vintage photography gear Archives

I often find myself discussing the concept of “vintage” with my father during our phone calls. I live in France, while my parents are in Northumberland. The term means different things to different generations. For my 25-year-old son, vintage clothing is anything from the 90s, he even wears a few of my old sweaters from that era. At 52, I’m starting to think of myself as slightly vintage too. And to my 15-year-old daughter, my father, who grew up during the war, must seem positively ancient.

A camera from the 1990s feels relatively modern to me, while those from the 70s and 80s seem older but not quite ancient. Using these older cameras forces me to slow down and be more deliberate. Each shot becomes a considered act rather than a reflex, and there’s something satisfying about that slower pace, even if the cameras themselves aren’t the latest technology.

My own “vintage collection” began with an SLR from the 1980s: an East German Praktica MTL3 that served me faithfully until 2009. After it finally gave up, I quickly replaced it with another. From there, I explored more iconic cameras from the 1970s and 1980s, back when they were still relatively affordable, before the hipsters discovered film photography and the prices started rising.

My exploration didn’t stop there. I began to seek out cameras from the 1960s and even the 1950s. The oldest camera in my collection dates back to 1949! It’s quite vintage, even for me, though perhaps not so much for my father. Each piece is a link to a past era, a tactile connection to history that digital tools can’t replicate.

There was a time during the digital age when people tried to recapture the film aesthetic, and right on cue, apps like Hipstamatic, Instagram, and VSCO turned up. They embraced the nostalgic look of film, but it’s never quite matched the real thing.

Which led me to a simple thought: if I wanted that film aesthetic, why not use actual film and cameras from the eras I admire? I’ve always been drawn to old things, having loved exploring a special drawer at my grandmother’s house filled with genuine relics. My fascination with older technology, particularly when it’s still functional, has never gone away.

So just because something’s old doesn’t mean it doesn’t still work, and it might open up a whole world you didn’t know existed. It can be a bit quirky, but once you get past that, the world’s your oyster.

Welcome back, dear reader, to another delve into the Film Archive from before this wonderful blog that I know you enjoy reading so much. I appreciate being able to share these photos with you in the hope that they may not only please you but also offer insight into an older form of photography, one where concerns about overheating or battery life were minimal. I want to demonstrate how it is still possible to achieve great results with any camera and that the main quality in your photography comes from you, the photographer.

Earlier this year, I was there with my Canon 6D Mark II, but today, we’re revisiting my visit from September 2016. At that time, I didn’t have my Canon, but I did have the Olympus Trip 35 with HP5 Plus film from Ilford. I used that camera quite a lot that summer and continued to use it in September. I might just have to dig it out of my camera cupboard and use it again. Constraints and minimal kit often lead to more creative decisions—just think back to my UK trip, where I only had my X100F with me.

Let’s start with the camera. It’s a small but gorgeous camera designed for the mass market in the 1960s and was still being produced in the 1980s, which attests to its appeal among casual photographers. With relatively few controls, it’s pretty foolproof. I can adjust the film ASA setting, and the selenium cell housed with the lens takes care of the rest, whether it’s aperture or shutter speed. The famous red flag appears in the viewfinder when the camera senses insufficient light. All I need to do is set the focus zone.

I must have bought mine around 2015 or 2016, and it was quite affordable at the time—no more than 50€. It was an iconic camera then and still is today, but as the supply of these cameras dwindles, prices have increased. You can now expect to pay 100€ or more, with some models even reaching nearly 200€. It remains a great camera but might be a victim of its own success, along with sellers’ optimism and greed. Buyer beware—shop around, and you might still find more accessible prices.

As for film, prices have also risen, especially for Kodak film, but Ilford remains affordable, as do Kentmere, Fomapan, and Rollei.

I’ve travelled the same road numerous times, and it always brings me a certain sense of peace. I tend to stop off at familiar spots along the way, and those of you with an eagle eye will recognise some of these locations from other photos in this blog.

But why go to Noirmoutier? Firstly, why not? It’s just over an hour’s drive from my home and is a popular destination for many locals from the Vendée. The island now suffers from overtourism, which has certainly changed its character since 2016. Efforts have been made to manage the flow of tourists, with improvements such as parking, pedestrian zones, clearly marked hiking trails, and numerous bike lanes. It’s a beautiful part of the world, so typical of the Vendée Coast with its pinède and long beaches. However, not everything is about tourism. The island is also renowned for its salted butter made with salt from local salt marshes and the famous potatoes from Noirmoutier. Additionally, there’s a small fishing fleet, as well as the fleet from Le Port du Bec in the neighbouring Beauvoir-sur-Mer.