15 August 2006

Cliff Diving

Being the crazy risk-taker I am, I decided this morning that I may, possibly, conceivably, contingent upon further consideration and analysis, pull the trigger on purchasing a Mini Domino. In red, because I am not afraid of my flaming femininity:

This potential purchase entails several kinds of insanity: (1) abandoning leather snobbery and purchasing a vinyl product in the interest of frugality; (2) telling my wife that I have purchased a third Filofax; (3) committing to its use without a totally clear idea of how best to deploy it; and (4) subjecting myself to further accusations of being a purse-carrying pantywaist.

I like the fact that the Domino doesn’t have a bulky snap closure. The snap closure is fine for a product that stays in my bag. But if I hope to carry something around in my pocket, the rubber band is perfect. (Dare I say, Moleskine-esque.)

I like the fact that I will be able to transplant pages from the Domino to my A5 binder. I’ll probably fill it primarily with blank paper, and maybe some project/task pages too.

I like the fact that it has ½-inch rings. Slim. Svelte. Just like I wish I was. (See, Filofax can be a role model too.)

I like the fact that it costs only $20.

I like the fact that it will remove one item from the very long list of excuses I give myself for not doing more writing – Unavailability of paper.

Will it gather dust like so many other purchases in my life that have, at one time or other, seemed to promise me deep happiness and salvation? Who knows? But I’ll still try it. That’s how crazy I am.


  1. How I love to look at new binders for my Filo. I already have a few collecting dust and they did make me feel happy for the longest time. That's why I keep them, maybe I want to reuse them again when it hits me that I need to restructure my whole planner. Nothing crazy about that. (I also have an obsession for Moleskines, pens, pencils and knitting patterns).

  2. As both a collector and user of Filofaxes I don't really count them (if pushed I've got about 50) but in terms of being a user I decided some time ago to standardise only on the classic (Personal) size. My thinking is as follows: once you have different sized leaves you'll inevitably start duplicating information which defeats the whole point.

    Second, there is a chance you'll be stuck with a dud leaf size like the version 2 Deskfax which had 3 sets of rings, or the ill-fated M2, or the original Pocket size. Although Filofax still makes a small range of leaves for them, they'll eventually vanish as they did for the original Deskfax (1985-1988).

    As another point I wouldn't be overly concerned about whether the binder is leather or not; my 1990-vintage "Zeppo" is better quality than anything in Filofax's current range as it was made by expert English craftsmen rather than being knocked-out on some anonymous production line wherever Filofax can source them cheapest.

    PS:A few posts ago I commented on what I thought was the rather gimmicky nature of Filofax's pink coloured diaries. I was browsing through some of my collection of old leaves and too my surprise this is an old idea; I have in my hands a quanitity of Filofax paper in marbled pink and grey dated 1985 with the refs 880 and 881 respectively.

  3. Oh, Kevin, there are go making us all envious again. 50 handcrafted Filofaxes?? My heart's melting!

    I remember the marbled paper, too! I think I had some brown marbled (or did they call it "clouded"?) paper that looked really great in my brown pigskin binder.

    The less-expensive, synthetic binders may be attracting new Filofax users who would have been put off by the price, but in an ideal world we'd still have craftsmen (maybe even craftswomen) making them, too.

  4. Susanne -- I'm a knitter, too. Well, a sometime knitter. I've posted some pictures of a project I was working on earlier this year on my flickr page. The set is called Prayer Shawls.


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