Propel RC Stealth Flyer II

Concept: 2 out of 5
Execution: 4 out of 5
Yeah, but: Never too late for a happy kidhood.

The Long Version: Driving around in circles is just pretty dumb, and that's where all of my radio-controlled car purchases have ended up. So I've mostly learned to resist the siren call of toys that would amuse a 12-year-old, no matter how much I think I would really like one, and have missed out on the whole remote-controlled helicopter thing until now.

Concept: 2 out of 5
Execution: 4 out of 5
Yeah, but: Never too late for a happy kidhood.

The Long Version: Driving around in circles is just pretty dumb, and that's where all of my radio-controlled car purchases have ended up. So I've mostly learned to resist the siren call of toys that would amuse a 12-year-old, no matter how much I think I would really like one, and have missed out on the whole remote-controlled helicopter thing until now.

Penny went to Radio Shack and bought me the "Propel RC Stealth Flyer II" – hereafter 'toy helicopter' – for Christmas. This is a small and simple toy, being seven inches nose-to-tail with a six inch rotor span, weighing nothing, and with only throttle and direction controls. There's no ability to hover or control its speed, and it invariably turns quickly in one direction and slowly in the other, so even that expectation of left-right control is somewhat illusory. This is not a precision machine.

But complexity is not a prerequisite for enjoyment. The toy helicopter gives just enough control to influence its actions but not enough to be accountable for the results. When it crashes – and it will crash, and often – it's just an amusing little wince, and when a flight ends in a wheels-down landing I feel a completely unjustified sense of accomplishment.

The toy helicopter has a surprising amount of power, so it's very easy to over-do the throttle and send it crashing into something. Even a measured and controlled flight is likely to involve impacts, and I'm continually amazed at the incredible durability of this toy. It routinely sucks itself into the ceiling – the opposite of ground effect – and then tumbles to the floor, and/or crashes into walls, and seems to have a magical attraction to the back of the couch. I've worn the paint from its nose and scoured the top pair of rotor blades, but it still flies like a champ.

The easiest way to launch the helicopter is to hold it by the tail and run up the rotors until it's stable and generating enough lift to hold itself up. It's very easy to over-do the throttle, so this allows a measured beginning. This works best when the L/R trim controls have been adjusted for straight flight, because it does take a second or two to have both hands back on the remote.

Taking off from a hard, smooth surface is challenging. Despite the twin counter-rotating propellers the helicopter will still torque itself around and end up heading off in an unexpected direction. Couple that with the extra bolt of power needed to get airborne, and the necessity of throttling down in anticipation of its slow reaction times, and it's likely to end in tragedy. Or in amusement, depending on your perspective.

Launching from an upholstered surface that keeps the helicopter facing forward helps tremendously. One of the challenges that I set myself is to start from my desk chair, fly across the dining room, maybe throw in a quick circle of the living room, and then land on the couch. In the fifteen or twenty short flights that I manage on a charge maybe one will end in triumph, while the rest end in amusement.

The helicopter recharges by tethering it to the controller; the infrared controller runs on six AA batteries, and they last a surprisingly long time. As the helicopter's power runs down it gradually loses the ability to lift itself, so there's plenty of warning that it needs to recharge. By then it's usually time to put it away before someone gets hurt, so it's all for the best.

A nice touch with the helicopter is that it has white and blue LED running lights on the nose and tail, respectively, which makes it a lot of fun to fly in dimmer light. They're also quite practical, as otherwise it can be tough to see which way the helicopter is facing from one moment to the next. And given how quickly it can spin this can be very important.

The LED lights have another practical application as well. To sync up properly the helicopter needs to be turned on before the controller; when they're communicating the `copter's rear blue LED gives three quick flashes and then continues to blink. If the helicopter's unresponsive and the lights are solid, just flip the controller off and on again. Propel RC gets bonus points for combining 'fun' with 'functional' – how often does that happen for inexpensive electronic toys?

The toy helicopter is surprisingly loud; I can only use it when Penny's not home because just hearing it from another room – whirring away and abruptly crashing into things – stresses her out. The abrupt ends of each flight can be a little intimidating, but the combination of hinged rotor blades and extremely light weight means that the helicopter has yet to break anything. And yes, I've flown it into myself on occasion, and while it doesn't tickle, it also doesn't cut or bruise. The key is to cut power when there's an impending impact and let the helicopter fall where it may.

This toy helicopter has struck – if you'll pardon the pun – an excellent balance. It's durable and powerful enough to enjoy, and not so expensive that I'm concerned about hurting it. It gives enough control to be fun but not enough to be the helicopter equivalent of the predictability of driving around in circles. It's one of those rare times that something "better", in whatever way that means, probably wouldn't be an actual improvement. Two months after Christmas I'm still using and enjoying it, which is pretty awesome for a toy that's meant for a twelve-year-old.

last updated 25 feb 2013

Penny went to Radio Shack and bought me the "Propel RC Stealth Flyer II" – hereafter 'toy helicopter' – for Christmas. This is a small and simple toy, being seven inches nose-to-tail with a six inch rotor span, weighing nothing, and with only throttle and direction controls. There's no ability to hover or control its speed, and it invariably turns quickly in one direction and slowly in the other, so even that expectation of left-right control is somewhat illusory. This is not a precision machine.

But complexity is not a prerequisite for enjoyment. The toy helicopter gives just enough control to influence its actions but not enough to be accountable for the results. When it crashes – and it will crash, and often – it's just an amusing little wince, and when a flight ends in a wheels-down landing I feel a completely unjustified sense of accomplishment.

The toy helicopter has a surprising amount of power, so it's very easy to over-do the throttle and send it crashing into something. Even a measured and controlled flight is likely to involve impacts, and I'm continually amazed at the incredible durability of this toy. It routinely sucks itself into the ceiling – the opposite of ground effect – and then tumbles to the floor, and/or crashes into walls, and seems to have a magical attraction to the back of the couch. I've worn the paint from its nose and scoured the top pair of rotor blades, but it still flies like a champ.

The easiest way to launch the helicopter is to hold it by the tail and run up the rotors until it's stable and generating enough lift to hold itself up. It's very easy to over-do the throttle, so this allows a measured beginning. This works best when the L/R trim controls have been adjusted for straight flight, because it does take a second or two to have both hands back on the remote.

Taking off from a hard, smooth surface is challenging. Despite the twin counter-rotating propellers the helicopter will still torque itself around and end up heading off in an unexpected direction. Couple that with the extra bolt of power needed to get airborne, and the necessity of throttling down in anticipation of its slow reaction times, and it's likely to end in tragedy. Or in amusement, depending on your perspective.

Launching from an upholstered surface that keeps the helicopter facing forward helps tremendously. One of the challenges that I set myself is to start from my desk chair, fly across the dining room, maybe throw in a quick circle of the living room, and then land on the couch. In the fifteen or twenty short flights that I manage on a charge maybe one will end in triumph, while the rest end in amusement.

The helicopter recharges by tethering it to the controller; the infrared controller runs on six AA batteries, and they last a surprisingly long time. As the helicopter's power runs down it gradually loses the ability to lift itself, so there's plenty of warning that it needs to recharge. By then it's usually time to put it away before someone gets hurt, so it's all for the best.

A nice touch with the helicopter is that it has white and blue LED running lights on the nose and tail, respectively, which makes it a lot of fun to fly in dimmer light. They're also quite practical, as otherwise it can be tough to see which way the helicopter is facing from one moment to the next. And given how quickly it can spin this can be very important.

The LED lights have another practical application as well. To sync up properly the helicopter needs to be turned on before the controller; when they're communicating the `copter's rear blue LED gives three quick flashes and then continues to blink. If the helicopter's unresponsive and the lights are solid, just flip the controller off and on again. Propel RC gets bonus points for combining 'fun' with 'functional' – how often does that happen for inexpensive electronic toys?

The toy helicopter is surprisingly loud; I can only use it when Penny's not home because just hearing it from another room – whirring away and abruptly crashing into things – stresses her out. And as my audio recording of the helicopter attests, the abrupt ends of each flight can be a little intimidating, but the combination of hinged rotor blades and extremely light weight means that the helicopter has yet to break anything. And yes, I've flown it into myself on occasion, and while it doesn't tickle, it also doesn't cut or bruise. The key is to cut power when there's an impending impact and let the helicopter fall where it may.

This toy helicopter has struck – if you'll pardon the pun – an excellent balance. It's durable and powerful enough to enjoy, and not so expensive that I'm concerned about hurting it. It gives enough control to be fun but not enough to be the helicopter equivalent of the predictability of driving around in circles. It's one of those rare times that something "better", in whatever way that means, probably wouldn't be an actual improvement. Two months after Christmas I'm still using and enjoying it, which is pretty awesome for a toy that's meant for a twelve-year-old.

last updated 25 feb 2013

Ultra-Pod II Table-Top Tripod

Concept: 3 out of 5
Execution: 2 out of 5
Yeah, but: I still want a new Gorillapod.

The Long Version: It's easy to take things for granted when they're inexpensive, lightweight, and plastic, and that's what I've done with my 'Ultrapod'. Officially the named the Ultra-Pod II – it's moulded into the product – the name of the actual manufacturer seems to change depending on who you ask.

The Ultrapod is ideally suited to small SLRs or the typical mirrorless camera, which it holds quite well. The rather large footprint does a good job of compensating for its light weight. It's not suitable for larger cameras or longer lenses, though, since there's a bit of spring in it when it's feeling stressed.

I've owned this little tripod for over a decade, and have carried it often enough that the silver paint has worn off. I've also lost the rubber anti-slip foot from the main leg, which has been effectively replaced with hockey tape. But like all of my tripods, I've never really intensively used it – they're for special occasions – but the ultrapod has always been what I've reached for when I want something small and lighter, if weaker, than my Manfrotto tabletop tripod.

The Ultrapod uses a double-jointed attachement for the camera. The top is something of a ball joint, letting the camera pivot and rotate, although it has limited side to side movement, while the lower joint is only a single-axis pivot point. This double joint means that the camera, or whatever, can lie flat on its back along the body of the folded tripod. That's a rare thing to need, but it solves an uncommon problem for me.

I use a shock mount and grip bar to hold my audio recorder, and the Ultrapod screws onto the end of it. It adds almost no weight, holds securely as long as the recorder stays centered, and folds over on itself to fit in the bag. So after all these years of owning it the Ultrapod is finally in regular service, doing a job that no other tripod design could. What can I say? I execute excellent planning, even when it's matched with lousy timing.

last updated 19 jan 2013

Olympus M.Zuiko 9-18mm Wide Zoom Lens

Concept: 3 out of 5
Execution: 2 out of 5
Yeah, but: I love lens names like "M.Zuiko Digital ED 9-18mm f4.0-5.6".

The Long Version: Bill has already spent some time with the Olympus 9-18mm lens for Micro Four Thirds, and came away with mixed opinions. So when a friend of mine offered me a chance to borrow his copy, I couldn't resist – so this marks the first time on Thewsreviews that two different people have reviewed something that we don't actually own.

And a note for Four Thirds users about the product photos used in this review: the softness and blur that you see is not a defect. It's an optical quality called "shallow depth of field" that can happen when using a lens with a wide aperture on a large sensor. There's no need to remember all that, though, since the term "shallow depth of field" and "Olympus 9-18mm lens" will never again be used in the same sentence.

My first impression of the M.Zuiko 9-18 is that there's a lot of plastic involved. I've previously owned the godlike SHG Olympus 7-14, and currently have the well-built Panasonic of the same focal length. But moving to the little Olympus 9-18 is another step down in terms of feel and handling, and that's an impression that's hard to shake when it comes time to start taking photos.

And speaking of shaking when taking photos, there's a distinct wobble in the 9-18's lens barrel. It's not floppy, but when I shake my wrist I could feel the movement. I could usually tell when it was extended to its longest physical length, at 9mm, versus when it was at its shortest length at 18mm. With practice I might be able to distinguish the intermediate focal lengths as well, but I didn't have that much time with the lens.

A lot has been made of the collapsable lens design. This does make it smaller in storage, but bigger in use; personally I don't think that the tradeoff in the fit and finish of the lens is worth it. The resulting small size also something of a trick – or perhaps an illusion – because the Olympus lens is actually larger than the Panasonic 7-14 when it's in use, especially when the hood is included.

It's also worth noting that the lens hood that's on my test lens is "optional" in the sense that it's not included and costs extra, not optional in the sense that it's a take-it-or-leave-it thing that doesn't really matter either way. While flare is remarkably well controlled even with the sun in the frame, I was happy to have it for the extra shading and physical protection that it provides. For people with variable-aspect Panasonic sensors, it's good to know that the hood doesn't vignette even when the camera's set to a 16:9 ratio.

When people talk about the optical quality of the micro 9-18, they usually start by saying how small it is. That's not a good sign.

But perhaps I expect less from my Micro Four Thirds cameras than Bill does, as I tend to use my GH1 more for snapshots and casual photography, leaving the IQ-critical tasks to my other cameras. As a result the sharpness, flare resistance, and aberration suppression of the 9-18 was perfectly serviceable for me. Not stellar, but solid. I can't really say that I took any "wow" photos in the four-day weekend that I had it for, but wide angles are notoriously hit-or-miss to begin with.

What I did see in from the lens didn't leave me burning to spend a lot more time with it. It's essentially a 'kit lens' in ultra-wide form, and the slow 4-5.6 aperture isn't an endearing characteristic. That's usually justified in exchange for smaller size and lower cost, but the Olympus achieves only mixed success with that compromise.

My huge stumbling block was the amount of distortion at the wide end of the 9-18's range. Wide lenses on little cameras are a natural choice for cities and interiors, making this very objectionable. And while it could be user error, I consistently found the distortion more pronounced on the right side of the frame. I needed to minimize the appearance of the barrel distortion by composing at jaunty angles, which was fun for the weekend, but not something I would want to see in every photo of a far-off city.

What makes the poor distortion correction even worse is that the 9-18mm is a really useful focal range. At 9mm it's wide enough to create some very powerful perpective exaggeration, while 18mm is a standard slightly-wide lens that provides a very natural point of view. I would be happy with having only this range for a day's walk, while I'd want to carry the 20mm along with the 7-14 to give me the same flexibility.

The Olympus 9-18 remains a difficult lens to recommend. It's not as expensive as the Panasonic 7-14, but a well-known New York camera store currently lists the Olympus at $700 and the Panasonic for under $900. Frankly, that should be too small a difference to be significant when deciding on a lens that will provide years of service. So it comes down to practical considerations of the focal length range and optical quality.

In most respects the Panasonic 7-14 lens is better than the Olympus 9-18. Better built, brighter, better corrected: as a specialized ultra-wide it wins without question, but that's not the only consideration.

The Olympus has a range that can stand on its own as a general purpose wide-standard zoom lens, perhaps replacing a 14-42, especially if it's paired with a long zoom or the bright Olympus 45/1.8 prime. I wouldn't buy it as an ultra-wide, but rather as a short zoom with the occasional extra-wide option when it would suit the subject and the photograph. But even for that more modest goal, the price to performance ratio is a tough sell. I want to like this M. Zuiko lens more than I do, so like Bill, I remain conflicted.

last updated 24 mar 2012

Generic Lens Caps

Concept: 2 out of 5
Execution: 3 out of 5
Yeah, but: Name-brand pharmaceuticals are next.

The Long Version: After my Zeiss C-Sonnar review I promised Bill that I'd try to avoid inspirational photography products for a while. Reviewing lens caps seems to fit the requirement, since they're one of those little usability design things that can either go unnoticed or be an ongoing irritation. Universal generic caps manage to land somewhere in between at a reasonable price.

I prefer centre-pinch lens caps with any lens that wears a hood, and given how cold the Canadian winter can get, that's just about all of them. Nikon caps are great, as are the contemporary Olympus ones, but Zeiss has been kind enough to prove that even the centre-pinch can be done really badly. The only lens caps demonstrably worse than them were recalled by the manufacturer. A generic edge-pinch ens cap snapped onto the front of a metal Zeiss ZM's lens hood is a huge improvement over the original design.

Older Olympus E-System and current Canon lens caps are good examples of bad edge-pinch designs, with the hard-to-find press points set to match the cap's circumference. This makes them slow to remove when the lens doesn't have a hood on it, and almost impossible to remove when the lens is properly dressed. These generic caps aren't any better when there's a hood involved, but otherwise they're easier to release and typically hold on tighter as well.

The usual reason for buying a generic lens cap is because the original was lost and the branded ones are just too expensive. But for any lens that I have that doesn't habitually wear a hood I find the cheaper generic options really can be a better choice, and will use them even when the originals are still accounted for.

Finally, a note on lens cap prices. The production and handling costs for a lens cap is about a dollar for generic caps, with a small additional licensing fee for branded ones. But only another dollar of the price actually goes to the camera stores. Think about it: if it wasn't for this low margin the stores would be trying to bundle in extra caps just like they do with UV filters. The shocking truth is that rest of the price is actually a hidden tax that's used to fund community college photo courses and hipster-outreach programmes. The Photography Competence Accessibility Program revenue funds the heroic effort to reduce the number of cameras wrapped in plastic bags at the bottoms of backpacks, and for that I applaud it.

Buying a dozen generic caps from A Popular Online Auction Site for $10 is only possible because of unethical sellers skirting this tax, which only serves their self-serving perpetuation of lens-cap-losing photographers. I urge all three of my readers to fight back against these cynical cut-rate opportunists by patronizing merchants who collect the PhotoCAP fees. We need to think of the children now more than ever.

last updated 2 dec 2011

Umbra Saddle Sink Caddy

Concept: 3 out of 5
Execution: 1 out of 5
Yeah, but: No matter where you put it, there it is.

The Long Version: It seems like a really good idea. The Umbra saddle sink caddy is designed to go across the centre of a twin sink, with a compartment on both sides to hold sponges, scouring pads, and similar. It comes in different colours, but I picked a dark one – "smoke" – that would look the least grungy the longest. (White is also available for those who want the opposite effect.) Realistically there's not much chance that a silicone spongebra will add to the decor, no matter how cute it is in the store, so I wish I'd picked the red one just because it looks like it has more fun.

The problems with my sink caddy started very quickly. The saddle doesn't straddle my sink very elegantly, leading to a bulky fit that takes up more room than it should. Next I discovered just how much I use the dividing wall between the sinks, for everything from bracing cooking sheets to balancing the big 4L water-filter jug. And when I actually use the sink for dishes and cooking, the sponge caddy blocks a surprising amount of it. All this I could live with, even though I often end up having to move the caddy to one side or just drop it into the half of the sink that I'm not using. The biggest problem is that the Umbra caddy keeps sponges wet for a remarkably long time.

Each side of the sink caddy has four dainty little drainage holes, which serve to let most of the water out when it gets flooded by the faucet, but aren't enough to let it drain completely or allow proper air flow. So instead of keeping my kitchen organized, the Umbra sink saddle leaves me with chronically damp sponges sitting in a holder that's inevitably in the way. I have to admit that I was hoping for more than that from this simple little thing. Umbra usually does a very good job with product design, but this one just doesn't do it for me.

last updated 24 may 2011

On Sight Equipment's Money Belt

Concept: 3 out of 5
Execution: 2 out of 5
Yeah, but: It only costs eight bucks.

The Long Version: There are two completely different things that are called a "money belt", and it's important to choose the right type. Some are large flat pouches that are sized to hold passports and a considerable wad of euros. These go under various articles of clothing, and aside from having a strap on them, look nothing like belts. The other style is, deceptively, an actual belt: they just have a long flat pocket on the inside, closed with a really long zipper.

The On Sight money belt is the second type, and holds bills when they're folded into quarters lengthwise. It has a minimal capacity, so don't expect to hide much more than a half-dozen pieces of your favourite currency, and it won't hold any ID or travel documents at all. Instead I keep a small strip of paper in mine with the numbers of my important documents, a mnemonic sequence for my credit card, and the phone number for the Canadian government.

The belt is made from nylon webbing material with a simple cam-lock buckle, and its ability to securely lock at any position is a kindness for travelling. The inner compartment runs nearly the full length of the belt, ending before the portion that threads through the buckle. When closed, the zipper pull is at the buckle end of the belt, making it easy to check but hard to get into. A little privacy goes a long way if you ever need access to its contents.

While there is some metal in its zipper, it's hard to imagine it setting off a metal detector. That's not to say that it's a good idea to wear clothing with concealed pockets though a security checkpoint, but since some scanners can see through clothing anyway, I'm sure we're all safe from every threat if we ever take the risk of leaving home. Use your judgement and remember just how complicated life becomes if you break the rules. (If you're not Canadian, make that "how complicated life can become if you're caught breaking the rules.")

If you typically wear clothes that need to be ironed, the On Sight money belt isn't an appropriate stylistic choice. Aesthetically it's very casual and nondescript, suiting backpackers and the sneakers-and-jeans crowd without drawing attention to itself. There's no external branding, and just the faintest wisp of visible stitching to give away its true nature. I've used mine for a couple of weekends, and the diagonally cut end that fits through the buckle is showing some minor fraying, but I choose to think that it adds to the nothing-special camouflage.

I'm comfortable with my current level of paranoia to keep me safe within North America. Rather than depending on a Type I money belt to secure all of my valuables against pickpockets or muggers, the On Sight belt serves as my last-chance get-out-of-trouble kit. It doesn't hold much, but that's enough for what it needs to do: remember to stay calm, be brave, and wait for the signs.

last updated 4 may 2011

Tokina 16-28 Lens Cap

Concept: 1 out of 5
Execution: 0 out of 5
Yeah, but: It has to be seen to be believed.

The Long Version: The Tokina AT-X 16-28mm f/2.8 PRO FX clearly isn't a pretentious lens. With a list price around $1100 Canadian, it's Tokina's 'full-frame' version of their wildly popular 11-16/2.8, and is a welcome addition to the wide-angle options for the 24x36 set. I'm glad to see it and I wish it well; I've never really used the lens, but I've heard some nice things about it. This review is simply of its lens cap.

Made of a soft and flexible plastic, the Tokina 16-28's unbranded cap has shallow ridges that provide only a feeble grip on the hood some of the time. Other times the round hood mates with the round cap in a way that gives it no grip at all. None. I've done this trick with the caps on each of the three lenses that I've tested, including both Canon and Nikon mounts. Words can't convey the reality of it, so I've done an eighteen second MOS video.

(youtube link)

Hands down, no question, without a doubt: this is the worst lens cap I've ever seen. You could use the metal cap from the Olympus 7-14 to prop up an artillery shell; the plastic caps from the Panasonic 7-14 and Nikon 14-24 aren't as impressive but they are still incredibly solid. Like the cap for the Tokina 16-28, all of these work to protect the bulging front element by attaching with a pressure-fit around the outside of the built-in petal hood. This design failure isn't the result of Tokina trying a daring new idea: even the press-on plastic tail cap from a Nikon 50/1.8D puts this front cap to shame.

The problems still don't stop when the Tokina cap is attached firmly enough that its own weight won't dislodge it. It can be knocked off by even a slight bump or nudge; I'd be mildly concerned about losing it if it wasn't guaranteed to fall off while the lens is still in the camera bag. The cap also isn't deep enough to completely cover the gaps in the petal-shaped lens hood, so it doesn't even protect against dust. This might also be a good time to point out that the lens can't take filters, and the width of its vision requires a shallow hood. The only real option to protect this lens, after spending a thousand dollars on it, is to spring a little extra for a neoprene Hood Hat. Nice. There are certain things that I would like to take for granted, and the ability of a company with as much experience as Tokina – a division of Hoya, and a stablemate of Pentax – to design a lens cap that works properly shouldn't be too much to ask. Sure, Canon hasn't yet discovered the centre-pinch design, but this stuff shouldn't be pushing the state of the art. It boggles my mind that something this flawed made its way into the box of a shipping product, let alone a lens as expensive as this one. It can't be an accident that Tokina doesn't put their name on it. updated: rumour has it that there is an improved mkII lens cap out there, and it can be ordered through an authorized dealer as a replacement for the one that I've reviewed here. It may even already be installed on some of the more recently made lenses. I would like to thank Tokina for giving people one more example of how important it is to buy from a real local camera store, and hope to have a further update once I've been able to try out the new design.  updated once more: I've now seen the new design in person – both of them, in fact. One is a branded press-on cap that's deeper and made of rigid plastic, while the other is an elaborate design that clips into place and offers excellent protection. Lens caps can indeed be swapped out, but the store has to pay for the new caps up-front and is only reimbursed when the old models are sent back to them, and the cost isn't insignificant. Replacing the lousy design that I've reviewed here may not be all that easy.

last updated 4 aug 2011

CSI Crime Scene Tape

Concept:  5 out of 5
Execution:  2 out of 5
Yeah, but:  It's too funny not to love.

The Long Version: The MGM Grand casino has an attraction based on the popular TV show "CSI", which is the original series about armed scientists and lab technicians who are lightly assisted by the police as they solve crimes. Fittingly, the theme attraction is in the namesake city of Las Vegas, while the show is actually filmed in Los Angeles.

Penny brought this tape dispenser home for me from a weekend in Las Vegas, and it took me quite a while to stop laughing. It's a standard-issue plastic tape dispenser, except for the graphics and the tape inside. As the "Crime Scene" version of Scotch tape, it's translucent yellow with bold black text, and mostly does a very good job mimicking the real thing.

If there's one thing that CSI:TV loves, it's spin-offs and crossover episodes. In that spirit I applied the crime scene tape to a brand-new plain black Mighty Wallet, where its translucent yellow field gets toned down by the black Tyvek. It still stands out quite well, and I've been impressed by how securely the tape has adhered to the textured-plastic surface. This combination has piqued the interest of some Mighty Wallet connoisseurs who think that I have a previously-unknown design, which I suppose it is.

The only disappointment with the CSI Crime Scene Tape is that it's branded for the TV show, with the logo appearing in between each reiteration of 'crime scene do not cross'. So it won't be mistaken for the real thing, or even a small version of reality – and yet it's entertaining nonetheless. What else can I say? It's a perfectly fitting souvenir for the show.

last updated 6 mar 2011

Life Brand Folding Travel Toothbrush

Concept: 2 out of 5
Execution: 1 out of 5
Yeah, but: Something small and frail and plastic…

The Long Version: Travel toothbrushes are one of those things that inherently compromise function for convenience. Where they fold, whether it's through a hinge or from a two-piece design, is invariably going to be a weak point. Hopefully it won't be so weak that the brush will fold over backwards at the slightest provocation, or completely come apart at the feeble hinge the way this one does. It's also nice when the 'closed' position covers and protects the bristles, rather than leaving some of them splayed out to the side of the handle. This folding toothbrush, marketed under the Life Brand Essential's line by Shopper's Drug Mart, is simply the pits.

There's a reason why the two-piece style, where the brush head inverts and is stored in the hollow lower handle, is so common. It works. This one-piece folding design ranks right around 'better than nothing', so I'll probably leave it in my kit, but I'll be looking for a better one as well. On the other hand, given how easy it is to leave toothbrushes behind, maybe the two-for-one pack of disposable-quality plastic is exactly right. You pay your money and you make your choice.

Gary Fong Collapsible Lightsphere Packaging

Concept: 2 out of 5
Execution: 0 out of 5
Yeah, but: Just the wrap, man, just the wrap.


The Long Version: Gary Fong is the Ken Rockwell of lighting modifiers. And that's fine - this review doesn't have anything to do with either one of them, or even the actual product that's in the Gary Fong Lightsphere® Collapsible™ box. It's not even about how the hell someone managed to trademark the word 'Collapsible™'. And for the record, yes, the Gary Fong Lightsphere® Collapsible™ does what it says it does. Two ping-pong balls taped to the top of your flash would also do what the Gary Fong Lightsphere® Collapsible™ does, but that's not the point. This review is just about the package that it comes in.

The box itself is thin black cardboard with a sticker that carries all of the text, graphics, and photos. This is a cost-effective way to create the multi-lingual packaging that's needed for international sales, and the box follows the current trend of keeping it as small as possible. It does fall down a bit by having plastic shrink-wrap around it, but that may add enough integrity to let them use a lighter grade of boxboard. There are also some style points involved by having the actual Lightsphere® Collapsible™ wrapped in coloured tissue paper instead of more unnecessary plastics. But that's hardly enough to motivate a review: the photos are where things start to get interesting.

We see an attractive model in the advertising version of the classic Comedy / Tragedy masks, known as the 'before' and 'after' photo. The one labeled "Without" shows a woman who's rehearsing for her passport photo, while the "With" looks like she's just heard a funny joke from a good friend. Sure, it's a blatant and obvious attempt to manipulate the viewer, but it's so clumsily done that it's impossible to take offense. Besides, given what these things look like when they're stuffed on top of a speedlight, I'm sure that lots of people really do laugh and smile when they see them. But let's look closer, shall we?

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Here's the "Without / Sans" photo. It's a pretty standard straight-blast flash photo: the hallmark of novice camera users and really abysmal wedding photography. Nothing too remarkable here, so let's move on to the "With / Avec" image.

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It's a huge improvement, verging on school portrait quality. It's so good, it's almost impossible to believe that a single on-camera flash could possibly create these results. Take a good look at the catchlights in her eyes in this photo, and compare them to the "Without / Sans" image. It really is impossible to believe that this was taken using a single on-camera light source, no matter how artfully it's bounced. In fact, the soft caressing shadows look even better than in the similar images on the Gary Fong Product Page, where our attractive model has only one catchlight reflected in her eyes.


Fancy that.

Corrugated Plastic Sheets

Concept: 3 out of 5
Execution: 2 out of 5
Yeah, but: Not to be confused with chloroplast.

The Long Version: I have to admit that I love this stuff. True, like most plastics it's a massive environmental problem and the scourge of marine environments everywhere, and its ubiquity for cheap advertising signs makes it an urban - and suburban - blight as well, but it's also extremely handy. 'Coroplast' is the Xeroxed Kleenex of the corrugated polypropylene copolymer world, and since that's what the sign said where I bought mine, that's what I'll call it here. Other companies do make it, and call it different things, but who has that kind of time?

It's lightweight, rigid, and cheap. Right there we know that politicians and advertisers are going to flock to it, so it's a staple for lawn signs and anything else that needs a weatherproof printed surface. It comes in more colours than a CRT-iMac, and can be used for all kinds of interesting things. There's low-cost greenhouses and office dividers, but also for all kinds of DIY projects like model airplanes and small animal cages. Who knew? But by far the most interesting thing is how handy it is for photography.

I have a large sheet of translucent white Coroplast that I'll use as a background or a diffuser, and a smaller sheet of opaque black that I'll cut up for black cards. My most inspired move was to stack and bundle the black plastic to make a grid for my SB600; the initial proof-of-concept hack job has been so effective that I haven't bothered to make any others. (For anyone who's wondering, it's being held together with my favourite adhesive.) The photo above is being lit by three strobes, with one on the camera and another underneath the white plastic to brighten it up a bit. Thanks to the marvel of Nikon's AWS/CLS speedlight integration - similar abilities can be found in many Olympus cameras and a mighty one Canon product - this is an incredibly easy way to create a simple light box. That's how I took all of the product photos for my 20/1.7 review, like this next one that would have illustrated a part about using the lens with a three-stop ND filter.

The biggest problem with Coroplast can be finding it and getting it home. Most craft and art supply stores in Toronto seem to be selling it these days, and if they don't, there's always sign supply places. The real trick is to find it in pieces smaller than thirty square feet, but the good news is that a simple knife can solve some of the transportation problems. After that, it just takes a couple of light wipes to get rid of the ever-present dust and it's ready to go. It's light, rigid, durable, whiter than foamcore and more cleanable than bristol board. It's not the only thing I need for my home studio, but I use it for a huge amount of the photos that I take for these reviews, even if you can't see it.

Coke's 414mL / 14oz Bottle

Concept: 2 out of 5
Execution: 3 out of 5
Yeah, but: Let's all contain our excitement.

The Long Version: I'm old enough that seeing the words "New" and "Coke" on the same label leaves me a little apprehensive. The good news, such as it is, is that the beverage itself hasn't changed - the excited yellow "NEW!" banner on the bottle merely refers to the packaging. The huge innovation is a 414mL size polyethylene terephthalate container, which joins the existing 600mL and 710mL plastic bottles. There was once a 500mL bottle, which was replaced by the 20% larger size, so there's a certain feeling of deja vu to this new container as well.

I haven't actually seen these bottles on the shelf yet, but a report puts the pricing closer to the 355mL can than the existing bottles. That's not too surprising, given the capacity, but to be honest I would prefer the smaller size to the 600mL bottle even if the price-per-milliliter was slightly higher. They're nicer to hold and drink from, and even at the rate that I consume the stuff, a 600 or 710mL bottle is likely to be warm and flat by the time I'm done with it.

While I prefer cans for home and work, I have a hard time buying them singly from a convenience store because I know how much cheaper they are in a case. When I'm out and about, I'll buy bottles simply to rationalize the higher price of getting a single container from a fridge. Coke's not exactly betting the business on this new venture, but hopefully the smaller portion size will be a success. It's the one I'll be looking for from now on.

Mighty Wallets by Dynomighty Design

Concept: 4 out of 5
Execution: 3 out of 5
Yeah, but: It's the Swatch of wallets.

The Long Version: It looks like paper, but it's actually the indestructible stuff used to make things like ultra-strong envelopes and the white clean-room suits that Apple once mocked. Dynomighty is a New York designer take who has taken advantage of Tyvek's printability and used it to create a thin, lightweight wallet with a huge range of graphics. School notebooks, original art, comic books, the first three thousand digits of Pi, or even solid colours and a blank page - there's something for everyone. And like Swatch watches, they're cheap enough that being whimsical won't leave your new wallet empty. I've already bought three of them, and am looking for a couple more.

The material itself is smooth and soft with a slight grain; it almost feels a little bit like leather. While it can be cut, it's essentially impossible to tear, so wear from daily use isn't much of an issue. While it is possible to write on Tyvek, not all pens will work properly, so try it out in an inconspicuous part first. Because the wallet is made by folding a single sheet of material, it's easy to open the flaps that hold it together for a great test surface. I've added an address to my Airmail wallet just to give it that extra bit of authenticity.

The Mighty Wallets have two pockets for bills, with a section in between that they suggest using as a quick-access business card holder. While I suspect that they're just turning a bug into a feature, it does work well and is reasonably secure. Just don't push them in too far, or they'll get bent where the wallet folds, and be careful not to point the pockets at the ground. The inside face has two cut compartments for plastic cards; enough for some people, but compulsive store-points collectors and gift-card users will want to look elsewhere. Credit card, bank card, brand-new drivers license, and my health card - for American readers, that's the one that means I never have to worry about how much it costs if I get sick - all ride up front in these secure inward-opening slots. Extra business cards, video store card, and the like normally go in one of the two bill pockets. At first that's all I thought I'd use the redundant pocket for, but it does come in handy for keeping a set amount aside, or for carrying two different currencies.

One of the great practical aspects of the Mighty Wallet is how easy it is to carry. In addition to weighing almost nothing, it's incredibly thin. After all, it's essentially plasticized paper, and its folded construction is only nine layers thick. The way it's put together is very clever, using only a small amount of glue, and while it's possible to unfold it (and see how it's made) it's secure enough for real-world use. And speaking of security, there's a certain anti-theft appeal of having a wallet that looks like an envelope, a scrap of paper, or a transit map. The counterpoint is that I'll have to be careful not to throw it out during my semi-annual desk clearing: TANSTAAFL.

When full of everything that I like to carry, the Mighty Wallet is still only as thick as my old leather wallet is when it's empty. They're cheap, easy to carry, fun, and can start up a conversation with the cashier. What can be better than that? Even after buying my third - after this review was originally written - I still find myself browsing Dynomighty's designs and being tempted by many of them. While I still have my standard-issue black leather wallet kicking around somewhere, I never really expect to use it again.