I’m having a lapis lazuli period at the moment. Months can go by without sight of a lapis pen, then they come flocking in. I’ve had four in the last three weeks, which is a record for me. I’m especially fond of lapis lazuli, in all its surprisingly varied forms.

In the 1920s, as the potential of celluloid began to be understood and more adventurously developed, a vogue for gemstone-themed patterns began. Jade and lapis lazuli, the earliest examples of this trend, were never very true to the appearance of the gemstone, but were more patterns in their own right. A little later, Waterman’s patterns such as Red Quartz or Onyx were very close to the original. Not just pretty patterns, these gemstone colours were at the heart of the spirit of the time. The use of gemstone in statuette bases, desk sets, clock cases, bookends and the like is very much an Art Deco expression, and these pens formed part of the same taste. By the late thirties the fashion was largely over, but in the intervening years some of the most beautiful and striking celluloid pens were produced. Lapis lazuli, along with the rest, disappeared from the pen catalogues until recently, when it was brought back as a revival by several modern pen companies, most notably by Kaweco and Cross.

Parker, I believe, began the fashion. They had two main patterns, one dark blue with light blue inclusions, the other dark blue with off white inclusions. A third one is sometimes seen, a more marbled dark blue/light blue pattern, as in this Lucky Curve Parker Lady:

It was the one with the light blue inclusions that was copied most, and many manufacturers like Conway Stewart and Swan had versions. Here’s a classic example in an English Jewel pen:

Some, such as Swan, went for a blue and black streaked version, which seems to me pretty far from the gemstone original, but is nonetheless accepted as lapis lazuli:

As I’d never seen an example, either illustrated or in reality, I long believed that Swan didn’t make lapis lazuli pens. They do, of course, both in Leverless form and in their self-fillers. A Swan 230 in a good lapis pattern would be pretty much my ideal pen.

The most authentic-looking pattern I have seen so far is in an English no-name lever-filler flat-top:

That really does evoke the gemstone.

Though it doesn’t discolour as readily or as badly as some other celluloid patterns, like jade, black and cream or onyx, lapis lazuli can be spoiled by an out-gassing rubber sac, and should always be repaired using a silicon sac.

I had my say about black hard rubber the other day. Now let’s look at mottled hard rubber in its various forms including red ripple and woodgrain. Visually, MHR tends to survive in a more pleasing condition than may be the case with BHR. Yes, the blacks can fade but the pattern always remains clear. Often the surface has become dull, but a gentle polish with one of the usual proprietary polishes like simichrome will improve things. Even that abrades the surface a little, as you’ll see if you look at your polishing cloth, which will have picked up some colour from the pen. Myself, I prefer a non-abrasive solution like museum wax. It would always be my choice to stop at that. Any fading of the pattern is a reflection of the pen’s age. Unless it has spent the intervening years enclosed in a box, it isn’t reasonable to expect the pen to look as it did when it was new in nineteen-twenty-whatever.

Not every collector, user or restorer will agree with me, though, and that’s where radical solutions that I would reject come in. I only discuss them here because it’s better to cause less damage rather than more.

Restoring the original strong colours of the pattern can only be achieved by abrading the surface away. Metal-work such as levers, rings and clips must be removed. Imprints must either be sacrificed or saved at the cost of showing a different pattern colour from the rest of the pen. The surface of the material is evenly planed away using a medium grade of micromesh. Once an unfaded layer has been reached, successively finer grades are used to restore a smooth finish, and the pen can be reassembled.

Don’t try to do this with proprietary polish. Yes, polish is an abrasive, but it is a comparatively inefficient one, which is why we can use it on something as delicate as a fountain pen without causing damage – or at least visible damage. It won’t reduce the surface of MHR evenly, as an efficient abrasive like micromesh will. Using polish, the softer black areas will be reduced more than the harder red ones, producing an ugly, uneven surface which can only be repaired by further abrasion with micromesh.

As a conservative restorer, all of this falls outside what I do. Nonetheless, people do many things in the name of restoration, whether it be of paintings, buildings, motorcars or pens. Better that it be done properly if it is to be done at all.

Hard rubber is not especially fragile, except in the Red Hard Rubber form, which does merit particular care. MHR is little different from BHR in terms of strength, but it does get used for quite delicate pens, like the half-sized Watermans. Treat it with the respect you’d give to any old pen and you’ll be fine. Also, despite the surface, aesthetic effects of oxidisation, hard rubber is comparatively stable, more so than many celluloids or caseins, which were often poorly cured, or early injection-moulded plastics which had a tendency to shrink. Oxidisation does not weaken a pen; “curing” oxidisation by reducing component thickness may do. Remember, too, that the moment you have finished returning the pen to its original colours, the process of fading begins all over again.