Vintage Lenses Archives

The “Nifty Fifty” Lives Up to Its Name: Nikon AF 50mm f/1.8D (aka the “Human Optical Essence”)

In the world of 35mm photography, I’ve searched high and low for lenses that might replace Leica glass. The truth is, nothing truly does. Leica’s control over highlights and its unique way of rendering backgrounds are irreplaceable. Zeiss can’t do it. Nothing else can.

Secondly, the Nikon AF 50mm f/1.8 (non-D version, made in Japan) is the cream of the crop within the Nifty Fifty lineup.

However, I’ve also realized something else: often, any lens can replace Leica. Because photography isn’t just about a lens’s “character,” nor is it solely about scrutinizing highlights and bokeh. Ultimately, it comes down to content and presentation. This hit me after comparing the Leica Summicron 50mm f/2 and the Nikon 50mm f/1.8 (Japan, non-D). The D version is reportedly good too, but there are whispers that the non-D is better due to slight differences in the glass formulation. I snagged an almost mint, boxed non-D version for about 500 RMB years ago and barely used it. Hearing about its reputation recently is what prompted me to pit it against the Leica.

Sometimes, It’s Even More Pleasing Than Leica

At the same f/2 aperture, and sometimes even without zooming in to 100%, the Nikon gives me an impression of being sharper and cleaner than the Leica. It’s crisp, even wide open at f/1.8 (within 5 meters). But if you keep pixel-peeping, you see the Leica still resolves more fine detail. So, if you’re not scrutinizing huge prints, this 500 RMB Nikon lens can actually look more pleasingly sharp than the Leica.

A weakness of older Leica lenses is that they can get soft when shooting distant subjects wide open, and strong highlights can produce a “glowing halo” effect (“圣光” sheng guang). Even the highly-regarded Summicron isn’t the best choice for distant landscapes wide open. The Nikon Nifty Fifty? Well… it actually holds up better than the Leica at distance…

When Are They Most Similar?

I find that in simple, even lighting – flat, uncomplicated light without high contrast – it’s incredibly hard to tell them apart, both in focus and out of focus. They look like dead ringers. Only in subtle color tonality might seasoned veterans spot the Leica’s characteristically stable and nuanced rendering.

Sometimes the Nikon “Blows It”

Yep, sometimes, for no apparent reason (not metering error), it just blows highlights terribly. This happens roughly once every 300 shots or so – not super frequent. If you’re not comparing directly to Leica, you might just trash that shot and move on. But in a direct comparison, the Leica’s consistency shines through.

Low Light Shows the Real Difference

The legend about Leica excelling in low light? It’s absolutely true. Frankly, many people avoid shooting in dim light because the results are often muddy, dark, and unpleasant. But Leica pulls out distinct layers from the shadows. The transitions between highlights and deep shadows are smoother, richer. Photos taken in these conditions aren’t just viewable; they can be captivating.

It’s Not About the Camera Body

Sure, camera bodies make some difference, but in the digital age, the lens’s impact is far greater. The difference between CCD and CMOS sensors is nothing compared to swapping lenses. While the Nikon Nifty Fifty can sometimes stand in for Leica, it can never fully replace it.

Think of it like the NBA during Yao Ming’s era: If the Leica Summicron 50 was Tracy McGrady, then the Nikon Nifty Fifty would be Bonzi Wells – the super-sub off the bench who could light it up.

Can you guess which lens took the left and right shots?

Is My Nikon 105mm f/2.5 AI-Modified Lens the Legendary “Afghan Girl” Lens?

Let’s settle this debate once and for all—with a mix of history, optics, and a dash of vintage obsession.

The “Afghan Girl” Lens: Myth vs. Reality

The iconic 1984 photograph by Steve McCurry was shot with a Nikon FM2, Nikkor 105mm f/2.5 AI-S lens, and Kodachrome 64 film. This specific AI-S version (released in 1977) features a 5-element/4-group Xenotar-type design, optimized for sharpness, color fidelity, and improved close-range performance with Nikon’s multicoating technology.

But here’s the twist:
My beloved Auto-era 105mm f/2.5 (officially AI-converted by Nikon) is not the “Afghan Girl” lens—yet I love it even more.

Why the Auto-to-AI Conversion Matters

In Nikon’s golden era (when Leica was their main rival), Auto lenses were built like tank engines: all-metal construction, buttery focus rings, and optical formulas designed for black-and-white film. However, they lacked compatibility with later Nikon SLRs due to missing aperture indexing (AI).

Nikon’s official AI conversion service (now rare) transformed these classics into hybrid gems:

Mechanical upgrades: Added AI coupling for accurate metering on modern film/digital bodies (like my D700/D800).
Cost efficiency: Back in the day, converted AI lenses cost barely $20–30 more than unmodified Auto versions.
Pure nostalgia: That factory-modified serial number feels like a seal from the Nikon gods.

Auto vs. AI-S: A Tale of Two 105mm Lenses

Let’s break down why my “non-Afghan Girl” Auto-converted lens steals my heart:

1. Optical Soul

Auto (Pre-AI, Sonnar design):
- 5 elements/3 groups (1959–1971).
- Single-coated for softer contrast—perfect for rendering creamy bokeh with a painterly glow.
- Lower sharpness at close distances but delivers a “vintage haze” that digital lenses can’t replicate.
AI-S (Xenotar design):
- 5 elements/4 groups (post-1977).
- Multicoated for punchier colors and clinical sharpness (ideal for McCurry’s Kodachrome).
- Linear aperture control for seamless shutter-priority modes.

My take: The Auto version’s lower contrast isn’t a flaw—it’s a time machine. Portraits feel like they’re wrapped in 1960s film grain, even when shot digitally.

2. The JPEG Test (Zero Editing)

[Insert your unedited JPEG example here]

Shot wide open at f/2.5, the Auto-converted lens delivers:

Tonal subtlety: Skin tones avoid the “plastic” look of modern lenses.
Bokeh alchemy: Backgrounds melt into watercolor washes, not busy “nervous” swirls.
WB accuracy: Nikon’s vintage coatings handle mixed light like a seasoned film lab technician.

Why Bother with a “Non-Afghan” Lens?

Character over clinical perfection: Modern AI-S/Zeiss lenses are technically superior, but they lack the Auto’s imperfect charm—like preferring a vinyl record’s crackle to a sterile Spotify stream.
DIY history: Using a factory-converted AI lens feels like driving a restomod classic car—vintage soul with modern reliability.
Collector’s thrill: Finding an official Nikon AI-converted lens today is like unearthing a mint-condition first-edition book.

Final Verdict

Is my 105mm f/2.5 the “Afghan Girl” lens? No.
Is it better? For my style—yes.

While McCurry needed the AI-S’s precision for Kodachrome’s unforgiving palette, my AI-converted Auto lens gives me something no algorithm can replicate: the joy of shooting through a 60-year-old optical formula, tweaked just enough to dance with digital sensors.

The Carl Zeiss Jena 35mm f/2.4: A Vintage Lens That Thinks It’s a Swiss Army Knife (And It’s Kinda Right)

1. Introduction: When East Germany Made Magic

Let’s get real: the Carl Zeiss Jena 35mm f/2.4 is the unicorn of vintage glass. It’s a Cold War relic that somehow outshines modern lenses, a socialist-era gem that laughs at capitalist logic, and a pancake lens that’s somehow also a macro beast. Released when disco was still cool, this little DDR darling proves that East Germany did more than just build the Berlin Wall—they built a damn fine lens.

Is it perfect? No.
Is it ridiculously fun to shoot? Abso-freaking-lutely.

2. Build Quality: “Chunky Charm with a Side of Nostalgia”

Specs:

Weight: 248g (or “heavy enough to feel German, light enough to avoid chiropractor bills”).
Materials: Metal, glass, and a dash of communist stubbornness.
Aesthetic: A brushed-metal brick that whispers, “I survived the ’70s, and I’ll outlive your mirrorless camera.”

The Flektogon 35mm f/2.4 is built like a Trabant—quirky, indestructible, and weirdly lovable. The focus ring turns smoother than a Bowie vinyl, and that M42 mount? Pure retro flex.

Pro Tip: If your lens doesn’t double as a self-defense tool, you’re not holding it right.

3. Optical Performance: “The F/2.4 That Out-Bokehs F/2”

Specs:

Focal Length: 35mm (the “Goldilocks” of street photography).
Aperture: f/2.4 (because East Germany loved almost breaking rules).
Special Sauce: Magic dust stolen from a Wes Anderson film.

Bokeh Sorcery:

This lens defies physics. At f/2.4, backgrounds melt into a watercolor dreamscape that’s creamier than a Bavarian latte. It’s like Zeiss said, *“Who needs f/1.4 when you’ve got socialist engineering?”*

Fun Fact: The bokeh is so smooth, it could convince a Leica fanboy to defect.

Sharpness:

Center: Cuts through reality like a Stasi agent interrogating a capitalist spy.
Edges: Soft enough to make you question capitalism… but who looks at edges anyway?

4. The “Swiss Army Knife” Superpowers

Macro Mode: Focuses down to 0.19m—close enough to count a ladybug’s freckles.
Street Photography: 35mm lets you capture life’s chaos without getting punched.
Portraits: f/2.4 serves just enough blur to make your subject pop like a strudel at a bake-off.

Pro Tip: Use it for everything. Literally. Flowers, faces, UFO sightings—this lens doesn’t care.

5. Color Science: “The Rainbow Factory Called Dresden”

Straight-out-of-camera JPEGs: Cold-war cool with a dash of Ostalgie (that’s “East German nostalgia” for you capitalists).
RAW Flexibility: Desaturate it, and it morphs into a moody poet. Crank the vibrancy, and it’s a disco ball.
Golden Hour Glory: Turns sunlight into liquid amber.

Warning: Shooting with this lens may cause sudden urges to wear Adidas tracksuits and hum 99 Luftballons.

6. Quirks & Quibbles: “Love Letters from 1975”

Pros:

Versatility: Does macro, street, and portraits like a caffeinated octopus.
Character: Delivers that “I shot this on expired film” vibe without the expired film.
Price: Cheaper than a weekend in Berlin (if you avoid eBay scalpers).

Cons:

Aperture Blades: 6 straight blades make bokeh balls look like ninja stars at f/2.8. Embrace the chaos.
Flare Drama: Shoot into the sun, and you’ll get artistic ghosting. Or just call it “Soviet ambiance.”

7. The “Leica vs. Zeiss” Cold War (Spoiler: Everyone Wins)

Leica Comparison: Sharper than a Leica Summicron in the center, but with 10% of the pretentiousness.
Modern Zeiss: Less clinical, more “let’s drink schnapps and write poetry.”
Verdict: This lens is the lovechild of Leica’s soul and Zeiss’s brains—raised behind the Iron Curtain.

8. Final Verdict: “The People’s Lens”

The Carl Zeiss Jena 35mm f/2.4 isn’t a lens. It’s a time machine. It’s for photographers who crave character over perfection, who think bokeh should be felt, not measured, and who’d rather shoot than flex their gear on Instagram.

Buy it if:

You want vintage charm without the vintage price tag.
You enjoy confusing millennials with “ancient tech.”
You’ve ever wondered, “What if Wes Anderson designed a lens?”

Skip it if:

You need autofocus (or basic human patience).
Your idea of fun is pixel-peeping at 400%.

Rating: 4.7/5 stars (minus 0.3 for the ninja-star bokeh balls, because priorities).

Spec Sheet for Geeks (Because We Know You’re Reading This):

Aperture Blades: 6 straight (ninja stars included).
Close Focus: 0.19m (aka “close enough to smell the sauerkraut”).
Weight: 248g (heavier than your regrets, lighter than your DSLR).
Flare Resistance: Optional.

The Leica R 35-70mm f/3.5 E67: When German Engineering Marries Japanese Flair (And They Live Happily Ever After)

1. Introduction: The Unlikely Lovechild of Precision and Rebellion

Let’s get real: the Leica R 35-70mm f/3.5 E67 is the power couple of the lens world. It’s half German tank, half Japanese anime mech—sturdy enough to survive a nuclear winter, yet sleek enough to make your hipster friends weep into their pour-over coffee. Born from Leica’s obsession with perfection and Minolta’s “hold my sake” innovation, this zoom lens is proof that opposites attract… spectacularly.

Is it perfect? No.
Is it the most interesting lens in your bag? Abso-freaking-lutely.

2. Build Quality: “Built Like a Mercedes, Priced Like a Porsche”

Specs:

Weight: 450g (or “light enough to lift, heavy enough to bludgeon a thief”).
Materials: German metal, Japanese pragmatism, and enough heft to double as a dumbbell.
Aesthetic: A brushed-metal brick that whispers, “I’m here to work, not to accessorize.”

The E67 is built like a Bavarian bank vault—over-engineered, indestructible, and slightly intimidating. Minolta might’ve designed the optics, but Leica slapped on enough Teutonic polish to make even a Rolex feel insecure.

Pro Tip: If your lens doesn’t leave a dent in your coffee table, you’re not Leica-ing hard enough.

3. Optical Performance: “Leica’s Secret Sauce, Minolta’s Spice”

Specs:

Focal Range: 35-70mm (the “Swiss Army knife” of zooms).
Aperture: f/3.5 (or “how to flex subtlety”).
Special Sauce: Leica’s anti-chaos field (patent pending).

Color Science:

Leica’s signature “stable genius” meets Minolta’s rebellious flair. Reds don’t scream—they croon. Blues don’t glare—they serenade. Greens? Let’s just say they’ve got a PhD in chlorophyll.

Fun Fact: Shoot at golden hour, and your photos will look like they’ve been baptized in liquid amber.

Sharpness:

Center: Cuts through reality like a katana.
Edges: Soft enough to make you question your life choices… until you realize nobody cares about edges.

Bokeh:

Smoother than a jazz saxophonist’s riff. At f/3.5, backgrounds melt into a watercolor dreamscape. It’s not “creamy”—it’s butter churned by angels.

4. The “Leica Stability” Superpower

Leica’s secret weapon? Consistency. This lens laughs at harsh light, scoffs at backlighting, and side-eyes chromatic aberration like it’s a peasant.

Flare Control: Better than your therapist’s poker face.
Low Light: Shoots in the dark like a ninja with night vision goggles.
Color Stability: Your photos will age like Keanu Reeves—ageless and vaguely mystical.

Pro Tip: Pair it with a Nikon D700, and watch it transform into a nostalgia machine.

Let me whisper a secret to you: any standard lens beyond 50mm is a gem of a lens.

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.

The Yashica ML 35mm f/2.8: The Budget Contax That’s Basically a Cheat Code

1. Introduction: When “Vintage” Means “Secretly Awesome”

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.

2. Optical Performance: “Almost Zeiss, But With a Side of Humble Pie”

Specs:

Focal Length: 35mm (the “Goldilocks” of street photography).
Aperture: f/2.8 (or “how to make your photos look expensive-ish”).
Construction: 6 elements in 5 groups (because Yashica loves efficiency).

Sharpness:

Center: Razor-sharp, like a stand-up comedian’s punchlines.
Edges: Soft, like your grandma’s butter cookies. But hey, who looks at the edges anyway?

Colors:

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.”

3. Design: “Tiny Titan, Big Attitude”

Build Quality: Metal barrel, rubber focus ring, and enough heft to feel substantial without weighing down your camera bag.
Size: Compact enough to fit in a jacket pocket, yet heavy enough to bonk a paparazzi in self-defense.
Aesthetic: Retro chic, like a ’70s sports car… if that car were made of recycled optimism.

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.

4. Real-World Use: “The Street Shooter’s Secret Weapon”

Street Photography: The 35mm focal length is perfect for capturing life’s chaos without getting punched.
Portraits: At f/2.8, backgrounds melt into a creamy blur that’s almost L-lens worthy.
Travel: Lightweight and discreet, it’s the ideal companion for when you want to look like a tourist but shoot like a pro.

Warning: The edges are softer than a kitten’s paw. Just crop ’em out and call it “artistic framing.”

5. The “Contax Illusion” Hack

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.

Contax Body + Yashica Lens = Instant street cred.
Yashica Body + Contax Lens = A crime against humanity.

6. Pros & Cons: “The Good, the Bad, and the Cozy”

Pros:

Price: Cheaper than a Contax lens cap.
Size: Fits in a pocket, a purse, or a squirrel’s nest.
Character: Delivers that “vintage pop” without the vintage price tag.

Cons:

Edge Softness: Corners look like they’re on a Vaseline bender.
Straight-Out-of-Camera JPGs: As exciting as plain oatmeal.
No Aura of Pretentiousness: You’ll still have to explain it’s not a Zeiss.

7. Final Verdict: “The Hipster’s Guilty Pleasure”

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:

You want Contax vibes without the Contax debt.
You enjoy confusing gear nerds at coffee shops.
You’re okay with cropping edges like a mad gardener.

Skip it if:

You need corner-to-corner sharpness (get a Zeiss, you diva).
You’re allergic to post-processing.

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. 📸✨

The Zeiss Jena 35mm f2.4: Shadows That Play – A Vintage Lens Adventure

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.