Obviously not, that would be stupid. That’s like saying I’m done with breathing or drinking beer. It won’t happen. That being said, I can’t help but notice a pattern in my buying and interests.
I’m diversifying, not in watch type or function, because dress watches and old everyday watches (watches that did everything, like my Camy Club-Star, acting as one’s only watch) are perfect. I don’t need a dive watch, because I don’t usually dress up as a diver or get wet. Despite what some people may think, it actually rains in Africa, sometimes quite a lot, but I’m not worried about my watch getting wet due to an ingenious African invention first used by a Zulu chief millennia ago, called an “umbrella.”
I’m diversifying away from watches. It’s not necessarily a conscious thing, but I believe that this stems from the purchase of my Omega Seamaster. While I don’t know how much the teenagers of more civilised nations have to spend, I consider the purchase of my Omega to be a lucky stroke and a blessing. Being a month away from eighteen years of age and owning an Omega is surreal to me. I would not have imagined such a thing when I started collecting in 2023. In a way, my Omega didn’t just scratch an itch, it sealed a wound. I always wanted, and still want, my grandfather’s service watch, a solid gold Omega Seamaster quartz from 1987. Maybe I can scrape together some money while studying and try to buy it off of my uncle. I doubt he will let it go, but I am content in knowing that I removed the battery and it is sealed away nicely. He doesn’t wear the watch, but that’s besides the point.
My Omega is almost the same. It’s also quartz, but from 1978, before Omega switched over to rebadging ETA quartz movements. Spares are a nightmare, so I’m protective over mine. It is gold-plated, which is one of the reasons I could afford it. The City of Johannesburg crest at six o’clock is a nice touch, but not for everyone. The quartz movement is also a turnoff for many. This added up to make a very affordable, but very nice watch. This watch belonged to D.A. Maree, who I do not know. I know someone with the same surname, but I doubt there’s any relation.
I don’t care that there’s another man’s name on the caseback. Sometimes, if I think hard enough, “J.H. Roodt” is engraved on the back. That was my grandfather’s name. He passed away in 2014 due to a multitude of lung complications stemming from smoking and silicosis. I was eight years old then. A child doesn’t know how to process grief at that age. His loss wasn’t fully comprehended by me until mid-2023, when I was reminded of him upon seeing a book about rugby on the bookshelf of a bungalow I was staying in. He was a huge rugby fan, and one of the reasons I support the team I do, despite barely ever watching games. I have his tweed blazer, which I wear when the parents don’t give me crap for dressing up too much. I don’t know when a tweed blazer suddenly became inappropriate for an evening at a restaurant, but I digress.
My Omega is a symbol of success to me. Not success as in working a job or being a superhero or Johnny Bravo, but success as in just being some guy and achieving a goal. My collection is as complete as it can get until I have a job and disposable income. I have something as close as I can get to my grandfather’s watch given my budget and circumstances. Being a young man at my age and wearing that Omega I see as a metaphor for my life. I matured quickly, not necessarily out of hardship, but through some other unseen force. I was about to include some potential reasons for this, but I eventually decided to keep it to myself. I don’t need people on the internet knowing about my failed relationships and disowned family members. My personal struggles are remaining just that: personal.
That Omega is a reminder of both the joy and cruelty of the world. My great grandmother had to finance a Timex for my grandmother. I now own an Omega (albeit used.) Times have changed; life is a lot easier in most regards today. That privilege is a joy. Seeing my watch and being reminded of the grandfather I barely got the chance to know strikes a chord within me. It’s a blend of melancholy and happiness. I never got to hear all of his stories, but I did get to know him, even if just a little bit. Accepting the two-faced nature of life is just part of living. What is given may be taken away at any moment.
In essence, that long tangent means that my collection is as complete as it needs to be for a few years. I will continue to buy more watches, obviously, but their sentimental value will diminish. Most watches from now on will just be trinkets, not “symbols” or tokens of anything deeper.
I also have all bases that I want covered. Like I said before, I don’t get wet, so my collection is mostly dress- and everyday watches, which is what I like and what I want. I have enough variety to be very content.
The high of buying watches is special. To me, it’s different from buying other rubbish, because it can be worn and is such a personal item. As pretentious as it sounds, these things sit atop veins and arteries going straight to our hearts. We sweat on them and they are spectators to everything from our hugs to our toilet social media scrolling sessions. I have chased that high for long and have been satisfied. I have a few alarm clocks, which tickle me in the same way, while adding variety and charm to my room. My mantel clock endeavour ultimately flopped, as the movement doesn’t like working, which is quite a problem, seeing as I bought it to, you know, tell the time.
This leads me to stopwatches. They’re a lot cheaper than watches and provide a similar high. I bought a Heuer, which I ultimately returned due to it sort of kind of not really working. Recently, I bought a funky Junghans, which I look forward to using. In the days since it’s purchase, it has become a sort of “every day carry” item. Maybe it’s just the novelty. A reliable and accurate timer actually has a lot of applications. I use it primarily to time myself doing various assignments and tasks at school, which helps with time management, I guess. I have yet to try it on boiled eggs or pasta.
The Junghans has come to mean a lot to me quite quickly. I have a friend who is very similar to me in that she also has “issues” and isn’t necessary a happy conformist like everyone else. We support each other through dark moments, lending a hand or a shoulder when family life, school, work or anything else gets a little overwhelming. She took an interest in my stopwatch. I don’t blame her, as my actual primary use for the stopwatch is fidgeting. The pressing of the crown and the sound is just bliss for the senses. It’s a distraction, just like watch collecting. Hopefully I’ll have enough money at the end of the year to buy her a similar stopwatch.
In a year and a half I have bought around twelve watches, four clocks and one stopwatch. I have made many bonds and discovered a lot about myself and the world.
Am I ever going to stop? I’m afraid I won’t be able to; any hope of stopping died when I bought my Oris last year. That was the watch that made me feel less guilty about buying watches admittedly too often, for better or worse. I am beyond help, so management is my only hope. I can quell the urge by looking at other mechanical timekeeping devices. Kitchen timers and wall clocks are next.
The Escapement Room 