“Just looked at @TopKase site – case seems to have a rolling shutter for your phone similar to a roll-top desk? If so, AMAZING!”
That was the tweet I sent to TopKase that led to their lovely PR, Sophie, sending me a case to review. Why was I so excited about that rolling shutter?
Two reasons. First: the rolling shutter is the mechanism that allows a microfibre cloth behind it to wipe your screen free of smudges every time you use it. We shall return to this.
Second reason? I have an obsession with roll-top furniture. It satisfies my Upstairs Downstairs/Downton Abbey fantasies, as nothing says ‘posho’ quite like the satisfying rolling-down of wooden slats to hide your billet-doux from the prying eyes of maid, child or husband. In my fantasy world I write these posts at an antique desk (walnut or mahogany would be my preference) with a roll-down shutter that conceals the litter of products, tarot cards, books, magazines, Very Important Papers and ravens from the public gaze at the end of each working day. But in real life, the mess is there for all to see: so extreme that I can’t actually find the camera I intended to document this disaster zone desk with.
Sadly, my roll-top desk fantasy looks set to remain fantasy for some time – but a roll-top phone? That could be mine!
Well, it could have been, had I a fancier phone. But the Topkase is only available for iPhone 4 and upwards. Never mind; I was due to attend a family lunch, and fairly confident that amongst my relatives I would find a suitable and willing tester.
The TopKase attracted attention from all three generations gathered around the table. It’s bright, shiny, and awakens one’s inner magpie. Made from aluminium, it’s extremely light and a very comfortable fit in hands both as delicate as my sister-in-law’s and as manly as my little brother’s. As my brother is An Engineer, I passed it first to him for the once-over. I’m not exactly sure what flaws he looks for, but he has a critical mind, and I always enjoy the suspicious faces he pulls when examining objects of interest. ‘Really, really nice,’ he opined, handing it back. ‘What other colours do they come in?’
I am fortunate enough to have a beautiful Scottish sister-in-law, whose disposition is far too lovely for her to ever be mistaken for a blood relation. The Hot Scot took the TopKase from me, promising to give it a rigorous trial. The Hot Scot works with under-5s and has recently become the proud Mamma to Darcy, a Dachador* pup with needle-sharp gnashers and a penchant for chewing anything that the Hot Scot takes a shine to. If the TopKase could withstand rough handling from children and animals, it would be a mark in its favour.
If there’s a wrong way to fit something, I’ll find it. But even I can manage to fit the TopKase to an iPhone. Simple, clear and mercifully short instructions are included in the box: you just flick two little plastic snibs open, slide the phone in, close again, and voila: Brian’s Your Uncle. Your fancy phone is safe from knocks, drops, scratches, and bangs and comfortably clad in an eye-catchingly dramatic aluminium bodysuit. As you can see from the photos, the home button and speaker are still accessible, as are on/off, silencer, camera lens and all ports and slots. And the action on that roller shutter? It’s perfect! Smooth and easy, it glides to one side with the gentlest pressure from your thumb. The Hot Scot and I took turns playing with it, partly for the sensuous joy that it affords, and partly to say ‘aah’ each time the homepage showing Darcy the Dachador came into view.
And what of that micro-fibre cloth that backs the shutter, and wipes the screen clean every time you use it? How does that perform? Again, the answer is ‘perfectly’. The Hot Scot’s screen was impeccable upon every opening, even after I had seized it from her and smeared my greasy fingers all across the glass in an attempt to confound the TopKase. This is a truly wonderful USP. Even the most sartorially elegant are often let down by their phones – a smeary screen covered in fingerprints is an occupational hazard of touch-screens, and constantly dabbing away with a little cloth makes you look slightly OCD and demented. Far more chic to let the TopKase cover do the work for you, allowing your screen to sparkle – nay, dazzle – on each reveal.
The cry went up from all around the table: “Do they do one for Kindle?’ ‘I’d like one for my iPad – do they do one for those?’ TopKase were ticking the Attractive and Covetable box across three generations of the Clan Beheld: a quarrelsome and critical clan, not famed for their united viewpoint. I left the TopKase with the Hot Scot for thorough, comprehensive testing over a period of weeks and checked back in with her for the final verdict. (You should read the answers below using the accent of Oliver Wood from Harry Potter, feminine version).
Did it provide comprehensive protection against damage? ‘It did – even when I dropped it in the snow. I should have taken a photo of that, the pink looked really pretty against the white.’
Has it attracted admiring glances and envious scowls? ‘It has – all my friends really liked it and thought it was amazing how the cover slid round.’
Did it make you feel chic and elegant? ‘Yes! It’s so neat and curved, when you hold it it feels part of you. And it still looks as good as when we first put it on. And it’s quite advanced, quite sci-fi: the way the holes for the buttons are indented, it’s really well designed.’
Have you got bored with it at all? You’ve had it for some weeks now. ‘Not at all! I’m still really happy to use it.’
In conclusion then, the TopKase iPhone cover can be considered ‘the boss, the pip, the championship, the most tip top‘ … TopKase.
If you would like your own TopKase, it retails at £39.95 and comes in a range of gorgeous colours: Cherry Pink is pictured throughout this post, but it is also available in Jet Black, Satin Silver, Ruby Red, Royal Purple and Electric Blue and you can purchase them online at the TopKase site.
* If you would like your own Dachador, you will need an open-minded Labrador bitch and an ambitious male Dachshund …
