If you were a very good and studious, careful child, you were no doubt rewarded with a full tin of Caran d’Ache pencils. My eldest sister – such a girl – had a tin and man alive, there was hell to pay if any of those pencils was missing.
We’ve all forgotten about that Swiss pencil maker now, but the other day I located in my local snazzy accessories store, Future & Found, neon pink and orange Caran d’Ache ballpoint pens.
I picked up two, with the certainty of a fool blindly in love and went straight to the till. I only then found out that they were TWENTY-TWO POUNDS each. EACH! And I had to do that thing were you hide your utter horror at the cost from the girl at the till and just pay her the money.
But I am pleased I have them. Not only do they look just fucking excellent, they are easy to find and a real joy to use. I mean, like, they better had be for 22 quid.
I still have a tin of Caran d’Ache pencils. Had them for about 30 years. The ones you can wet and make your drawings that bit more exciting. Except I can’t draw. But I treasure the tin. Because it’s a tin.
I had a tin that my Dad brought back from a business trip and was fascinated that it opened backwards. The pens are amazing (I regularly get that shocked reaction with pens).
YES! My father bought (indefinitely borrowed) me a tin of Caran d’Ache pencils – he was an art teacher. Whilst the other kids fought for the felt-tips, I raided my pencil tin.
Pens great too.