I have owned shitloads of headphones. In the over-ear world, I've had Nuraphones, Bose NC700s, Jabra 85h, Hifiman, and more in the last few years. I've also owned lots and lots of earbuds, from Jabra to B&O, Etymotics to Chi-fi. Most recently I was using the Bose 700s, so that's what I'll be comparing most against.

More importantly, I appreciate good, usable design that makes it easy to do all the common things we do with headphones nowadays.

The B&O H95s are not perfect headphones, and they are ridiculously expensive... over £700. But they have won me over. And now at around £550 on the street, I think they’re actually good value.

Let's start with the bad.

The left speaker buzzes when in transparency mode (which is the default for conference calls, and a primary reason I picked these cans). This is potentially a huge irritation but actually doesn't bother me much most of the time.

The clamping force was, at least at first, tremendous. My head ached after a few hours. It has got much better after a couple of months of use, and after I changed to eyeglasses with thinner arms. The clamping force may be a blessing in disguise, though, because these are heavy headphones. They feel twice as heavy as my Bose.

For the first month or more, the headphones smelled strongly of plastic. This was hugely bothersome but luckily has subsided.

You can't use the headphones while charging. Fortunately not a problem most of the time.

The carry case is a huge, heavy block of aluminium. I just don't use it.

There's no on-ear sensor, so no auto-pausing/resuming of music. Actually I kinda like this, I feel in control.

Here's what's great.

The sound quality is sublime. Punchy, yet crystal clear. I really can't do justice to it. I have found new joy in familiar music, and I get a great experience on calls, lots of detail when watching TV shows, etc. They're in a league of their own, way better than Airpods Max for example. I find myself looking for excuses to put these headphones on.

The battery life is incredible. Twice what I was getting from my Bose. Of course it charges via USB-C. This is a huge boon. I can get through most of a working week without worrying about charging.

The UI is wonderful. There are touch controls on the earpieces for play/pause, next track, etc, and they never activate accidentally. There is a physical ring around the right ear that gives instant control over volume. There's a physical ring on the left ear that slides from full transparency to full noise-cancelling. The power switch is a physical switch. There is also a physical button I think for a voice assistant but I never use one.

The earcups twist to fold flat, and hinge inwards for a more compact size. This is good for shoving in a bag. Incidentally the earcups are pretty comfortable, but the cavity for your ears is smaller than on my Bose. Jabra 65t and 85t earbuds are my gold standard for comfort, and no over-ear headphones can live up to them. But these are pretty good.

Nobody has complained about my voice coming through on calls, which they did with my Bose.

It supports all the latest Bluetooth audio codecs. Apt-X Adaptive, Bluetooth 5.whatever. AAC.

The noise-cancelling is pretty good. There's no effect on voices, yet droning or rumbling noises mostly disappear. The Bose is probably better, more of a feeling of all sound being sucked away, but the B&O is more natural.

Comfort and build quality are excellent, with sturdy metal, luxurious leather, etc. The carrying case is luxurious, you get loads of cables and adaptors... it's a real premium experience.

The design looks beautiful: timeless and clean. I’ve got the ‘grey mist’ colourway and they are very pretty. You can of course get black, navy and brown.

Switching between connected devices — eg catching a Slack huddle on my laptop when I'm playing music on my phone — takes a couple of seconds but is otherwise totally reliable. Bluetooth range is normal.

The B&O app is reliable for changing settings, checking battery life, applying software patches, etc.

Like I said, not perfect, but these headphones make my day better. They feel great in my hand as I pull them from my bag. I get haptic feedback when I turn them on. They connect totally reliably, rock solid. I enjoy the music they play. When I'm on a call, I get my voice played back so I don't feel like I'm talking underwater. No complaints about the mics, the noise-cancelling, comfort, battery life. With all that good stuff, I can handle a little buzz in my left ear. And the silly price tag.

It’s a very simple graphical model intended to explain the typical lifecycle that a new technology passes through from innovation to maturity.

The stages are evocatively named:

The peak of inflated expectations

The trough of disillusionment

The plateau of productivity

The basic premise is that everyone gets excited about a new technology like drones and believes they will change the world, then everyone gets sad because they realize the tech isn’t ready or there are real-world challenges, then after time, things mature, regulatory frameworks etc catch up, and the tech is now an accepted part of the landscape, delivering mainstream value.

Some technologies never make it through the full cycle: most commonly, they drop off the bottom of the trough. And technologies move through at different rates.

Although I’m bastardizing and distorting the concept (which is intended to map a landscape of different technologies by their maturity) I find this model to be very useful for understanding my relationship to individual products, like a fountain pen. If you’ve ever heard the phrase ‘honeymoon period’, well, that’s the peak of inflated expectations.

Here’s how it goes.

The first step is the Technology Trigger. For me, this is when a new model lands on my radar, often via Instagram or a newsletter. I feel the ‘ooh’. There’s something new or different here: the material, the design, an innovation. Recent examples include Schon’s Monoc nib or the Preppy Wa series — there’s something that makes me keep a tab open or put it on my list.

At this point, I often impulse purchase, although sometimes I talk myself down and realize that, for me or in general, this novelty has little real value to offer.

The next step is the Peak of Inflated Expectations. In a market sense, this is when everyone is talking about the pen on social networks — it may even be sold out. Remember the Primary Manipulation craze?

Personally, this is my honeymoon period. I’ve got the pen, I’ve inked it, and I use it constantly, admiring the smart design features and aesthetics that attracted me in the first place.

Just like on the hype cycle, this phase varies in length. Sometimes the novelty wears off in a week or two, and either I just get bored or I start to notice flaws.

This is where we get to the Trough of Disillusionment. In a market sense, this might be the backlash against Conid’s pricing increases, or Visconti’s nib quality.

In a personal sense, this is often where I sell a pen. It’s like the delayed version of buyer’s remorse: I’m bored and a little regretful, and when I pick up the pen all I can notice are the little irritations: sharp threads, mismatched patterns, slippery grips. I compare it to my other existing pens and I feel the new arrival adds little extra value. I worry about long-term durability.

If I give it some time, this is where we reach the Slope of Enlightenment. If a pen has survived this long, I start to mellow on both its good and bad points. The good no longer wows me, the bad no longer enrages me, and I start to see it as an overall enjoyable tool in my toolbox.

And this is where things always go one of two ways.

Either a pen makes it to the Plateau of Productivity, where I feel growing loyalty and fondness, or it slips off the slope: I realise I feel nothing, I am uninterested by the pen. All of the drama of excitement and irritation has evaporated and now it’s just a stick of plastic.

I sense this in others when I see BST threads saying ‘I just don’t reach for it’. This can be a curiously alienating experience when you look in the proverbial mirror and say ‘why was I so excited that I NEEDED to spend hundreds of pounds on it on the morning of release?’

But I would rather focus on the pens that endure the cycle: pens like the Montblanc 149 or Lamy 2000, where for me lust and novelty have long gone, and I’m left with absolute trust and admiration. They are my partners for the long haul.

What ultimately drove me to give up the blog was the same thing that has driven me to deactivate my Facebook account and remove Instagram from my phone, again: the endless temptations of consumerism.

If I boil it down, my life and all my hobbies have always been about buying stuff.

When I was a kid I piled up Transformers and Micro Machines, Warhammer miniatures that I never played with, books that I never read, computer games that I didn't complete.

In my 20s I was a motorcyclist, and while I racked up miles and did my own maintenance, I also spent every weekend browsing gear and accessories.

I've dallied in wristwatches, buying and selling first budget Japanese then more expensive Swiss watches (although thankfully I've kept this under control).

I still can't resist vinyl or headphones, even though I rarely have time to sit and listen.

I’m a committed EDCer, with a tray of pocket knives, torches (flashlights) and tools, and a cupboard full of bags of all shapes and sizes.

Last year I bought a Brompton bicycle, and before I even racked up 50 miles on it I had spent rather a lot of money upgrading almost every component on it.

And, of course, the hundreds of fountain pens and thousands of inks I bought from 2016 to now.

This shopping addiction is not unusual, of course. Lots of people enjoy the thrill of buying, the anticipation of researching, the pride of collecting and owning nice things. I might take it a little further than most people, though.

That’s the maximalist.

And this urge battles another inside me: the minimalist urge.

One-bag travel, five-watch collections, one-tray pen collections, tiny houses, camper vans, ultralight camping, folding bicycles, capsule hotels, capsule wardrobes... these are the kinds of things that appeal to me.

I love the idea of self-sufficiency, small spaces, versatile objects that are buy-it-for-life. I crave the simplicity of having just a few, excellent things. Weniger aber besser, in the words of Dieter Rams.

So although I’ve bought more than 300 fountain pens, my collection today has been refined, and refined, and refined again to razor sharpness. Today I own around 15 fountain pens, which means 95% of the pens I’ve bought I have sold. (If you think 15 is a lot of fountain pens, oh boy, you need to meet some fountain pen collectors…)

My inner minimalist-maximalist conflict leads, inevitably, to a binge and purge cycle. I buy new things, enjoy them, and they either make the cut or don’t. In the end I can’t handle the excess any longer, and I purge.

The side effect of this endless and concerted binge and purge across so many categories of products has been a degree of refinement in the products I own. I originally planned this blog to be called ‘definitive designs’, reviews of timeless excellent products, like the HDS Rotary flashlight. And that’s still my intention here: to share the products that, for me, have beaten the binge and purge cycle and become permanent companions.

So: I don’t plan this blog to be a commercial affair. This is not an excuse to get back on the treadmill of new products. Quite the opposite. This is my way of celebrating the survivors. Thanks for joining me on the journey.