SEO title: Olympus Trip 35 Review: Still Worth Shooting in 2026? Meta description: The Olympus Trip 35 is one of the most iconic film cameras ever made — compact, battery-free, and surprisingly capable. A hands-on review from someone who dusted theirs off after years on the shelf.
The Olympus Trip 35 is one of the most beloved film cameras ever made — compact enough to slip into a coat pocket, smart enough to handle exposure by itself, and sharp enough to make you wonder why you ever bothered with anything more complicated. Over ten million were made between 1967 and 1984, and they’re still being shot today for good reason. Here’s an honest look at what it’s actually like to use one.
The one that sat on the shelf
I’ll be straight with you, Dear Reader. My Trip 35 has been sitting on the shelf for longer than I’d care to admit. It’s one of those cameras that you pick up, think “I really must use this more,” and then put back down in favour of whichever camera is currently calling to you. In my case, that’s usually the Pentax ME Super or the Mamiya C220 — neither of which fits in a coat pocket, which is rather the point.
So on a Sunday morning in late April I loaded a roll of expired Ilford FP4 — 2013 vintage, shot at 64 ASA — and drove out towards Remouillé and Viellevigne. A route I used to cycle twenty years ago. Past the tree I was going to work on at Le Moulin du Patis, then a right towards La Planche, and eventually down to a fishing lake on the road back. I wanted reflections. Mostly I just needed to get out of the house.
The Trip 35 came with me. The X100F stayed in the bag.
What is the Olympus Trip 35?
The Trip 35 was designed to be the camera you take on holiday — hence the name. Launched in 1967, it was Olympus’s answer to a very simple question: what if a camera just worked, without you having to think too hard about it?
The answer was a 40mm f/2.8 D.Zuiko lens, a selenium cell light meter that requires absolutely no batteries, and a fully automatic exposure system that gives you one of two shutter speeds: 1/40s or 1/200s. That’s it. You focus using zone symbols on the lens barrel — a portrait head, a small group, a mountain — and the camera takes care of the rest.
If there isn’t enough light, a small red flag pops up in the viewfinder to warn you before you press the shutter. It won’t fire (well, it will, but on manual override). It’s the camera’s polite way of saying: not today.
The lens
The 40mm D.Zuiko is genuinely excellent. It’s sharp across the frame, renders colours beautifully, and gives you just enough field of view to be useful for street photography without feeling uncomfortably wide. It sits between the “classic” 35mm and 50mm focal lengths, which sounds like a compromise but in practice feels just right for everyday shooting.
David Bailey famously used a Trip 35 for his street work in the 1960s and ’70s, which tells you something about what the lens is capable of when you put it in the right hands. I make no such claims about my own hands, but the camera is certainly not the limiting factor.
Out in the field
I shot mostly on the mountain zone setting, occasionally dropping to the group symbol for closer subjects. The shutter feels dainty — that’s the only word for it — a light, almost apologetic click compared to the satisfying thunk of a proper SLR. The whole camera feels light. Absurdly light. After years of carrying the Mamiya C220, it’s almost disconcerting.
I could hear crows. The faint sound of distant cars. Sunlight on the lake, sparkling. I found myself thinking about a similar morning walking around a lake in China, and a series I shot in May on the X100F. Photography as therapy. Not portfolio shots — I knew that going in, and it didn’t matter. Sometimes you just need to vibe with the stillness.
The zone focus takes a moment to get used to if you’re coming from a camera with a proper rangefinder or autofocus, but once it’s in your muscle memory it’s actually faster than it sounds. Mountain for landscapes and the lake. Group for anything closer. The camera handles the rest.
The automatic exposure handles most situations well. Where it can struggle is in high-contrast scenes — bright sky, dark water — where any automatic system is going to make compromises. But for even light and open countryside, it’s excellent. You point, you shoot, you trust it.
The selenium meter: the thing to check before you buy
This is the practical bit. The Trip 35’s selenium meter requires no batteries, which is one of its great selling points. But selenium cells degrade over time, and a meter that worked perfectly in 1975 may not be accurate in 2026.
Before buying one, test the meter. Point the camera at a bright scene and check that the aperture ring moves in response to the light. If it doesn’t move, or moves sluggishly, the meter may be on its way out. A dead meter doesn’t make the camera useless — you can shoot on manual using the Sunny 16 rule — but it removes one of the Trip’s main advantages.
Good copies are still findable, but prices have risen considerably as film photography has grown in popularity. Based on current listings, budget €70–135 for a solid working copy — basic tested examples start around €60–80, while good condition cameras sit at €100–135, and mint examples from Japan (plus shipping) push higher still. Parts-only cameras go for €40–60 if you’re handy and want a project. Recently serviced copies with new seals and leather will cost more, but save you a CLA further down the line. Test the meter before you buy either way.
Film choices
The Trip 35’s automatic system works best in good light. I shot expired Ilford FP4 (2013) rated at 64 ASA, developed in R09 at box speed — the slight overexposure compensating for twelve years of aging. Black and white suits this camera. The rendering feels right for country lanes and lake reflections. For colour, Kodak Gold 200 is a natural pairing on sunny days; Ilford HP5 pushed to 800 if you need to work in lower light.
The camera has a flash sync socket, so if you want to push into lower light with a small flash unit, that’s possible too. But honestly, the Trip 35 is at its happiest in daylight — it’s a holiday camera at heart, even if you’re using it to document a Tuesday afternoon in Nantes.
Is it still worth shooting in 2026?
Yes, unreservedly. The Trip 35 is one of those cameras that removes friction from the act of photography. You don’t need to think about exposure. You don’t need to carry a bag of accessories. You don’t need to worry about battery life. You just load a roll, go outside, and shoot.
That simplicity isn’t a compromise — it’s a feature. Some of my favourite shots from the last few years have come from cameras like this, where the act of not overthinking it has produced something more spontaneous and more honest than anything I might have captured with a more involved setup.
The shelf it was sitting on was my mistake. Not the camera’s.
Quick reference
- Lens: 40mm f/2.8 D.Zuiko (6 elements, 4 groups)
- Shutter speeds: 1/40s and 1/200s (automatic)
- Focus: Zone focus (1m, 1.5m, 3m, infinity)
- Meter: Selenium cell — no batteries required
- Film: 35mm, any ISO (set via ASA dial: 25–400)
- Produced: 1967–1984
- Second-hand price: ~€70–135 (working, good condition)
- Best for: Street photography, travel, everyday carry
If you enjoyed this, you might also like my reviews of the Olympus Pen EE and the Pentax ME Super — two cameras that share the same spirit of getting out of the way and letting you photograph.
