The Watches Haven't Changed, But I Have

I fell in love with watches when I was six years old. I remember seeing my father standing outside amongst his colleagues. They all wore some variation of the same boring uniform: oxford button down shirt, khakis, brown loafers, and a gold watch of some description. It was all rather unremarkable.

Then one of his contemporaries showed up wearing a dive watch with a yellow dial on a yellow rubber strap. That watch spoke to me. It was different. Long before I understood that watches could do more than tell time, I understood that watches could be a form of self-expression.

From that moment on, I was hooked.

Every once in a while, scrolling Instagram leads to an interesting thought, even though I try to do less and less scrolling. GQ recently posted an excerpt from an interview with actor Daniel Dae Kim about watch collecting that caught my attention.

The quote wasn’t necessarily profound or a particularly unique perspective on collecting. What struck me was that I could see almost every stage of my collecting journey and subsequent journey into the watch industry reflected back at me. Not just as a collector or writer or filmmaker, but as someone who took a passion for watches and built a career around that passion.

From my “yellow dive watch moment” forward, I dragged my parents into every store that had watches in the window. It didn’t matter if it was a Timex display in the local hardware store, trekking watches at REI, or a high-end watch shop. I wasn’t shopping, I just wanted to appreciate these mechanical marvels that fascinated me.

After university, working alongside another watch enthusiast the bug truly bit. As work wound down each afternoon we’d read Hodinkee and Uncrate together, discussing new releases, arguing over design, and talking about what we thought was cool.

I will never forget opening Uncrate one day as the hours grew late at my desk to see the MB&F x Felix Baumgartner collaboration C3H5N3O9 “Nitroglycerin Watch.” That watch blew my mind. My concept of watches changed in an instant.

Who would make such a watch? Who would buy and wear such a watch? What kind of madness was I looking at? I realized there was a world of watches that I knew nothing about - I didn’t know the makers, the collectors, and the world in which these watches lived. But I wanted to.

At the same time, a bygone era of watches captivated my imagination. Vintage watches with their lived-in patina, a reminder that the watch had a life before you. Vintage Rolex and Omega references spoke to me. Their lived- in aesthetic gave the watches soul. I loved that feeling and the feeling that your watch could tell a story about you when you entered a room before even saying a word.

I began buying pre-owned watches, and then trading them out for something new after I lost interest in the watch of the moment. Every watch taught me a lesson, they were part of my tuition in acquiring knowledge and developing my own taste.

As I experimented with more and different watches, those relationships with dealers turned into event invites. I met other collectors who seemed to have everything, who had a collecting ethos, who seemed to have a plan, compared to my hodgepodge way of buying/selling/trading.

Something shifted within me as I attended these events. I wanted to be like the “serious” collectors I was spending time with. I wanted a collection, a group of watches that made sense for me, with an ethos and a story behind every watch. I wanted to be like those seasoned collectors, to get a call from my AD offering me something new, or being in on a watch at launch.

Independent watchmaking lured me in. I wanted to be relevant to a maker. I wanted to know their name and work, and for them to know my name. I wanted proximity to the makers who created things no other brand could. That’s what I wanted: to be an insider. I wanted to support artisans and craft.

The realization hit when I started a new sales role. I wasn’t feeling fulfilled, I was making deals and closing sales, but I wanted to work on something that felt creatively fulfilling and deeply meaningful. Something that brought knowledge to others and shared my enthusiasm for watches. There was a longing to take this passion for watches and horology and the stories of brands, and turn it into a career.

I wanted to enter the industry. I wanted to be seen, no longer as a collector, but as a story teller extolling the virtues of watches, of craft, of these amazing and emotional products that defy any logic and rational need. I wanted to share this curiosity and passion with others, I wanted to help others see what I saw in the watch industry.

That love of independent watchmaking, and the makers behind the watches, made me want to evangelize the craft. To write about, photograph, and film watches. To share them and to share the message of craft with the rest of the collector community.

It began in earnest writing contributed articles. And slowly, that practice built, until I was writing before and after work, early in the morning, and late into the evening. In equal measure I told stories about brands that I loved, and brands and watches I didn’t. I wrote weekly columns, interviews with collectors, and produced the documentary Seeking Perfect: The Art of Watchmaking, taking an intimate look at the life and work of Denis Flageollet of De Bethune. I felt awestruck when we wrapped the film — we had told so much of the story, but there was still so much more to tell. So many insights hidden in the atelier, so many details, so many projects in progress in Denis’ workshop, it felt like just the beginning.

I knew there were deeper stories to be told.

Collectors and brands knew who I was from writing and films, rather than from Instagram. They knew the type of work I created and I got to work my craft alongside some of my favorite makers. My curiosity and my passion took me on an incredible journey through the watch industry - from collecting, to stories, to creating for brands. For a while, it was everything I hoped for.

Somewhere along the way I found it increasingly difficult to remain curious about watches and passionate about all sectors of the market. At Geneva Watch Days 2025 I realized I was both an industry insider, and still an outsider. I had spent years working with brands and moving closer to the industry, closer to independent watchmakers, closer to collectors, and closer to this dream of storytelling.

On day two of Geneva Watch Days I was finished early when a sudden downpour had me trapped inside the Hôtel Beau Rivage. I couldn’t wait to escape. At that moment I realized I didn’t care about any of the new releases, this was commercial, transactional. I wanted stories with meaning and staying power. But I dutifully went to brands I had meetings scheduled with for the next day and asked to meet early. I met with three more brands and decided to put on my raincoat and walk to dinner.

As I walked across the Pont du Mont-Blanc in the pouring rain, I realized proximity isn’t the same thing as wonder. I was an industry insider, but just maybe I was also still an outsider.

As I flew home from Geneva, I was thinking about the concepts of awe, wonder, and joy. Somewhere along the way these mechanical marvels began to feel ordinary. The desire to discover new makers and wanting to learn about them quieted. I began to dread product launches because I didn’t want to have to make another appointment at a watch fair to cover another novelty or release.

In reading Daniel Dae Kim’s quote, I suddenly realized I have lived every stage of collecting he is describing. Somewhere along the line my identity as a collector became inseparable from my work. I realized that the watches hadn’t changed.

But I had.

These days I’ve come full circle. I was a collector, I was known to ADs and brands, and I was an industry voice on independent watchmaking.

Now, I am back to being a collector who is buying for the story, for the love of the watch, and with a view of someone who's been at every level of the industry: neophyte, hanger on, collector, industry insider, and now I am back to simply being a collector. I couldn’t be happier.

As I read this quote and think about watches with stories, I am reminded of my undying love of the Rolex GMT-Master. At certain points I have thought about having a GMT-Master only collection — curating interesting references and watches I love. Not for anyone else appreciation, simply because it is a watch and a reference I love.

The evolution of the GMT-Master over time is evident, something like a Leica M camera or a Porsche 911. A design language that has by and large remained the same, but has subtle differences over time. There is lineage, heritage, and craft all baked in. These watches, like the 911 and the Leica M, keep telling the same story generation after generation. They are simple, dual-time tool watches that were built for a purpose and can still be used for the same purpose today, and that is design that endures.

Part of losing the awe in watchmaking came as the watches I wrote about and spoke about became more complex. I missed the simplicity of a watch that will just work, tell you the time elegantly, and be present on your wrist, a constant companion through life. I realized I wasn’t looking to tell complex stories, rather I was searching for objects that would become companions for life, and then tell stories of how collectors live with these objects in the real world.

What I’ve been trying to discover isn’t the next watch that will fetch millions of dollars at auction. I’m not chasing relevance, but I am still chasing better stories. Stories about people, collectors and craftspeople, stories about objects that carry something of the people who made them, and something of the people who wore them.

For years I’ve been chasing an ideal that I think six-year old me understood intrinsically. The joy was never belonging in or to the watch industry. It’s simply falling in love with your version of the yellow dive watch.

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Thanks as always for reading and for being part of a community that knows that there are still great stories in watchmaking beyond the hype.