My words of wisdom to a repeat customer shopping for her husband's birthday present who has already gifted the cufflinks at left: 

"You can never have too many monkey-themed cufflinks." 

Truer words have never been spoken.

I've spent two blog posts writing about the S.T. Dupont Neo-Classique Chinese Lacquer President Fountain Pen and I have yet to talk about how it looks. And upon seeing this pen in real life, there really is no way around one central fact: it's incredibly phallic.

How phallic is it? 

It's so phallic, when I opened the box, the first thought that came into my mind was: this is really phallic. The second thought was: I have to have one.

When I showed it to a loyal customer of ours and asked him the first word that comes to mind, without prompting, he said, "Phallic" (at least I know it's not just me).

Beyond the size, though, the pen is exquisite. It's black Chinese lacquer with palladium accents. Chinese lacquer is a living material that is resistant to handling and very  difficult to work with. Only a master lacquer maker with a long experience and a confirmed know-how can master the craftsmanship and the techniques involved in the processing of Chinese lacquer.

Most esoterically, I won't accidentally melt this pen with my cigar or lighter. S.T. Dupont's Chinese Lacquer does not melt, even when held over an open flame. I would suggest you try that with a Mont Blanc or a Cartier, except you'll melt your pen. I have no history of accidentally or intentionally melting pens, but it's nice to know this will be safe if lightning strikes.

Most superficially, it's also a fountain pen, which I prefer because everyone's penmanship looks better with a fountain pen. If you don't believe me, grab a ballpoint and a fountain pen and sign your name with each. I'd put money on which one you'll prefer. 

It is rare I'll spend three blog posts raving about a single product, but for some reason, I felt this pen worthy of the time. I apologize for the inconvenience.

Yesterday, we covered the historical events that have forged my strongly held belief about the value of using a fine writing instrument to seal a deal. Today, in Part II of III, I'll explain why I'm particularly enamored with the S.T. Dupont Neo-Classique Chinese Lacquer President Fountain Pen.

Hidden in the bottom of the pen, like you could only imagine in a James Bond movie (or Mission: Impossible, or Get Smart, or even Austin Powers) is a 4 GB USB key. That's right, the bottom of the pen comes off to reveal a USB drive.

Now, I've never been the type to keep a USB thumb drive on my keychain because the last thing I want in this world is more stuff in my pockets. At the same time, I can count hundreds of occasions where I've wanted to move a file or two between computers, and it usually involves emailing files from one account to another. And with the double-secret project On The Fly is working on now, there have been a few occasions where I have wanted to share the plans with someone but didn't have my computer with me. Now, I can just pull out my pen as they watch in disbelief.

In an ideal world, I'd keep all those same files "in the cloud" and there would be no need for things like USB drives. But until the day that Internet access is as ubiquitous as water or electricity, there will be a market for USB drives...and an even smaller market for the gentlemen that want their USB drives hidden in their pens.

In Part III of the series, I'll finally get around to describing the aesthetic features of the pen that I like, for there are many...

I would love to explain why this is my new pen in one blog post, but I think there's necessary historical context that needs to be established first. 

Almost every customer that has ever bought something in our San Francisco store has signed their receipt with a very nice pen (most recently, an S.T. Dupont Alligator Havana Pen). There is a very simple story behind my insistence on finalizing each sale with a proper flourish.

Years ago, I took some friends to one of San Francisco's finest restaurants: Charles Nob Hill (unfortunately, it no longer exists). This is the type of restaurant where each course involves 3 dishes, only 1 of which is really necessary to hold the food for that course. In other words, opulence.

The chef's tasting menu was probably 5-7 courses, and lasted close to 2 hours. Everything was excellent: the food, the wine, the service, the ambiance. The bill for three ended up around $1,000 (those were the dot-com days when you could barely get Chinese take-out for less than a C-note).

Then the bill came in the typical black leather folder accompanied by a white, plastic Bic pen. Dissonance was the word that first came to mind. Absolutely everything was best-in-class until that moment, which happened to come at the very end of the evening. As you can tell, it has stuck with me ever since.

I don't get to work on multi-million dollar deals anymore, but we do sell nice things. I want our store customers to leave remembering that everything was top shelf: the products, service, atmosphere, gift wrap, the business cards that double as emergency collar stays, the espresso we pour, and last but not least, the consummation of the sale. Now you know.

But that's just context. Tomorrow, I'll share the first reason why I'm enamored specifically with the S.T. Dupont Neo-Classique Chinese Lacquer President Fountain Pen...

As the proud owner of an iPhone and a MacBook, I honestly don't think I will personally need an iPad. But I've come up with a few excuses as to how we could use one in the store, so I may pre-order. 

Now, though, I may have a new rationale: it's what a Breguet fan would have done in the mid-19th Century:

http://www.crunchgear.com/2010/03/12/confession-i-pre-ordered-my-ipad-right-now-and-breguet-made-me-do-it/

I think with the title "Handsome Men's Club, I just assumed this Jimmy Kimmel skit would be cheesy. Instead, it's probably the 2nd funniest video related to "men's stuff" I've seen recently (top choice has to go to the new Old Spice commercial).

Link here if embedded video doesn't appear.