The Leica X Vario - part two - unpacking

My latest camera, a Leica X Vario, was bought online on Monday 16th May, and these are the events of the following day, when it arrived at my doorstep courtesy of DPD at 10.37am, right in the middle of the one-hour slot notified to me at breakfast-time. I have to say, the delivery companies seem to have upped their game wonderfully since the start of the lockdowns in early 2020. Gone are the days when delivery could be 'any time in the morning' or 'any time in the afternoon'. It's precise now, and the delivery people seem able to keep to it. Something to help them do that must have happened in the background, but I don't know what.

Anyway, there was the parcel. I carefully slit the top open, expecting a sea of polystyrene pellets with only a camera embedded somewhere in it. I got more than that. On top was the mpb.com paper purchase invoice. Then, underneath a big dark box, and a separate packet. 

As anticipated, I hadn't been sent the clever silver cardboard outer box that for years Leica had been fond of using, that spread out like the unfurling petals of a flower. But I did have the inner box, the one that contained the camera, the documentation, and various accessories. I really hadn't expected to get either box. Would I perhaps get all the usual things found inside the inner one? 

The inner box was very similar to the one that housed the Leica X-U that I sold recently. As you can see, its interior consists of a box for the camera itself, and beneath that, two pull-out drawers for the other things. With magnetic catches for the flaps. High-level packaging indeed! Most impressive, Leica! But then, you'd expect nothing less for a camera that, when sold as a current model, would have cost over £2,000.  

And this was the Leica X Vario in my hand. It seemed to be much the same size and weight as the Leica X-U, but there were differences. The X Vario's zoom lens was longer but slimmer; the top plate included a pop-up flash at the left end; and the finish was silky-smooth black metal and black leatherette. The ruggedised and waterproof X-U had been swathed in rubber, and its metal parts were silver. Both cameras were superbly well-made, but the X Vario was definitely the more elegant. A camera to fall in love with on sight. Little arrows struck me again and again. Ouch!

mpb.com had described this camera as being in 'Good' condition. Were they right? I made a close examination of it from every angle. (Nearly all the photos were taken with my little Leica D-Lux 4, which has made a pretty good job of it. It's an excellent camera for close-up work) 

That's the standard plastic lens cap. It seemed pretty secure.

That's the Vario-Elmar lens. As you can see, it's not fast. Maximum aperture is only f/3.5 at the widest focal length of 28mm. At 70mm, at the telephoto end of the zoom range, the maximum aperture is only f/6.4. This is the penalty for matching a zoom lens to a decently large APS-C sensor: to keep it reasonably small and light, the zoom lens has to be on the slow side. But I had hopes that, to compensate, my X Vario would have extra light-sensitivity to make the most of the light gathered in by its lens, and could use high ISOs. 

I continued my inspection. The camera seemed without blemishes and more than merely 'Good'. Click or tap on any of these pictures, to really take a good look.

The plastic insert for the hot shoe, that would also cover the port for an electronic viewfinder, wasn't in place. It was only a minor part; nothing essential; so it didn't matter one bit if it had been lost.

So far so good! It was almost 'as new'. What about the baseplate? That would usually show tell-tale signs of any hard use. 

No. Super clean and entirely unmarked. The bush for mounting on a tripod looked as if it had never been used. There was the all-important serial number: 4794548. That told me the camera was manufactured in 2013 or 2014. So it was eight or nine years old. Although Leicas don't fall to bits, nor damage easily, it was still hard to believe that this one was so old. It could hardly have seen heavy use - or indeed much use at all. (I would change that)

The flash might have had more to do than was normal on modern cameras, to brighten up pictures taken in the kind of dim light the lens might struggle to cope with. But when I moved the switch to release it, it popped up nicely, like an eager little frog. And not like a tired old toad. The mechanism was pristine.

Verdict: I'd have rated the condition of this camera as 'Excellent', not merely 'Good'. mpb.com must surely have made a error. They could have asked more than the £599 I'd paid. Well, lucky me.

Now for the documentation. Would I have the full set?

It was all there, except possibly the leaflet that would have explained how the original purchaser back in 2013 or 2014 could claim their free copy of Adobe Lightroom (a stand-alone single-purchase product then, but subscription-only now). And the leaflet that would have urged them to join Club Leica. The three factory test certificates were an especial prize. One was for the camera itself:

It showed the serial number 4794548, and gave the date the camera was cleared by the factory for shipping to a retailer, 29th November 2013. So: a 2013 camera - and presently eight and a half years old. This particular document was practically the camera's birth certificate. Not to be lost.

The two other certificates were on the same lines, but it wasn't obvious to me what items they covered. Perhaps the lens assembly, and the internal electronics?

Next, the accessories. I opened the sealed packet first. 

Oho! A third-party battery charger - and better than the standard charger Leica supplied for its X Series cameras. Where was its cable, though? 

Still, there was a most welcome extra: a spare battery. A proper Leica one. The ones for the X Series (in truth, any Leica series) are expensive: the identical spare battery I bought for the X-U in 2021 cost me £75. 

There was a third accessory: a metal lens hood, with its own metal cap. It was an official part made by Leica for the X Vario, and another costly item. I immediately decided to use it. Lens hoods not only help prevent lens flare, they protect the front element of the lens. Metal hoods especially. 

I noticed now that the hood cap had taken a ding a some point, as it had a small dent in it. The cap was otherwise intact. 

I don't think you would notice this dent much at a casual glance, but it was definitely a sign of some past mishap. Most likely the camera swung into something. The dent didn't worry me: it was a minor battle-scar, part of the camera's individual history. Whatever had happened, the cap had taken all the impact, and the rest of the camera hadn't been damaged. Maybe mpb.com had downgraded the camera from 'Excellent' to 'Good' because of this dent, although it affected only a replaceable accessory, not the camera itself. But no doubt they knew from experience that a fussy buyer would cavil at paying for an otherwise great-condition camera, if there were damage to anything at all.

So what was in the bottom drawer of the box? Another haul. The charger cable, and the USB cable for connecting the X Vario to a laptop, for the transferring photo files.

There was already a battery in the camera, well-charged. So I popped the spare into the charger and plugged it in. A red light showed while charging; it turned green once the charging had finished. 

The camera needed a memory card. I already had a new 8GB SDHC card to hand, one of a pair I'd bought some time ago. I now slipped it in next to the battery.

Two further items were needed: a neck strap, and a bag for carrying the camera and to protect it. 

There should have been a Leica neck strap, but it was missing. However, I wouldn't want to use it, if it were anything like the official Leica one that came with the X-U. Fortunately I still had the third-party neck strap I'd used instead with the X-U, and fitted that to the lugs on either side of the X Vario's body. A carrying bag could wait.

I was ready to take photographs!

What were my first results like? Next post.

The Leica X Vario - part one - purchase and initial expectations

Readers (I know I have at least two readers), brace yourselves! A new series of photo-related posts is about to begin. I hope they will record happiness at having made a good purchase. But of course it may all end in disappointment. Being an optimist, I anticipate having an interesting time getting to know my latest camera.

So what have I done now? Well, I've bought a Leica X Vario from the big online photo retailer, mpb.com. It's cost me £599. I can afford that. But it has to be positively the last camera I will buy for the next few years. I really must get back to saving serious money again, for larger and more important things.

You may remember that back in March I sold my Leica X-U to mpb.com, and I was impressed how straightforward the process was, how they kept to their quoted offer, and how quickly the money was credited to my bank account. I therefore felt they were trustworthy, and decided that I would buy from them, and ignore anything offered from private sellers on eBay, however tempting. 

I have of course paid mpb by credit card, and will get the benefit of Section 75 of the Consumer Credit Act, which if necessary gets me a refund from my credit card company if the camera fails to meet its advertised description, and for some reason I can't get satisfaction from mpb. But I am confident that when they say the camera is in 'Good' condition (which they define) it will work properly. 

The X Vario was in production only from 2013 to 2017, and so this is of course a used example, at a guess from 2014, so it's probably eight years old. I will try to pin down the month of manufacture as closely as I can from the serial number. 

I have studied mpb's pictures of the sale article minutely, and the camera looks very nice externally, almost entirely free of blemishes. There is no mention of its original packaging, so I reckon all of that has long gone. (In fact I'd be paying quite a bit more than £599 if the original packaging and documentation were included) I'm guessing that the camera has had at least two previous owners. However, being a German-made Leica, a product of the Wetzlar factory, and therefore solidly built to last, it should have taken in its stride anything that those previous owners may have thrown at it. I expect to lift it out of mpb's shipment box, charge up its battery, slip in a new SD card, and get shooting almost at once. In my own hands it will naturally get lots of TLC. Some people have rescue dogs and show them love. I have cameras.  

There is a month before my next caravan holiday (I returned from the Cotswolds today), and I should have got through all the preliminary assessments by the time I'm off again.

So why this camera? 

After using the Leica X-U for several months, and taking almost 15,000 pictures with it, I had a very good idea of what it could do - and couldn't do. I very much liked the crisper, more detailed (and possibly more subtle) pictures it took when compared with my faithful but venerable Leica D-Lux 4. I can see why I kept most of the shots taken with the X-U. They were very good shots. But there was a fatal snag: the X-U had no zoom. I was stuck with a 35mm fixed prime lens, and eventually I found it found limiting. No wonder I went back to the little Leica D-Lux 4, which did have a zoom, a modest one, but it did the job well. It gave me a versatility that was lacking in the X-U.

The Leica X Vario has that missing versatility. It will be much more like the D-Lux 4 - larger, but with a zoom of similar range. So I know it will suit me. The major difference is the size of the sensor. The D-Lux 4's is very small by modern standards. The X Vario's sensor is much larger: APS-C sized. The same as on the X-U. So I ought to get the kind of very good pictures I rated so highly from the X-U, but at a variety of focal lengths, not just the one.

There is another difference. The maximum aperture on the D-Lux 4 is f/2.0, and its lens can draw in a lot of light. The X Vario's maximum aperture is only f/3.5, and its slower lens can capture only a third of the light that the D-Lux 4 can. This is the result of a design decision. Larger sensors mean larger, heavier lenses, unless you restrict the maximum aperture to keep them manageable - especially so with a zoom lens. If you want the best image quality, there's no alternative. Which means that I'll have to turn up the ISO (light-sensitivity) by three compared to the D-Lux 4, or allow three times the length of exposure for each shot, or some combination of these two things. So I don't expect the X Vario to do well indoors, nor at night. But it should be fine for sunsets. And during the day, it should give me results noticeably better than the D-Lux 4's, and even beat the X-U. Leica's main lens designer, Peter Karbe, created the X Vario's zoom lens, so I'm taking it as a given that it will give remarkable results in the right conditions.

Do I need to say that I've hunted up all the X Vario pictures I can readily find on the Internet, to judge what it can accomplish in various lights? Many of these have wowed me. In skilled hands, this camera delivers pictures I'd be proud of.  

And what if, when viewing my own results, I don't get the expected frisson? Well, I won't dismiss my X Vario. I won't sell it on. I will hang onto it. It will appreciate in value, and one day I will get all my money back, and may even make a small profit. Classic Leica cameras - and it seems that the X Vario is now regarded as a modern classic - are much sought after. 

Why is the X Vario a collector's item? Because it is the only APS-C camera with a fixed zoom lens that Leica ever produced. Indeed it remains the only one of its type that you can buy, as no other maker attempted the same thing. It was made to fill a gap in the luxury camera market: and just like the X-U, this turned out to be a failed experiment, the gap always being too small to produce a sufficient return. It didn't help that the marketing for the 2013 launch misled potential buyers, making for disappointment if the original asking price (around £2,150) hadn't already put them off. So the X Vario never sold well when you could buy it new. That was then; today in 2022 that awkward launch is in well the past, and the second-hand prices are, for the moment, reasonable. The X Vario isn't an especially rare camera, but, like the X-U, there aren't many available to buy, and anything worthwhile gets snapped up fast. When I saw that this one had appeared on mpb's website during the previous few hours, I didn't hesitate. At £599, somebody else would soon have it. 

For my £599 I expect a very good camera, one I hope I will enjoy using. Will I see another one when out and about? Probably not. I hardly ever see anybody taking pictures with a Leica. I didn't when I took the X-U to London last January, the very place where you might expect to bump into another Leica user. But no. 

DPD are delivering my X Vario tomorrow. Expect some photos in the next post.

Choosing the stone

The continuing story of my 70th Birthday Ring.

A few days back, I discussed the ring metal with Rebecca at Pruden & Smith in Ditchling. I'd already raised the budget for the ring to £1,000, and so I could have white gold instead of silver. She now showed me the difference between 9 carat gold and 18 carat gold, as seen in this picture I took of her finger, with three rings in a row: 9 carat gold (left), platinum (centre), and 18 carat gold (right):

If I wanted white gold, she recommended 9 carat (the leftmost ring). 18 carat gold (rightmost) was darker, and would look dull against my silver rings. It was also, of course, softer. So 9 carat gold then. I didn't want platinum (centre): it looked cold to my eyes.  

Now to the stone itself. I had been considering a topaz, but my budget could now stretch to a sapphire. I didn't want an intensely dark stone. A lighter-blue sapphire then. We'd meet again at the end of the week, and she'd show me a selection of suitable sapphires. I showed her a picture of my left eye, which displayed several shades of blue and green, and I wondered whether I could have a stone that matched one of them. 

I emailed the picture to her shortly afterwards.

And so to yesterday. My friend Jo had asked whether she could come along. Of course! And so appropriate, as she would represent the group of local girl friends who were contributing to the cost of the ring, by way of their birthday present to me. Here she is, sitting at the old jeweller's workbench Rebecca uses for discussing commissions with clients. Light floods in from the north-facing window, so that items can be examined and assessed in natural illumination.

Rebecca had got together several stones that met the general brief, with one or two that were a reasonable eye-match. We quickly eliminated all but these three:

The middle stone was very nice, but too purple for my taste, so that was set aside too. Leaving just these stones to consider:

Hmm. Both attractive. The one on the left was much closer to my eye colour than the one on the right. And it had more sparkle. Rebecca mounted it on the silver shop-display ring so that we could could see what it would look like on a finger. Here Jo is holding the ring...

...and here I have it on my little finger. The finished ring would of course be sized for the adjacent ring finger.

Very nice indeed! It definitely caught the eye. A good blue-green colour. Now for the other, bluer ring:

And, away from my finger, this was the bluer stone in its storage box:

Hmm! I was very much taken with the first ring, the sparkling blue-green one. And it was much the better match to my eyes. But this darker, bluer ring had a different appeal. It was less glittery, but had more colour-depth. It was subtler. At this point Rebecca revealed that the eye-catching blue-green ring was in fact a topaz. The quieter, more subtle ring was a sapphire. 

Well, that settled it. I'd set my heart on a sapphire, if the money was going to stretch to one. It was a higher-status ring, but also made sense for durability, as sapphire is a harder stone than topaz. I liked both, but for choice it had to be the sapphire. 

Jo said that's what she'd choose too, and made the point that as this was going to be a ring I intended to wear all the time for the rest of my life, it needed to be one that I would always be happy with. She thought that I'd tire of the topaz's glitter. It was all shiny surface. The darker sapphire had a deep mysterious heart that would make it more fascinating to wear in the long run. I felt she was right. 

So there we are. I have paid a £500 deposit, and Rebecca will get to work with a deadline of 30th June, several days ahead of my birthday on the 6th July. In fact, however, I expect the finished ring will be ready before then. I will go in to try it on, and if satisfied will pay the balance and take my Birthday Ring away. But not to wear immediately. Oh no! I must surrender it to whichever of my girl friends is going to gift-wrap it. It will be presented to me at one of our customary birthday lunches, as close as possible to my actual birthday. And only then will it adorn my ring finger.

I don't mind that the chosen stone doesn't closely match my eye colour. In fact neither of the two stones considered would have. Look at these laptop screen shots, in which I compare my eye to each stone. The topaz first, then the sapphire:

The same camera (the little Leica D-Lux 4) in each case. It seems there is much more green in my eye colour than I would have believed. Surely, when I was younger, my eyes were bluer? Oh well.

One thing about sapphires that I've recently learned is that they nearly always have inclusions, which are filaments and speckles of other minerals, trapped within the stone as it was being formed. These affect the transmission of light through the stone and give each sapphire a certain character of its own. If you scroll up and find the larger picture of Jo holding the ring with 'my' sapphire stuck onto it, and click or tap on it (to bring up a clearer picture you can magnify), you can just make out a swirl of speckles inside the stone (underneath the table, its top facet). These speckles are inclusions. I'm reminded of the bits and pieces - such as pollen and seeds - found in old amber, although this is purely a mineral thing. The presence of inclusions is a guarantee that the stone wasn't made in a lab, as synthetic stones would be perfect and not show traces of impurities. It also confirms that the stone hasn't been subject to heat treatment, often used to enhance its colour. Heating would tend to get rid of obvious inclusions.  

This sapphire will go well with my favourite neckwear, such as my silver and pearl necklaces:

It may also pick up on the blue in my labradorite pendant fairly well: 

One thing's for sure. I wear a lot of blue clothes, and the ring - and its sapphire - will go well with most of my wardrobe!

I need now to find a name for my ring, based perhaps on its being gold, or set with a sapphire, or marking an important birthday. It's very tempting to concoct something that has the suggestion of Old Norse, or the Anglo-Saxons - a name that would look good if written in runes. But I've also been thinking about names that reference the particular blueness of the stone. For instance, it reminds me strongly of the dark blue of an evening sky after sunset - a favourite time of day - when the stars are beginning to come out, and the moon is visible and rising. 

I can at least give an assurance that, although this ring is my Birthday Present, I won't be calling it My Precious!

Sequel

I've had several names in mind, such as Eveningstar, Twilight and Serenity. Now I've thought of Blueheart. And there's always the obvious one, Bluestone (which reminds me of Stonehenge). All of them appropriate names of course. I have two months to think about it.

It's no wonder that I like the blue colour of the sapphire: it's almost the same as the colour of my cherished car Fiona!