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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.

Black and white film photograph of a weathered wooden fence post with wire insulators, flat fields behind, Vendée.

Black and white film photograph of a lake seen through trees, soft reflections on still water, La Planche

Black and white film photograph of two joggers running along a lakeside path through trees, La Planche

Black and white film photograph of three tree trunks at the edge of a lake, La Planche

Black and white film photograph of two trees beside still water with a soft atmospheric quality, La Planche

Black and white film photograph of a farm track leading toward a tall poplar tree, Vendée countryside.

Black and white film photograph of two bare tree trunks at a lakeside, surrounded by leafy trees, La Planche, Vendée.

A single wooden post stands in perfectly still water, its reflection extending directly below, framed on either side by low vegetation at the bank. The most minimal and considered frame on the roll — and the best argument for leaving the house with a pocket camera.

Black and white film photograph of a narrow water channel through trees with a bright sky reflection at the end

Black and white film photograph of textured tree bark in the foreground with a lake visible behind, La Planche

Why the Olympus Pen EE-S Is the Best Budget Film Camera for Beginners (Even in 2025)

Pentax 17 fever is sweeping the film photography world, and I’ll admit, I was tempted. Half-frame cameras, with their promise of double the shots per roll, sound pretty amazing. But with a price tag of 500€, the Pentax 17 isn’t exactly within my budget. That’s when I rediscovered a little gem tucked away in my camera collection: the Olympus Pen EE S.

This Japanese-made half-frame beauty hails from the 1960s, the same era as the beloved Olympus Trip 35. Like its sibling, the Pen EE S features zone focusing and a selenium cell meter for fuss-free shooting. The lens is an F2.8 22.5mm Zuiko lens. The ISO settings go up to 200 ASA, unlike the Olympus Trip which goes up to 400 ASA. So, despite everything else, it needs light. The half-frame format means you get a whopping 48 exposures on a standard 24-exposure roll. That’s double the shots for your buck, folks!

Now, the idea of twice as many photos for the same developing cost is pretty appealing. But does the Olympus Pen EE S deliver the goods in practice? Stay tuned as I put this vintage camera through its paces and share my findings. Could this be the perfect half-frame hero for those of us who can’t quite swing a Pentax 17? Let’s find out!

Well, for starters, it felt very much like using the Olympus Trip 35. It’s very slightly smaller and weighs next to nothing. The shutter button is almost identical as well. Instead of having four zones for focusing, you have three, but it’s fine, and when you turn the dial, you feel a click as you enter a new zone. You point, and then press. Simple!

Let’s talk about this half-frame shooting experience. When talking about the Pentax 17, “they” talk about how the images are great for sharing on social media. A little like using your phone… This is the mindset that I had when putting in my Kodak Gold 200 to capture those famous Kodak moments in Nantes.

I found it a challenge to get used to the half-frame. “They” say that you have to take your photos as diptychs and remember that the two photos in your full frames are related, not just simple images. The idea is that when the two half frames are put together, you create a story and a suite of ideas, instead of two separate photos. I tried, and the results will show you if I succeeded. I felt that “they” were pulling my leg!

I’ll be honest with you. The idea behind the outing was to test the camera, see how I felt using it, and have a look at the results. It took me out of my comfort zone, which is something rare in photography for me. I was thinking about taking it to the UK with me to record the trip. It takes up next to no space in a camera bag and would allow me to shoot some film while back home. The idea of getting twice as many shots by using just half the frame is attractive. I’m just getting used to the reduced coverage that you get with just using half the frame.

For this outing, I decided to head out towards the Cathedral, and takes some shots of the Voyage à Nantes.

I found myself thinking differently about framing my shots and using my phone as a mental template. As for the resolution of my images, they will be half as much as using my full frame, but were I to print my photos, then I would definitely see a difference. But if they’re just for sharing on social media, then the resolution will be perfectly satisfactory.

The million-dollar question is, will I take it on my trip, and will I use it? Yes, I will. Will it be my main camera? Possibly not. Will it be more like using a new toy? Possibly, even if the toy in question is a vintage 1966 toy…

Here’s what I’ll do. I’ll put some images taken on the X100F, my more modern toy, and let you see how they compare. You’ll see the diptychs and see how the different shooting styles change the outlook and how they change the framing.

These are the X100F photos with editing in Snapseed…

A garden fountain in Nantes photographed on a Fujifilm X100F, shot as a digital reference alongside the Olympus Pen EE-S

Close-up of a garden fountain in Nantes, shot on a Fujifilm X100F as a digital reference comparison to the Olympus Pen EE-S

A large tree in a Nantes garden photographed on a Fujifilm X100F, used as a digital reference alongside half-frame film shots from the Olympus Pen EE-S

The old master's house in Nantes photographed on a Fujifilm X100F, shot alongside Olympus Pen EE-S half-frame film images for comparison

A view through a stone arch toward the cathedral entrance in Nantes, photographed on a Fujifilm X100F as a digital reference

Close-up of an ornate iron fence in Nantes, photographed on a Fujifilm X100F alongside Olympus Pen EE-S half-frame film shots

A view through a stone arch toward the Place Saint-Pierre in Nantes, photographed on a Fujifilm X100F as a digital reference comparison

And these are the half frame images from the Pen EE S… with the editing done in Photoshop using the neural filters to get rid of the scratches on the film.