
When Alan Jay Lerner composed this song in 1956 for the musical “My Fair Lady,” he may not have realized the meteorological folly of his lyrics. The rain in Spain does NOT stay mainly in the plain, as Professor Henry Higgins and Eliza Doolittle triumphantly rhapsodize, but in fact falls primarily in the lush mountain regions of Northern Spain – Galicia, Asturias, Cantabria and the Basque Country. Predominantly with a maritime climate, these areas are characterized by fog, rainfall and cloudy days, and any one who undertakes the Camino hike at this last stage of the “French” route is likely to have a showery pilgrimage.
And so it was that our recent trek along the Camino leading to the Santiago de Compostela (the capital of Galicia) was marked by chilly, biting rain for the most part, turning the 110-kilometer footslog from Sarria to the Cathedral of St. James into a cold and cloudy journey across forest trails, hilly slopes and ancient Roman roads. Drenched by intermittent showers and strong gusts of wind for several days, we finally emerged onto the Plaza de Obraidoro on a surprisingly cool and sunlit day, weary and exhausted, but grateful that we had completed our quest.
And when in Spain, any pilgrim with a predilection for pens always plunges into another pursuit – the search for a grail writing instrument, in this case the rarefied limited edition Inxocrom “Caravel 1920.”
In 1992, Barcelona-based Inoxcrom (a portmanteau of the Spanish words “inoxidable” and “cromo,” or “stainless steel”) embarked on a new design that, unwittingly or not, evoked the iconic Montblanc “144,” the “145,” the “Classique,” the “Traveller” and other similar models. Founded in Barcelona by Manuel Vaque Ferrandis in 1942, the Spanish pen maker initially only manufactured nibs, until it expanded into branded writing instruments eight years later. Deciding to create a flagship model in the Nineties, Inoxcrom produced the same cigar-shaped form in black resin, an eerily similar clip and two-tone nib, a screw-on cap with three gold-plated rings (the middle ring wider than the other two), and a ring at the turning knob (even if it was not a piston-filler). And before long, a storm was brewing in the horizon. Montblanc, possibly the most counterfeited fountain pen in the world, felt that the design of the “Caravel 1920” was strikingly similar to its “144,” and had overstepped the bounds of mere flattery onto outright infringement of copyright, and therefore proceeded to launch legal action. You might say Inoxcrom was stealing their thunder.
To avoid prosecution, Inoxcrom went through various design innovations, taking out one of the three cap bands, replacing the threaded cap with a slip-on, using a single-tone nib, and reducing the overall girth of the next generation “Caravel II 1920.” In the meantime, the controversial original model disappeared from the market within the same year of its introduction, elevating it to legendary status among Spanish collectors, until its beginnings eventually became shrouded in mystery.
Yet, despite the uncanny resemblance of the Sailor “1911” and Platinum “3776” to the “Meisterstuck,” Montblanc did not similarly denounce these Japanese manufacturers for plagiarism. The German firm was perhaps prepared to be imitated in the Far East, but could not risk a similar-looking European-made pen of equal quality but selling at a much lower price point.
Given the short-lived debut of the “Caravel 1920,” the search for a specimen was like chasing rainbows. Driving in Northern Spain through Ovieda, Santillanes, Comillas, Santander, Bilbao, Donostia-San Sebastian and Pamplona, all pen dealers I sought didn’t have the foggiest idea where to source it, and I was about to accept that my search was dead in the water. I was in a dry spell, until I located Julia Gusano, a vintage pen dealer for the last 40 years who had set up her shop – Trade Art Sociedad Limitada Almoneda – at No. 84 Calle Zurbano in Madrid.
The amiable Espanola regaled me with tales of the enigmatic Spanish pen maker, and then produced a boxed and magnificently preserved specimen of the object of my pursuit – the now-obscure Inxocrom “Caravel 1920.” Dip-testing the pen produced a smooth and flowing script from a nib that was actually more substantial than the Montblanc’s, and with an overall feel that was just as hefty. Absent the transparent ink window and the finial’s insignia, it was difficult to tell the two pens apart, and the Inoxcrom’s acquiescence to withdraw its flagship brand from the market only served to create a demanding, if not delightful, challenge to the collecting community at large.
Two weeks before that day, I had completed my pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela despite the rough terrain, constant rains and cloudy skies. But on this fateful day, I had also finished my quest for a truly collectible pen, and I was on Cloud Nine.
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