the pricier aluminium version any Bock 060 nib can be screwed in if you fancy a change. There’s even a gold option, should pushing the boat out that far be on the agenda. We stuck with the standard steel M, probably the most popular option, for this test and the results were encouraging. 
Pen! What is it good for? The Sport’s natural home is in your pocket, of course, but these two specials were also made for showing off, so it’s up to you. Generally we’d suggest these are for leisure use rather than business, but who are we to dictate?
VFM The plastic Mellow Blue will set you back about £25, which is quite fair value, and the swisher aluminium Iguana Blue more like £70 – not crazy money at all, but it makes sense to try an ‘entry level’ Sport to check out whether the format works for you first.
The only way is ethics These are made in Germany with decent labour conditions, and Kaweco haven’t gone crazy with the packaging, so things look healthy on the ethical front.
Our overall recommendation These will sell like the proverbial hot cakes; if either takes your fancy, get it quickly!
Where to get hold of one All your favourite fountain pen specialists are likely to have these in stock – as long as they last.
This meta-review references:
How it looks Actually, they came up with two Originals, with very different nib sizes. The smaller version uses the diminutive short #5 060 Bock nib familiar from the Sport and Lilliput models, which unfortunately looks a little stunted in a long pen like this. The larger Original, though, uses a nice big #6 250 nib which looks in proper proportion – a bit like a scaled-up Sport, keeping the distinctive octagonal profile which is something of a Kaweco calling card. 
How it feels Both Originals feel solid yet, thanks to aluminium construction, not terribly heavy. On the whole, robust but usable. 
How it fills An obvious advantage over the Sport is that the Originals have room for a full-size converter, and Kaweco have maximised that gain by threading the inside collar of the section to allow for a screw-in converter, helpfully also available from Kaweco in a range of colours. For reasons which remain a mystery, we chose purple for our test units, but retailers might be well advised to provide a converter as standard; it’s a much more ‘premium’ experience filling up with ink from a proper bottle, and being able to prime a feed with a quick twist of the converter can help when inks prove to be a little on the dry side. 
Crucially, how it writes… As ever that depends upon the nib fitted and the ink too, but we had a varied experience with our test units. The tiny 060 had an EF nib which struggled to lay enough ink down really, but as we’d probably elect to upgrade to a more fitting Bock 076 (sadly not yet available in Kaweco branding) anyway, perhaps that’s not the end of the world. The larger 250 had a B tip which surprised several of our reviewers with how well it performed as a ‘daily driver’, so that looks like the winner. 
Pen! What is it good for? These might be a bit pricy for a school pen, but they are robust enough to serve as a daily driver for a more grown-up writer. 
VFM At a ‘street price’ close to £100 for the #6 version these are not cheap, to be honest, so our tip would be to buy from a bricks-and-mortar shop where you can try a number of nibs and get the one which really works for you. It needs to be usable to be worth the money, at this price point. 
The only way is ethics Made in the EU, and packaged sensibly, there’s little to worry about on this front. 
If this isn’t quite your cup of tea, but almost… If the 060 nib just looks a bit short, fitting an after-market 076 will probably help. If you like the 250 version but for some reason just don’t dig a polygonal cross-section, Kaweco’s smoothly cylindrical Supra may be more your thing. 
Our overall recommendation For people who enjoy brief scribbles with a Sport but want something similar but a bit larger for extended writing sessions – and that might be rather a lot of us – one of the Originals could well be the answer. But given that the right nib makes a big difference, we’d recommend trying them out in the flesh first. 
Where to get hold of one It’s a fairly new model at present but most fountain pen shops are likely to consider this soon. Buying in person looks less hassle than online purchasing given the possibility of a bit of nibular trial-and-error.
Thanks to Kaweco for the review samples. 
A little bit of history Much as we all mourn OMAS, ink wasn’t their strong point. Their spiritual heirs, Scribo, have apparently set out to correct that. We put the whole range to the test.
How it looks This is a big range, and the different components deserve detailed attention:
Thanks to Write Here for the samples
Quite a mountain of history, actually Back in the 1970s, steady-state Luddites fought against two intellectual movements and lost twice, first to the constant expansion of the universe and then, down here on Earth, to plate tectonics. But our story starts about half a million years ago when the slow-motion collision of the African and Eurasian plates caused the growth and repeated eruptions of a stratovolcano known to successive civilisations as Etna. It’s held a place in myth and legend ever since, including as the prison of the monstrous Typhon, and as the source of much of Sicily’s soil has been ruled over by Greeks, Carthaginians, Romans, the offspring of King Rollo (no, really) and, for a brief but toothsome interval, a revolutionary squashed-fly biscuit. Etna also chucks out plenty of lava, of course, and Visconti gamely set out to make something of it. 
How it looks The classic Homo Sapiens look is a black basaltic tube with a few metal rings and the signature Visconti bowed clip. If it’s under-stated in its usual dress it can be a lot more exotic as a special edition, and we were lucky enough to get our hands on a curious ‘special’ indeed, the Evolution – which looks like a Klingon tool for signing instantly broken peace treaties. 
How it feels Sizeable, fairly hefty but not ridiculously heavy, for most of our reviewers. Most is not all, mind; at least one of our panel put the pen on the scales and declared it too weighty to live with. The clever bayonet closure (NB, not present on the Evolution) makes for a comfortable grip, though, and the weight is well-distributed. Visconti makes bold claims about the barrel material being hydroscopic, so that it still has a grip in sweaty hands, and although this is perhaps better tested in the summer it does seem to work quite well in practice. 
How it fills This is a vacuum-filler, and it sucks in a voluminous gulp of scribbling juice without much effort on the user’s part. There’s no way to use cartridges, of course, but if you’re in the market for a pen this pricey a bottle of decent ink is unlikely to exceed the budget. 
Crucially, how it writes… Now here hangs a tale. Originally, the Homo Sapiens employed palladium nibs which proved notoriously difficult to tune (and harder still to keep in trim). Our duo exemplifies recent alternatives; a usually well-behaved and slightly bouncy gold nib or, for the Evolution, a tubular steel nib which is firm but smooth. A pleasure on either count, although they are very different beasts. The gold nib on our test pen afforded some hard starts to a couple of reviewers, but not to the degree that made writing impossible – and as it flowed adequately for others ink choice may be a critical factor there. Another vital Homo Sapiens tip, which we wish Visconti would tell people directly, is to undo the blind cap a couple of turns before staring to write; this seems to reduce the risk of drying-up considerably.
VFM These are very good pens, no doubt, but compared to other premium Italian offerings the value proposition is sometimes perhaps a little dicey. The Evolution tipped over into four figures, and that’s hard to justify for a steel-nibbed pen, however artistically assembled. Choose with care. 
The only way is ethics These are made in Italy and (unless someone gets a really harsh cut of the fee) no-one’s being under-remunerated at this price. If you can afford one, enjoy it with a clear conscience!
If this isn’t quite your cup of tea, but almost… There are new special editions of the Homo Sapiens out most years. Bide your time, save up, and pounce as soon as you see one you like. Or, if you want a posh pen from a different part of Italy, Scribo and Pineider may have a competing claim upon your attention. 
Our overall recommendation Try one in the hand, if you can – but if you love it, that’s your pocket money spent for a while!
This meta-review references:
A little bit of history We’ve reviewed the Perkeo before, so
How it fills There’s space for a brace of small international cartridges in the barrel, or a full-sized converter, which really looks the business in the demonstrator version.
