Mimosa – Mimosa II Camera

Camera collecting, as with collecting any other subject, can be a sign of some mental disorder, I hope minor. An entirely normal person will not invest resources in a collection of, say, matchboxes, spoons, lighters, or cameras. Having a pet takes less effort, costs less, and gives much more in return. I am yet to find any of my cameras wiggle its tail when I come home.

Subject in case, Mimosa.

Golf aficionados are familiar with major tournaments. There is a lesser-known pro golf tour, the Sunshine Tour, earlier known as the Sunshine Circle. The tour runs in Southern Africa and is a significant event for golfers and non-golfers alike.

My company was a tournament sponsor, and I was invited to participate in the pro-am. My golf was perhaps good for am-am minus, so I seconded this to my bank manager, but that’s beside the point.

The one event nobody missed was the sponsors’ breakfast, which, locally, was on the same scale as the Met Gala. Upon entrance, we were served with a flute of Mimosa. I don’t drink, for sure early in the morning, and I only knew Mimosa to be a plant, a touch-me-not shameful Mimosa bush. I do not remember how I braved that moment, but now, 40 years later, when I found a Mimosa camera offered for sale, I had to have it. This certainly supports the logic behind camera collecting, as stated in the first paragraph.

Back to the camera. Mimosa was a manufacturer of film, photographic chemicals and paper, based in Dresden, the hotbed of the German photo industry. At the war’s end, the company found itself on the workers’ paradise side of the border, under the Soviet sphere of influence, so it embarked on supplying the proletariat with cameras. Only, the lucky citizens of what would promptly become East Germany were more concerned about the necessities of life than Kodak Moments. The company seized making cameras by the mid-1950s. There is no record of sales other than East Germany.

Mimosa made two models, known as Mimosa and Mimosa II. As with other manufacturers at the time, due to supply chain constraints, there are several versions of shutter assembly and, to a lesser extent, glass. The camera on my bench has a Velax shutter, an unknown brand, possibly a rebrand of one of the available shutter makers. It is unlikely that Mimosa made its own shutters.  Other shutters seen/mentioned are Corona, Compur-Rapid, Prontor S or Prontor II. Lenes seen are Trioplan, Meritar and Victar. Looking online and in print, there are several different lens assembly styles, which may be due to this reason.

Mimosa introduced the first model in 1948, featuring a folding top viewer. The Mimosa II came a year later with an integral viewer. Apart from that and the haphazard lens assemblies, both models are identical.

The camera body is of odd proportion. Its portrait measurements are smallish, showing a lens assembly and a bit on the sides. What it lacks there, it makes in thickness, much thicker than an ordinary camera. Having said that, it looks thicker than it is, in proportion to the smaller front. There were other miniature 35mm cameras at the time, but this stands out. It resembles the Bosley B22 Set-O-Matic or the Perlux II, but while the Bolsey looks as if it was made by the village blacksmith, the Mimosa has the touch of a watchmaker.

The Mimosa is exceptionally built and immaculately finished, with thoughtful design and simplicity. I have gone through many cameras, and this seems to be the most elegant model.

• The top has a winder knob, a trigger, a manual reset frame counter, and a rewind button. The winder does not cock the shutter or stop after each frame. This is done by the sprocket at the film path.
• There is no rewind release button, so to rewind, pull up the winder knob, and it will uncouple the take-off pivot.
• The back has only the viewer lens, which is oddly small, to the point of being impractical. I believe the first model, with the folding viewer, was friendlier.
• The bottom has the thread mount only.
• To remove the back, pull on a lever that resembles a gargantuan toothpick, folded into the front left corner.  This turns a bar at the inside bottom that disengages the back cover.
• The entrails are busy, well-made, and different from the mill cameras:
  • The left bay that takes the cartridge has a pin hanging from the top, keeping the cartridge in place.
  • As the bottom comes fully off, a bottom-mounted hinged arm supports the cartridge from below. They were so meticulous in having the arm in place, so they added a pin in the body that keeps the arm from swinging even a little.
  • At the back, a top-hinged cover with a pressure frame is locked in place with a slight push.
  • A sprocket on the film path cocks the shutter and stops after each frame. This means that the camera will not fire without the film loaded.
  • The take-off spool turns in one direction and is disengaged when the winder is pulled up.
  • Two rollers at the sides of the image mask gently guide the film from feed to take-off.
• The snub lens assembly carries:
  • The focusing dial, marked meters, is closest to the body.
  • Next is the shutter speed dial, a modest B, 10-200. It takes holding the focusing dial to set a speed; otherwise, both turn in unison.
  • The aperture setting fin is at the bottom of the lens barrel.
  • A side-mounted flash port.

For the collector, it is a distinguished addition to the shelf. While it is an East German product, it does not exhibit the poor craftsmanship that later cameras showed. Not many were produced during the short factory’s life, so they are only occasionally offered. Nevertheless, for such quality, they are reasonably priced and highly recommended. For the shooter, sorry, looks elsewhere, as the tiny viewer makes it impossible to use.