At some point, Someone In Marketing thought that this design change would be a good idea for Roger Depuis watches:
I leave it to your imagination as to the average cost of a Depuis watch… now double it, and you’ll be closer.
I’m always reminded of the immortal words of another Roger, Roger Moore: “The point of language is to communicate your thoughts in the shortest possible time and in the clearest possible way.”
Now translate that into telling the time, and apply to wristwatches.
Other than guns and maybe knives, I don’t know that I’ve ever been much of a “collector” of anything. Oh sure, I’ve thought of collecting stuff before — watches, for example, if I were ever in a position to afford such a collection — but perhaps it’s a factor of growing older that the desire to own stuff of any one particular kind is no longer as attractive to me as it once was.
A good example is that of the aforementioned watches. I’ve long had a list of watches I’d like to own, simply because I love the workmanship and craft involved in the creation of such creatures. Then my list began to shrink, and a few criteria started to assert themselves: no battery-powered — or “quartz” — movements, and even automatic movements began to lose their desirability because, frankly, they keep shitty time, almost regardless of their cost. So: manual-wind watches. And then when I acquired my plain-Jane Tissot as a gift (thankee thankee, you-know-who):
…my earlier desire for other watches just evaporated. (I have a couple others which I wear, very occasionally, for specific occasions, but this Tissot works wonderfully well for me, 99% of the time.)
Shocking as it may be to some, this “shrinkage” has started to manifest itself in my most long-time passion, guns. (You may administer smelling salts at any point, now.)
Seriously. I have a few guns that I judge as essential for self-, home- and social defense needs, and a very few sentimental favorites — the Browning High Wall 1885 in .45-70, the Winchester 94 in .30-30 and of course the Mauser K98 in 8x57mm, to name but some, and then the plinking equipment (which don’t count because, of course, .22 guns are household appliances and not guns, as I’ve stated ad nauseam in the past).
Unlike many of my acquaintance, I have absolutely no interest — none whatsoever — of chasing after the latest whizzbang offering from SIG or Canik or whoever, so forget newly-manufactured guns, in toto.
But as I cast my eyes upon the contents of Ye Olde Gunne Sayfe on occasion, I sometimes wonder whether I should perhaps just get rid of a few outliers not because of financial reasons*, but simply because I cannot see myself shooting them ever again. And having reached that realization, what point is ownership?
In one of my occasional Lottery Dreams (see the post above), I often wonder what car or cars I’d get to replace the Tiguan, and what’s interesting is that I’m having precisely the same feelings that I have with guns and watches: nothing of recent manufacture at all — especially given that they’re all without exception loaded with electronic gizmos I don’t care for, or else gizmos that spy on you and/or could possibly be used to control your driving. In fact, the more I think about it, I’d probably have to go back to pre-1970s cars — fully resto-modded of course — to find a car that has not a single computer chip in its driving operation. And yes I know, modern cars are so much more efficient and economical than their forebears, but frankly, I’m prepared to put up with all the hassles involved with a stick shift and carburetors, for example, just as I’m prepared to have to manually wind my wristwatch every day or work the bolt of my rifle. (If push came to shove, I could even go with a wheelgun, much as I love me my 1911s, as any fule kno.)
Hell, I’ve even tossed out the kitchen knife block in favor of just two or three basic knives hanging on the magnetic strip on the side of the fridge. (I haven’t reached this stage with my other knives, however: I’m sentimentally attached to pretty much all of them for one reason or another, but I don’t know if I’m ever going to buy another one.)
It’s an interesting thing, this change that is coming over me: the desire to cut back, to simplify, to accept less in favor of plenty.
Anyone else out there feeling this way?
*Loyal Readers may recall that I had to hock all of them a while back, but I am pleased to report that the status quo has since been restored.
I think I’ve outgrown this kind of thing:
Men who like watches are split into categories. There are those who delight in intricate movements, what writer and watch obsessive Gary Shteyngart once described as ‘a small city of silver and gold gears and wheels, a miniature three-dimensional universe in which everyone is running to catch the next bus’. These men turn their noses up at overly commonplace brands like Rolex, which makes in the region of one million watches per year. Their preferred marques are rare and meticulously hand-crafted by the boutique manufactures of Breguet, Patek Philippe and Vacheron Constantin. A highly collectible Patek Philippe model, the limited-edition Calibre 89 (the world’s most complicated watch, with 33 functions and 1,278 parts) sold at auction in 2004 for more than $5 million.
…and that’s possibly because as I’ve got older and the chances are getting increasingly smaller of winning a lottery that could fund such an obsession, the prospect of being a horologista (what?) as explained in the above article. (I also detest this linguistic tic of turning words into ur-Spanish derivations, but that’s a topic for another time.)
Also, I have begun to prefer simple things — a stick shift over a Formula 1-style steering-wheel button gear-shifter, for example — and as far as watches are concerned, this has coincided with finally finding the watch I’m wearing at this very moment, a Tissot Heritage Petite Second manual:
…which happens to satisfy all my needs in that it’s simple, inexpensive, not showy or a “snob” brand, and made in Switzerland rather than in some Asian sweatshop.
A funny thing happened when I first strapped this watch on: in an instant, I lost almost all desire to own another watch — in fact, since that day I’ve not worn any of my other watches, and even in that lottery dream, the desire to own that Vacheron Constantin or Patek Philippe has almost disappeared.
My distant-#2 favorite watch is also a Tissot:
…but it’s driven by a battery (ugh) and the only reason I like it at all is that it has Roman numerals — that classical background is very difficult to shake off, let me tell you. I wear it pretty much only when I’m going to do something that may cause damage to what I’m wearing on my wrist, and at about $200 retail (under half the cost of the Heritage), I’m not going to slit my wrists if the thing gets busted.
All that said, I understand the fascination that watches hold for men — it’s almost exclusively male, this watch fetish — just as I understand (only too well) what makes men lust after certain cars, guns, cameras or any of the countless number of gadgets that take our fancy.
And as with all such obsessions, price is seldom a factor unless it’s stupid — stupidity as defined by the individual himself and not the uncomprehending others.
I recently showed a Dino Ferrari with a half-million dollar price tag — which is, as I said at the time, stupid money for a Dino. On the other hand, I see that Iain Tyrrell is restoring a Dino of similar vintage, and I estimate that the depth of said restoration will cost the Dino’s owner about a hundred thousand dollars — and for him, it’ll be worth every penny.
It wouldn’t be, for me; but I sure as hell understand why it would be, for him — just as I understand why someone would drop a still-greater amount on a Vacheron Constantin Overseas model, like this one:
Lovely, innit? If you’re into that kind of thing.
Here’s a nice little tribute piece about the Buck 110 folder.
I’ve always loved Buck knives — pretty much of any type or description — and I sometimes wonder why I don’t own more than one, a Buck 500 Gent (now called the “Duke”), which has been a constant companion for over forty years.
That 110 is calling me — drop point blade, ebony grip plus brass caps… what’s not to like?
[Add to cart]
I believe I’ve ranted a few times [hyperbole alert] on this back porch against modernity, and quite often against things that operate automatically as opposed to being physically operated by the user.
I know that automation makes things easier; it’s just that this ease comes at the expense of control, and I don’t like that. Here are two examples:
Bolt-action over semi-auto rifles. I know that it’s a lot of fun shooting an M1 Garand or M1 Carbine; I’ve done it often, and love it. But nothing gives me more satisfaction than working a fine bolt action, whether a Mauser turnbolt or a Schmidt-Rubin straight pull. Yes, it’s a bigger hassle to rechamber a cartridge manually than to have a mechanical doodad do it for you — although I would suggest that reloading a 30-round magazine is an even bigger PITA, as all the mag-loading assist devices on the market would suggest.
Manual transmission over automatic gearboxes. As with the above, there is a case to be made for the labor-saving nature of the auto gearbox — in stop-start traffic, for example — but with a stick shift, one is always in better control of the vehicle. I know, I’ve suggested that one doesn’t drive an automatic car as much as just steer it, and I’m not altogether wrong, either.
Now I’m going to add yet another category to the manual/auto dichotomy.
Some time back I was given a watch as repayment for a favor — I hasten to add that said repayment was absolutely not requested nor even expected — and this is the watch, a Tissot Heritage:
Note the supreme simplicity of the watch face: easy-to-read numerals, no date, and… a manual action. It’s the first manual watch I’ve owned since I was a pre-teenager, and I love it with a passion. I even wear it around the house, unlike all my other watches.
One of the things that has always bothered me about quartz (battery-powered) watches is that the damn batteries have to be replaced about every year, requiring a trip to the watch-repair place or jeweler. (I purchased a lifetime replacement policy which at least takes away the nagging cost of replacement — best $100 I ever spent — but it’s still a hassle to schlep my dormant quartz watches over to the mall, every damn year.) I have two of these things, and I love them both, for different reasons. They are the (l-r) Tissot 1853 and Dooney & Bourke Explorer:
(I know, the D&B is overly-complicated and a little bulky, but when I saw it back in 2003 I fell in love with it despite all that, and bought it on the turn.)
Neither of the above cost more than $300.
My only automatic watch is a Seiko Sports (about which I’ve ranted before):
The issue I have with this watch is that when the spring runs down (and it does that overnight), it is a huge PITA to reset the day and date. To keep it going, I would have to buy one of those winding motor thingies, and… oy, they break, stop working (just read the 1-star comments) and that would irritate the living shit out of me. En passant, they’re all made in China except for the German ones which can cost well over $500 (!!!). So… no.
The Seiko is the only, and last automatic watch I will ever own.
I don’t mind winding the Heritage every morning — it’s like making the coffee, pouring the breakfast gin or brushing the teeth: a simple daily maintenance chore, and the watch-winding can be done while I’m reading the newspaper. But it keeps time well, it looks great on my wrist, and… well, that’s really all I need from a watch.
Of course, it doesn’t end there. Having established that principle, I immediately went to Teh Intarwebz to see what other steam-powered watches I could get if Teh Lottery Gods were to ever get their shit together:
And if the lottery money was BIG:
As a rule, I don’t like gold watches… but Vacheron’s looks fantastic — and hey, everyone should have at least one gold dress watch, right?
And finally, this one because it’s a truly eccentric way of putting the date function onto a watch:
Needless to say, it is by far the most expensive watch ($25,000) on the list, but I did say a BIG lottery win, after all.
And every last one is a mechanical-wind action.
Over at Wristwatch_Revival, Marshall gets an old (1960s-era) Omega Constellation working again. And by the time he’s done…
I have no words. That tapered dial, the simple numerals… it whispers “elegance” like their newer bling-studded geegaws can’t (no pics: I don’t even want to put them on the same page as this beauty).
I would wear this watch every night of the week, and most especially if I were eating at a fine restaurant each night with, say, Nigella Lawson.
Am I alone in loving these things so much?
By the way, this is one of Marshall’s earlier shows, where he was still finding his way around the craft. There are a couple of mishaps, one hilarious.