Writing a letter by hand is a lot like smoking a cigar. It takes time and imposes an unhurried, contemplative state.
It is as much about communication as the cigar is about nicotine intake: almost irrelevant, a by‑product.
Long‑distance communication is no longer a mystery or a marvel. We are simply drowning in channels of contact. But, a hurriedly typed WhatsApp is a mere nicotine patch to the Cohiba’s hand‑written letter. Elegant cursive script laid down on the page by the free, uninterrupted flow of ink is as satisfying a sight as the curls of blue smoke produced by a fine Havana cigar.
Similar to the cigar, the hand‑written letter has created an entire material culture of objects. Smoking would be much less fun if it were shorn of all the paraphernalia; the pouches, lighters, cutters, and humidors are half the pleasure.
Related article: Why Are Cigars Still a Status Symbol?
Likewise, the hand‑written letter has a vast backstory of accessories. The pen is a portal to the culture of the desk and its objects. Personalized stationery from Smythson and bespoke Montblanc pens are just the foothills of the true handwriting experience, the most basic of foundations upon which to build a new edifice of acquisition.
Letter racks, letter trays, pen trays, blotters, paper knives (I prefer vintage Cartier), pen pots (Tiffany did a great tin can in silver) with large letter clips (I have a very interesting mid‑century confection of box calf and brass from Hermès), paperweights (I use everything from a large bronze star decorated with the hammer and sickle to a silver ingot fashioned by the great silversmith Gerald Benney), and specialized leather pads upon which to write.
If you want to go fully analog you’re going to need a desk calendar and a desk clock, and I’m even wondering whether to invest in a desk seal and sealing‑wax holder.
“It’s all about curating your desk as a creative playground,” says Montblanc artistic director Marco Tomasetta. “We want to continue to elevate that personal space, to make it beautiful, tactile, and inspiring.” I am far better at smoking cigars than writing letters: even the most beautiful, tactile, inspiring, and playful of deskscapes is incapable of improving my handwriting. So, once I have committed a letter to the tender mercies of the Royal Mail, I usually send a digital message to help decode my hieroglyphic scratchings.
