There are plenty of things one can experience that will result in permanent change. Decapitation, a partner that is far too flirty for one’s own capabilities, riding a motorcycle, and drinking brandy. Decapitation is obvious. I shan’t elaborate on the next example. Riding a motorcycle is addictive and usually becomes a lifestyle for those who try it. One of my watchmaker’s wisest apophthegms is “don’t buy me brandy, it’s too good,” a lesson I learnt hugging a toilet bowl last December.
The same can be said for vintage watches. My first vintage watch, my Camy Club-Star, is barely a vintage watch. Sure, it’s half a century old, but I’m the first owner. I still consider NOS to be vintage, but it feels different to a watch that has seen Hell and then some. That’s beside the point really, my focus in this post is size and how it has affected me.
Size matters. It matters a lot. A watch can come with an inbuilt masseuse and cocktail bar, but if it measures a hair above 38mm, (I can go a bit larger for dive watches, if I ever buy one,) I’d rather take an old Oris that looks like it fell from a truck. My taste in size used to be diverse. I loved my 42mm Casio Edifice chronograph, and I still love it with all of my being, but I don’t wear it. It’s last few wears were pity wears. It looks huge on me. It could be worse, yes, but it doesn’t feel right anymore. There was a point in time where I could wear it next to my 34mm Club-Star, but those days are gone.
That Edifice is the most money I’ve ever spent on a watch. That’s a lesson in doing homework before pulling the trigger and a bit of insight into how little I spend on each watch. The fact that I don’t love the Edifice anymore stings a bit, but there’s a price to be paid to learn your niche; I accept that.
Everyone can rant about watch size. I think it’s the next wave of marketing from the big brands. Oversized and overpolished Hellspawn is out of fashion. Petite and curvy is in. Just give it a minute and all of the mainstream brands will accommodate more and more of us who like smaller watches. Enthusiasts talk about it and debate for hours why their opinion is the objective truth and should be the basis for a time-worshipping religion, which is free marketing for the nerds in suits in Switzerland. Soon, wearing a small watch won’t be like drinking absinthe: it will become a mainstream thing. I doubt the average man is ready for sub-35mm yet, but the slew of 36mm releases suggests that I’m not pulling everything in this post out of my ass.
The reason why I think smaller watches are addictive is the way that the strap or bracelet sits on the wrist. The bracelet is almost invisible on my Edifice. The lug-to-lug covers most of my wrist, so all I see from head-on is an end link. Compare that with my petite and curvy Oris, which is just 31,5mm at the waist. The strap or bracelet is not only visible, but plays a more active part in the aesthetics of the watch. My silver Kiefer Expandro bracelet fits it so well because the worn chromed brass case matches with it and the almost-salmon patinated dial complements it. A black leather strap looks good on it too, because it breaks up the lighter tones of the dial and case. I’m no colour expert as made apparent by my vocabulary, but the colour, shape and texture of a strap play a larger role in the aesthetics of a small watch.
The other thing that I like about a smaller watch is the fact that more skin is left exposed. I believe it makes my wrists look bigger. If my wrists are bigger, then I am bigger. If I am bigger, I am more confident. Skin tones also play a role here too. Being a member of the “Rainbow Nation” means I have access to friends of all races and backgrounds. This is extremely fun for making jokes, as young men do, but it also made me envious of those with darker skin. Gold just looks so much better on them. If a chocolate-skinned girl approached me wearing my Camy “Battle of Hastings,” my heart and lungs would simultaneously give out and cause me to die on the floor. My friends who are more in tune with the times say that dying in front women gives them the “ick,” which is something to be avoided.
Small watches seem to allow so much more room to play with colour. Why can’t I just buy a modern small watch then? It’s complicated. I can get a 31mm Rolex Datejust, but that size only works for vintage field and dress watches for me. A modern Datejust has some sort of aura about it that makes it feel more sports watch than dress watch, so that won’t work. The 35mm Tissot PRX is quite snazzy, but it wears larger than the on-paper specifications suggest owing to its case shape. Modern aesthetics just don’t lend well to smaller cases. I could always get something vintage-inspired, but, for some reason, those have never really worked for me either. Vintage watches are supposed to look beaten-up at worst, mildly aged at best, never perfect. That’s why I love them.
I have reconsidered many dream watches in my time as a collector and enthusiast. The Ball Engineer III Marvelight Chronometer Caring Edition is out because of size. The Rolex Milgauss is hanging on by a thread. The Breitling B25 Datora is on shaky ground. So, do I just not have a dream watch anymore? Correct. Why aspire to something I already know about? It’s like making learning the Pythagorean theorem my life’s goal. I did that. I know that a²+b²=c². Learning it again won’t change the theorem, the way it’s applied or my understanding of it. What I mean by this analogy is that I would much rather dig around old pawn shops and auction sites in the hope of finding diamonds in the rough, or even plain simple polished glass in the rough. There’s so many stories that a vintage watch can tell, which is probably the cause of my predicament. Love can’t be premeditated. You can’t plan on loving a stranger; you learn to love them or it catches you by surprise. I want something with history and legacy, not because I’m scared of creating my own, but because I’ll love it more knowing its story.
I’m overly emotional. I need a story. I need a reminder that someone else has appriciated and loved the thing that I have. Instead of aspiring to something fresh out the box, style, size and story push me towards dusty old containers.
The world is better today than it was sixty years ago, but I can’t move on when it comes to watches. Watches are better too, but better doesn’t mean I love them more. A new watch hasn’t tickled me in a while…
The Escapement Room 