Falling in love again

I still believe that my Nivada Antarctic was the watch that sealed my fate. It was the final nail in my coffin. A deal like the one I got doesn’t come around every day, maybe once every few years. Hopefully it’s not once every lifetime.

Those who have read some of my posts in late 2023 and early 2024 know just how much I loved this watch. It was something of a trophy wife in the collection. Many times I wore it with great pride thinking that I was barely even worthy to own it. Towards the middle of last year I picked up that I started wearing it less. It spent a huge portion of its time on an Expandro rally bracelet, something also quite rare and sought after to the right people. It’s a lovely combination, looking especially at home during hot summers paired with anything from a collared shirt and trousers to a golf shirt and jeans. For some reason I just barely wore it.

Perhaps it was the dial paint fading in places. Perhaps it was the noisy rotor. I think I had worried myself into a hole. My Antarctic is the first and only watch I have owned that people have tried to buy off of me. On two separate occasions, people have messaged me out of the blue asking me to name my price. I didn’t budge. I’m glad I didn’t. The money I was offered (around the 750 USD range) is a big chunk for something I admittedly spent the equivalent of 5 USD on. I reckon I was a subconscious victim to the mentality that afflicts many luxury watch owners: I was worried about resale value.

In a vintage watch, the dial largely determines the price, because it is the most expensive part to repair or replace. My Antarctic’s dial is not perfect. There are scratches and the lacquer around the indices has deteriorated in places.

Recently, I’ve embraced it. I could get navel-gazey and say that the fading paint around each index is like a beauty spot on a pretty face and that the scratch on the dial is like a scar from an abusive relationship. I won’t go that far. I don’t describe the dent on my car’s front left wheelarch as cellulite on the thighs of a model. That stuff is damage.

But damage is okay.

What can I do about it? Have the dial restored at great expense with the risk that it could be botched? I’ll pass on that. I’m sure that’ll hurt resale value even more than the damaged dial, not that I care about that metric anymore. My Antarctic is original and wears the marks from its past lives. I have finally come to terms with that.

I’d rather have an original Antarctic than an original Antarctic caked with makeup and paint to hide its imperfections. Why worry about resale value when I’ve said my vows and committed to “till death do us part?”

Was I a bit navel-gazey there? Ag, to hell with it all…