An honest review of the Leica IIIF after six months of daily carry

Six months ago I swapped a perfectly sensible SLR for a 1952 Leica IIIF, on the theory that a smaller camera gets carried more. Forty rolls later, here's the honest reckoning.

The good

It really does get carried everywhere. With the collapsible Elmar 50/3.5 tucked in, the whole thing slips into a coat pocket. Build quality is absurd — this camera is seventy-four years old, has clearly worked for a living, and every control still moves like it was assembled last week. The shutter is quiet enough to use in a church.

And the discipline is real. No meter, no rangefinder-coupled wides, separate viewfinder and rangefinder windows: you slow down, you scale focus, you learn Sunny 16 properly. My keeper rate went up.

The bad

Loading. You trim the film leader with scissors (keep a template in the ever-ready case), thread it blind up through the baseplate, and the first two times you will absolutely fog a frame swearing at it. The separate rangefinder/viewfinder dance is slow for moving subjects, and anything wider than 50mm means an accessory finder in the shoe.

Flare is a fact of life with an uncoated Elmar — embrace it or buy a hood.

The verdict

The IIIF is not a rational purchase; a Zorki 4 does the same job for a tenth of the price, and honestly does it well (see the buying guide elsewhere on this site). But there is something about a machine this old making pictures this good that keeps a roll running through it every week. It has made me a more deliberate photographer, and it starts more conversations at bus stops than the dog does.

Forty rolls in: no regrets, two fogged frames, one strap lug slowly wearing a hole in my favourite coat.