Hotel Stationery: The Aman Tokyo

Written By Jeremy .

With my participation in the stationery hobby entering its eighth year in 2026, I’ve accumulated quite the stack of “premium” paper. Some are mementos: a Moleskine hardcover gifted by a former student, another Moleskine from a faculty member, a Kyukyodo notebook from a weekend trip to Kyoto with my partner. Others I sought out on my own: Graphillo, LIFE Bank Paper, Yamamoto’s Canopus, a letter set from Crane & Co., and so forth. Yet among all this premium paper, the ones I cherish most are the hotel memo pads I’ve picked up here and there.

Hotel stationery is at its best when it’s used for small, intimate things: a thank-you note, a sketch of the skyline, the name of a restaurant scribbled down before you forget it. In my imagination, it’s where I’d write the lyrics to a new song, or catch a sudden eureka moment, but we live with what we have. The paper can be excellent at a nicer establishment, but it’s never a given. Sometimes my fountain pen bleeds right through. When that happens, I glance back at the logo on the header, tear the page off, switch to a ballpoint, and all is forgiven. The more menacing (nicer) the logo, the quicker the forgiveness comes; my vulnerability to romanticize getting the better of me. Every so often, I’ll find a torn sheet from a hotel memo pad tucked into an old journal, and the memories of that trip come flooding back. And then I start to wonder: which hotel actually has the best stationery? There was just one problem—I’d never built a collection on purpose. So, on one Tokyo afternoon, I visited eight hotels and asked them one question: can I see your memo pad?

In this series, I’ll go through the stationery I’ve collected along the way: how it feels to write with, how it holds up to fountain pens and ink, and—most importantly—whether it makes me feel like I’m Julia Roberts in Eat, Pray, Love.

The Aman, Tokyo — Memo Pad

Right off the bat, Aman Tokyo’s memo pad announces itself through its odd dimensions. It's long in a way that feels slightly impractical. You can't slide it into a jacket pocket without it protruding; it insists on being carried properly. The shape reminds me of a checkbook, and I wasn't sure I liked it at first. But the confidence of the inconvenience won me over.

The memo pad’s unusual (tall) shape. Courtesy of the Aman Tokyo’s front desk.

There are only ten sheets to each pad. Which is a shame. Not enough for even a short stay, and mostly because this is some of the best paper I've written on. Better than plenty of specialty papers designed with fountain pens specifically in mind. It has a tasteful thickness, somewhere around 90–100 gsm at a guess, and whatever has been done to the surface gives it a pleasant feedback. Aman’s paper has opinions about where the nib should go, and they happen to be good opinions.

No bleed through on this paper whatsoever.

With my control setup (Montblanc 149, medium, Pelikan Royal Blue): ink pools without feathering, there's no bleed-through, and it doesn't vanish into the fibers the moment you lay it down. It pulled out tones in Pelikan Royal Blue that I didn't even realize were in there. My 149 sings on this pad in a way it doesn't on paper that costs considerably more.

The paper extracted some shading qualities from Pelikan’s Royal Blue.

The Aman branding isn't subtle, but it's not obnoxious either. The logo sits at the header in a size that catches your eye before anything that might be written on it, yet it doesn't feel like it's shouting over your text. It occupies its space with the same confidence as the dimensions: assured rather than insistent. If I received a note written on this memo pad, I'd probably hesitate before discarding it, even after the information stopped being useful.

Writing feel: 9/10
Fountain-pen friendly: 10/10
Julia-Roberts-evoking: 7 Neapolitan pizzas out of 10

—Montblanc 149, Pelikan Royal Blue

Jeremy .
Next

Japanese Ateliers: Part II