This is the Fuji X100V, and if you can even find one at the sticker price, consider yourself in luck. Fuji cannot keep production equal to the demand for this model, and they have been selling for as much as 50% above list price for months now.

Called the "poor man's Leica Q2," the X100V does not take a backseat to Leica's jewel-like competitor. Indeed, having owned and used both, I have never regretted trading away the Q2, while I am sorry almost every day that I cannot just grab my former X100V and head out the door. It is a machine so refined, so natural in the hand, and so responsive, it is a joy to use even before you see the results from its superb, fixed 23mm lens (35mm equivalent). And of course it is equipped with the analog dials and controls for shutter speed, ISO, and exposure compensation. These have for years made Fuji cameras a favorite among knowledgeable photographers.

Consider this . . . The rabid demand for this camera has generated a question that pervades the internet: What's the best alternative to the X100V? The answer, always, is the Fuji X100f, its predecessor. And in fact, the only difference between the two models is that the X100V has a flippy LCD screen and a redesigned lens with real performance improvements when used wide open. That's it. Same sensor, same body, same controls, same everything else. And guess what? The X100f, available only used, has seen its value skyrocket as well.

And this is only the latest chapter in the Fuji success story. The company's renowned X series of APS-C mirrorless cameras has dominated that market for a decade, in no small part because of the extensive, and very excellent, range of lenses. Even Fuji's kit zoom lenses are considered among the finest available from any manufacturer.

Notably, Fuji makes no cameras with full-frame sensors. Years ago, the president of the company said, "Canon and Nikon own that space. We'll skip it."

Instead, Fuji moved into the medium format market, and in so doing it turned the market on its ear. The GFX50s sports a 50 megapixel sensor and the GFX100s clocks in at 100 megapixels.

Being medium format sensors, the pixels are larger than their full-frame counterparts, and are capable of a richness of detail and color fidelity that no smaller sensors can match. Both cameras are barely larger than full-frame DSLRs, and they are easily carried in the field all day long by any reasonably fit photographer. And the lenses! It is just my opinion, but I think Fuji glass is fully the equal of Canon and Nikon's finest offerings.

On top of it all, Fuji's GFX series of cameras is available at a price point very much below that of the competition.

And then, of course, there are those analog dials. These are the absolute manifestation of the Fuji mystique.

I Downgraded to Leica

When Canon finally got around to making a commitment to mirrorless cameras, they did it with a vengeance. Within a matter of a few months, they released a whole new line of cameras, designated "R" models, that rivaled Sony for mirrorless market superiority.

Until a few years ago, I was a 30-year member of the Canon crowd, but their sluggishness in mirrorless development soured me. I became a Fuji devotee, in both crop sensor and medium format camps. (Still am, actually.) But chief among Canon's new offerings was the R5. When I heard about it, I was very interested. When I got a chance to hold it, I told myself, "this is it." I am nothing if not fickle.

The R5 was, on paper, a thing of wonder. Its spec sheet was among the most impressive out there -- so strong, in fact, that it could be argued that this camera would be at the head of the class for years to come. Sure, there were problems. The machine was supposed to be a video powerhouse, but this turned out to be embarrassingly untrue. And the longer some people (including me) used the camera , the more the ergonomics became both clumsy and uncomfortable. Consider the buttons, dials, and toggles! Nineteen of them on the top and back of the camera. Not to mention, of course, the all-new, all-ghastly menu system, which makes Sony's laby-rinthine menu look like "Goodnight, Moon" by comparison.

But Canon knows what it is doing, I thought. They began introducing new "RF" lenses, generally smaller and lighter than their "EF" predecessors designed for DSLRs. All the reviews said these new lenses were simply wonderful in every way, much improved over older versions. Frankly, it did not take me long to determine that this was nonsense. (Admittedly, my old eyes are not what they used to be.)

As if to assure its customers, and potential customers, of the "truth" of its lens superiority, Canon then set its lawyers against the third-party lens manufacturers. It issued cease-and-desist letters to Sigma, Tamron, and others. The letters said that the RF mount was strictly proprietary, and these "lesser" lens builders were forbidden to offer any lenses with the mount. What this actually said, of course, was that Canon was not so damned sure that its glass was all that impressive. And it also said to customers: "Can't afford our lenses? Too bad."

RANT BREAK: This reminded me of nothing so much as Nikon's monumentally stupid decision back

at the dawn of digital photography. The storied brand at the time controlled more than two-thirds of the

professional photography market, and the majority of serious amateur shooters owned, or wanted

to own, a Nikon. Well, Nikon had a proprietary digital RAW format, called NEF (Nikon Electronic Format).

Every other camera manufacturer also had such a format, with different designations. And all of those

manufacturers agreed to share the code of their RAW formats with Adobe and other digital photo

processing developers. But not Nikon. No. They said that if you want to shoot RAW with our cameras,

you must use our software to process it, and you must pay $199 for the software. The problem, of course,

was that Nikon's software sucked. And overnight, poof, just like that, Nikon lost its professional market.

Suddenly, on the sidelines of every NFL game, and under the basket of every NBA court, white lenses appeared

(Canon's long-time design signature for its telephoto glass). Serious amateurs soon followed the pros to the

exit door. Then consumers at large. Today, Nikon is but a pale shadow of its former self, and Canon might learn

a thing or two about what arrogance can do.

This could turn into an even longer story than it already promises to be. But I will spare any readers who are still here, and will cut to the chase: I was very disappointed with the R5. And I was equally disillusioned with the lenses I paid too much for. So I dumped the lot, at a loss of about 25% of my investment.

I replaced it all by downgrading to a Leica SL2, complimented by lenses from Sigma and Panasonic. Leica joined with those companies a while back to create something called the "L-Mount Alliance." Under that agreement, the three companies share respective technological strengths to create lenses for the L-mount developed by Leica about a decade ago.

But why call it a downgrade?

Simple. The SL2 is obviously inferior. I mean, it has an elegant, simple, and easy-to-grasp menu, but instead of being 30+ pages long, it's only six pages. Its video capability is on-par with the R5, but it doesn't overheat to the point of actually burning your hand. (An experience not to be missed, if you ask me.) The Sigma Art lenses are clearly just refined Coca Cola bottles, priced as they are well below Canon's offerings. (Never mind that some misguided reviewers have described them as some of the finest glass available.) And of course, the camera offers images with the "Leica Look, " which is an Actual Thing that simply cannot compete with the clinically pure and crisply analytic rendering of the R5's sensor, algorithms, and firmware.

But the real reason it's a downgrade is all of the missing buttons, dials, and toggles on the top and back of the camera. The SL2 only has seven such appendages, poor thing.

Built to Last

If you are as old as I am (anyone? anyone?), and you bought a camera in, say, the 1960s, your natural expectation was that it would last your whole life if you wanted to keep it that long.

It's just the way things were. And my, how things have changed. These days, few people think about keeping a digital camera more than four or five years. After all, it will be "obsolete" long before that. Its electronics will be rusty-dusty, and it will be megapixel-poor and limitation-rich. Who knows? It may even stumble in its ability to consistently and boringly generate the sort of sterile color management and clinical sharpness for which digital cameras are so justly renowned.

Now consider this old machine here. She is about 10 years younger than I am. She was made in Stuttgart, Germany by the Nagel company, which was owned by Kodak, and she is designated the Kodak Retina IIIc. Her lens is a superb 50mm f/2 Xenon made by Schneider-Kreuznach, she has a Leica-style rangefinder, and she has a still-working and accurate selenium-cell light meter built in.

She is a jewel, and she cost me $129.95, including a beautiful and original leather case. (I soon discovered that the shutter speeds slower than 1/15 second do not work, so I got a partial refund. My final cost was $89.95.)

It may come as no surprise that to put a single roll of film through the camera and have it developed and scanned cost about 50% of the price of the camera itself. I used Ilford HP5 Plus, ISO 400.

So . . . at the ripe old age of 67, how did she do? Judge for yourself:

NIKON FM3A (2001-2005)

The workhorse of every photography class in the country for 20 years, this tough customer is today priced at nearly $1,000. For that cost, however, you also typically get the legendary 50mm f/1.4 Nikkor lens.

The camera sports a hybrid electro-mechanically controlled focal plane shutter, aperture priority auto-exposure mode, and Nikon's traditional match-needle exposure meter. You can spend more, but you can't get any better.

CANON A-1 (1978-1985)

For hundreds of dollars less than the Nikon, you can pick up a pristine Canon A-1 with the famed 50mm f/1.8 Canon FD lens.

A camera of historical significance, the A-1 launched Canon into the photographic stratosphere. More than two million were sold. It was the first camera in history to contain a microchip which provided a programmed auto-exposure mode. The entire system of camera and many lenses set new standards for optical performance and functional flexibility.

OLYMPUS OM-1 (1972-1988)

Available in several variations over the years (and definitely not to be confused with today's digital OM-1), this classic can be had today for less than $200.

It is distinguished by its compact size and weight, and by the excellent series of Leica-sized Zuiko lenses available for it.

This is an all mechanical camera, but there is a through-the-lens exposure meter that controls a needle visible in the viewfinder. The whole machine is small, light, and quiet.

NIKON F (1959 -1973)

The beast that started it all. Certainly the most celebrated SLR in photographic history, and worthy of all the praise that has been heaped on it through the years.

Today, if you're not a purist cosmetically, you can pick up one of these for under $300. Budget another $200 for a Nikkor "nifty-fifty" lens, and there you are.

Built like a hockey puck, and all but indestructible. Get the version with the standard prism (as shown here), and download a free light meter app for your smart phone.

The camera and lens pictured at right are priced at $17,240. Few amateur photographers under the age of, say, 50 have ever used a Leica, much less owned one. The cost is daunting, to say the least, and using the camera can be a challenge.

This rangefinder camera, the M11, has no video functions. It does not offer auto focus of any kind. All of the relatively tiny lenses made for it (including the $8,295 one you see here) are manual focus. Its metering system, by modern day standards, is primitive. Its burst rate is a measly 4.5 frames per second. It has no image stabilization. If you want to take out the SD card, you'll have to remove the battery first. And the rangefinder tends to slip slightly out of alignment after any significant bump in the road. (This makes precise focusing impossible if the lens is wide open, which is precisely how Leica lenses are designed to shine.)

But. But. On the other hand, the camera has a 60mp sensor, and it permits you to increase effective dynamic range by shooting at 36mp or 18mp. This is achieved through a process called "pixel binning" and "smart remapping." (Don't ask me.)

It also has 64gb of internal memory, so you don't even need an SD card. And it has a battery that will last all day and then some.

But. But. $8,995 for the camera body alone! Why would anyone, even someone with money to burn, buy it?

There are, of course, wealthy people who collect Leicas the way others collect salt and pepper shakers or ceramic chickens. Then there are the doctors: the Beverly Hills plastic surgeons and Palm Beach psychiatrists who gobble up Leicas as fast as the factory can pump them out. (Leicas have, in fact, been called “doctor’s cameras” for decades, only because doctors are among the few who can afford them – yet seldom actually use them.)

But what of amateur photographers who merely languish in the bourgeoisie?

Leica USA’s resident expert on the M system, Justin Stailey, puts it this way: “Most people who are new to range-finders will spend the first half day cursing the camera and its quirks, but then something – something – happens, and they never want to put it down again.”

Maybe that something is a Zen-like experience in which the camera fades away. Suddenly, you get the feeling that you’re just holding your hands up to your face; there is no camera there. You see the photograph, and the subject is seen double in the bright rangefinder, so you quickly jog the focus lever on the lens that isn’t there to bring the double image into a single and gleaming and sharp-as-life singularity, and you press a button that you can feel but barely. And the camera that isn’t there whispers as the shutter trips. (The mechanical shutter of the Leica M11 is unquestionably the quietest in the world.)