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My year in watches began in a fog of Covid that led to the purchase of a James Lamb Origin Series, an acquisition that set the tone for the rest of the year in both how my own watch collection would continue to take shape, and in how I approached my role at Worn & Wound. The theme of this year, for me, has really been brewing for the last several, but 2024 was when I really began to hone in on the importance of independent watch brands across the entire spectrum of the watch landscape, and independence in our hobby and in watch media.
When I purchased the James Lamb, I made no official declarations or formal decisions about shutting out big brand purchases for the remainder of the year, but in my head the idea had been taking shape for some time. Conversations with colleagues and other watch enthusiasts had led me to the conclusion that while big luxury brands are certainly capable of making very high quality watches that are desirable and objectively “good,” they had come to feel a bit stale, almost sterile, in comparison to watches like the James Lamb, which seemed born out of a burst of creativity. It was also impossible not to notice the traditional microbrand scene growing by leaps and bounds, with many brands offering bits of real craft and flourishes of genuine watchmaking inspiration at a truly approachable price point. Why, I wondered, would anyone pay even more than I paid for my Origin Series for a watch made from the Swiss equivalent of a cookie cutter?
I couldn’t come up with a reason, and this year I saw watches enter my collection and pass across my desk for review and evaluation that seem to prove over and over again that indies, to put it simply, are where the action is at the moment. And I’ll probably always remember 2024 as the year that a new collecting philosophy of sorts began to take shape. For the last several years I’ve been fond of saying that my collecting goals revolve around the idea of “fewer, better” watches, but this was the first time that I really put some action behind those words.
I sold off a lot of watches this year. Not quite a collection purge, but I decided to let go of things that were effectively impulse buys once upon a time, or watches that were just no longer to my taste. Yes, there were some watches from big luxury group brands that were part of the sell-off, but there were also some watches that I liked for a fleeting moment, and was simply too weak to resist in what I thought was the brief window I’d have to make a purchasing decision. If there was a purge this year, it was of watches that reminded me that I wasn’t immune to the hype cycle and Instagram drops.
This de-cluttering of my collection happened without an eye toward anything specific to replace the recently vacated pieces, and allowed me to spend more time wearing the watches I decided to hang on to, the ones I knew were not expendable. When I began adding pieces back in, like the Fears Brunswick “Aurora” or the Paulin Modul or the Christopher Ward Bel Canto, they were not just oddball versions of watches I loved, but they were from brands founded, run, or staffed with people that I’ve come to know and like from being part of this community. It may sound corny, but the pride of ownership, for me, with a watch like the Bel Canto is made that much more satisfying because of the great experiences we’ve had with the Christopher Ward team at all the Windup events through the years.
I think it’s worth pointing out here that while I’m of course extremely fortunate to work in the watch industry and form relationships with many of the great people behind these brands, my experience is not unique. At every Windup, I see regular old civilian watch enthusiasts who do not work in the industry interact with brand owners as if they are old friends, because in many cases that’s exactly what they are. And that’s one of the many things that makes our community, and independent watch brands in particular, special. Do you think management at Omega will remember you for being first in line for the Speedmaster Pilot? I tend to think they will not.
I guess this was also the year, then, that the line I’ve repeated so often about not having a real emotional connection to the watches I own can be thrown out the window. Because when I look at my watchbox at the end of 2024, I see watches that have been made, sold, designed, or some combination of each, by people who have become friends. That’s meaningful to me in a way that “getting the call” from an AD never has been or ever could be. Those watches not only reflect my own taste and personality in a hyper specific way (which I think is a fundamental reason why we collect in the first place) but they represent a small way that I can support the continued growth of the hobby, and the small independent space in particular. Is it old-fashioned patronage in the way Griffin described earlier this year? I’m not sure I’d go that far or put myself in that category. I’d simply say it feels good to own a watch that you know the story of because you know the people behind it.
It’s impossible for me to think about my year in watches without getting a little reflective about my first full year as Managing Editor at Worn & Wound. It’s been an exciting year, and I’m incredibly proud of all the great stuff we’ve made. It’s especially rewarding, though, to work with so many talented and enthusiastic writers. Our freelance crew represents, in my opinion, the deepest bench in watch media. It’s made up of seasoned professional journalists who have been covering this space for years, new collectors adept at documenting their journeys as they discover all this hobby has to offer in real time, and everything in between. Most of all, though, I’m impressed with their curiosity and authentic interest in watches, one that I see reflected in our readers, listeners, and viewers.
