Lenses
Some say that Minolta-designed lenses lack a bit of the Leica magic, but looking at this lens – the Leica R 35-70mm f3.5 E67 – I think it still has some Leica characteristics, especially in black and white. Both highlights and shadows retain a remarkable amount of detail and smooth transitions. It still has that Leica magic.
No wonder they say Nikon’s old masters excel at capturing landscapes—its scenery shots brim with an exhilarating vitality. Take Nikon’s 58mm f1.4 Auto lens, the first f1.4 large-aperture lens crafted for the formidable F-mount. Its lineage traces back to the rangefinder 50mm lenses, yet the reflex mirror of SLR cameras nudged it to 58mm. In truth, apart from a slightly narrower field of view compared to a 50mm, it transcends the standard in the ethereal realm of bokeh and that elusive, almost mystical quality. Heehee, here’s a little secret few know: when it comes to background blur, early standard lenses with focal lengths between 50mm and 65mm—think 58mm, 55mm, or 60mm—are truly exceptional. They share a deep kinship with that German flavor, steeped in a certain metaphysical allure.
Oh, and by the way, Leica’s 50mm lenses? They’re all ever so slightly larger than 50mm 😉—a subtle truth Leica kept quietly to itself back in the day.
Let’s get real: the Yashica ML 35mm f/2.8 is the undercover cop of vintage lenses. It looks like Contax’s thrift-store cousin, shoots like a mini Zeiss, and costs less than a week’s worth of avocado toast. Mount it on a Contax body, and suddenly you’re a “serious photographer.” Mount it on anything else, and you’re just… sensible.
Is it perfect? No.
Is it ridiculously good for the price? Absolutely.
Specs:
Straight out of camera? A bit flat, like a soda left open overnight. But tweak the white balance (nudge it warmer), and suddenly it’s serving Contax vibes on a Yashica budget.
Pro Tip: Shoot RAW, add a dash of contrast, and watch this lens transform from “meh” to “oh damn.”
Fun Fact: Pair it with a Contax body, and Japanese photographers will nod at you in silent approval. Pair it with a Canon Rebel, and they’ll pretend not to see you.
Warning: The edges are softer than a kitten’s paw. Just crop ’em out and call it “artistic framing.”
Japanese photographers swear by Yashica lenses on Contax bodies. Why? Because it’s like putting a Honda engine in a BMW—nobody notices until you tell them.
The Yashica ML 35mm f/2.8 isn’t a lens. It’s a life hack. It’s proof that you don’t need to sell a kidney to shoot like a Contax snob. It’s a reminder that sometimes, almost perfect is perfect enough.
Buy it if:
Skip it if:
Rating: 4/5 stars (minus 1 for the edges, because priorities).
Now go forth and shoot. Or just admire how tiny it is. We don’t care. 📸✨
Let’s get one thing straight: the Canon EF 40mm f/2.8 STM is the Swiss Army knife of lenses. It’s tiny, it’s cheap, and it’s so light, you’ll forget it’s in your bag—until you realize it’s somehow survived three years of being tossed around like a gym sock.
Is it perfect? No.
Is it ridiculously good for the price? Absolutely.
Specs:
The 40mm f/2.8 is a pancake lens—so flat, you could slip it into a greeting card. The metal mount? A nice touch. The rest? Let’s just say it’s “minimalist.”
Pro Tip: That matte black finish on the focus ring? It’ll start peeling faster than a sunburned tourist. Embrace the “distressed chic” look.
Specs:
Creamier than a latte, softer than your grandma’s hugs. At f/2.8, backgrounds melt into a dreamy blur that’ll make your Instagram followers swoon.
Canon’s signature “friendly realism.” Skin tones glow, greens pop, and reds don’t look like they’re screaming for attention. It’s like Leica’s chill younger sibling.
Fun Fact: This lens is so compact, you’ll start questioning why any lens needs to be bigger than a soda can.
Comparing the 40mm f/2.8 to Canon’s L glass is like comparing a tricycle to a Ferrari. But here’s the kicker: this tricycle can keep up.
The Canon EF 40mm f/2.8 STM isn’t a lens. It’s a philosophy. It’s proof that great photography doesn’t require a second mortgage. It’s a middle finger to gear snobs and a high-five to pragmatists.
Buy it if:
Skip it if:
Rating: 4.5/5 stars (minus 0.5 for the peeling paint, because sigh).
Now go forth and shoot. Or just admire how tiny it is. We don’t care. 📸✨
I shot a utility pole once, stabbing up into a blue sky so loud it practically buzzed. My Zeiss Jena 35mm f2.4 did the work—a scrappy little lens, older than my best boots, with a vignette that sneaks into the corners like a cat curling up for a nap. It’s not perfect. It’s better than that.
This thing’s a DDR relic, a Flektogon design with a heart sharp at f2.4 and edges that soften like a half-remembered song. At 35mm, it’s your go-to for wandering—wide enough to catch the world, tight enough to keep it personal. Slap it on a mirrorless body (you can snag one for under $200), and it loves a bright day, painting colors bold and true. That blue sky? The vignette showed up uninvited, darkening the frame’s rim, nudging my eye to the pole’s rough spine. I tried wiping it out in Lightroom—sky all flat and bright, pole like a textbook sketch. Clean, sure, but dull as dishwater. The shadow had been doing the heavy lifting, giving the shot a little swagger, a little depth. I let it stay, but dialed the shadow back—not all the way, just enough.
Then there’s this other shot: a winter tree, naked as a promise, with a bird’s nest perched like a secret. Same lens, same f2.4. The vignette crept in again, but here it felt like a bully—squashing the air, crowding the nest till it looked trapped. I ditched it in post, and bam—the sky stretched wide, pale and chilly, letting the branches breathe. The nest popped, fragile against the sprawl. No shadow needed.
Here’s the trick: this lens doesn’t shove vignette down your throat. It’s loudest under a blue blaze—light hits the glass hard, and the edges duck out. On a gray day, or stopped down to f5.6, it’s more a murmur than a shout. You decide when it plays. Wide open at f2.4, it’s got that creamy falloff; crank it tighter, and it behaves.
The Zeiss Jena 35mm f2.4 isn’t for the pixel-polish crowd—grab a Sigma Art or Zeiss Milvus if that’s your game. It’s for tinkerers, the ones who’d rather dance with a quirk than iron it flat. Pole got the shadow. Nest got the sky. Both got the shot.
In Leica’s constellation of 50mm lenses, the Summicron-M 50mm f/2 v4 (1979–present) shines as Polaris—unchanging, reliable, and eternally luminous. Designed by the legendary Walter Mandler in 1979 and still in production today, this 240g aluminum oracle blends Bauhaus pragmatism with optical sorcery. Priced at 1,800–1,800–2,500 (used), it’s the “gateway drug” to Leica addiction—and often the final destination.
In the kingdom of M-mount optics, where Leica’s 28mm f/1.4 ASPH reigns at 6,000+,Voigtla¨nder’sVM28mmf/2emergesastheRobinHoodofrangefinders.This6,000+,Voigtla¨nder’sVM28mmf/2emergesastheRobinHoodofrangefinders.This500 aluminum haiku—crafted by Cosina’s optical samurais—delivers 85% Leica performance at 20% cost. For digital shooters craving f/2 drama without M-Aspherical tax, it’s the ultimate gateway drug to wide-angle addiction.
Born in 1930 under the genius of Max Berek—Leica’s founding optical shaman—the Elmar 35mm f/3.5 is a 30g brass haiku that predates WWII, color film, and the concept of “GAS.” This uncoated Tessar-design relic (1930-1960) proves great photography demands neither megapixels nor f/1.4 bravado. At 400–400–800 (well-loved), it’s a gateway drug to analog purity.
“This is Elmar.”
“This is cookie.”
“This is a Cookie Elmar.”
“You may think I’m small, but I have a big world inside me.”
In the shadow of its legendary E43 predecessor and the clinical ASPH successor, the Leica Summilux-M 50mm f/1.4 Pre-ASPH E46 (1995–2004) carves its niche as photography’s unsung antihero. This 335g brass-and-glass relic—Leica’s last gasp of Mandler-era design—bridges analog romance and modern utility. Priced at 2,400–2,400–3,500 (used), it whispers forgotten truths: “Character isn’t engineered—it’s inherited.”
