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In today’s “My Year in Watches” editorial, contributor Nathan Schultz reflects on how his perspective as a collector changed (for the better) in 2024.
It’s been two years since I pitched my first article to Worn & Wound. The concept for Why Every Parent Needs A Tool Watch was simple: to share a light hearted take on how robust purpose built watches can be incorporated into everyday life. The article is ripe with evidence of the admiration I once felt for tool watches. Reading it again with fresh eyes, I was in awe of their ability to operate at depths that would quickly kill any person wearing them, and smitten with their noisy rotating bezels that served as both useful gadgets and fidget spinners that inspired me to look for every opportunity to incorporate their intriguing ruggedness into my life.
To my surprise, my rambling pitch was accepted, and I was asked to submit a brief bio to accompany the article. I excitedly hammered out three short sentences that summed up my current mentality as an experienced writer and gear enthusiast that was taking a stab at shoehorning watches into those existing interests. Here is what I landed on: Nathan Schultz is a New Hampshire based writer, equally obsessed with watches and outdoor gear. He specializes in dad jokes, breaking NH35s while modifying watches, and testing the limits of recreational equipment. Micro brands hold a special place in his heart, and he aspires to stop buying and selling so many darn watches.
At the time it was an appropriate description. Three years into my journey with watches, I thought budget dive watches were peak horology and was still filled with wonder by their ability to offer overkill specs in 40mm packages. Almost immediately after discovering watches, I realized that there was a gap between my passion and knowledge. Sure, I loved watches, but my Google search history probably still had questions saved like “Can a watch battery be changed?” and “Is 45mm a small watch?”. On a quest for equilibrium between my passion and understanding, I took up watch modding. I hoped that taking a peak behind the curtain would allow me to better understand what put the tool in tool watch. I wanted to know the secret behind a watch’s ability to resist water, to understand what made that satisfying ratcheting noise of a rotating bezel, and to discover how those robust sapphire crystals I’d grown so fond of stayed in place. And, just as I’d hoped, modding taught me all of those things. I learned how to apply silicone grease to gaskets and how to trim a winding stem just right so that a crown could screw down properly. I disassembled bezels, broke click springs in the process, and realized that mysterious yet satisfying noise could be fixed with a $10 part readily available on Amazon. I even swapped out crystals, which are apparently secured with nothing more than good old fashioned friction.
One unexpected benefit to tinkering on watches during your lunch break is that other people will want them. Thanks to an active community on Reddit’s WatchExchange, I started trading my home builds for microbrands in need of a new home. As someone without disposable income to devote to collecting, it felt like the ultimate hack. Through an ever rotating collection of pre-loved watches, I discovered that every new watch that took up temporary residency in my watchbox taught me something new- how BGW9 looks crisper on a dial than C3, how lug to lug determines wearability just as much as diameter, and how unpleasantly loud the rotor on an 8000 series Miyota is. Under the guise of education (but also loving the endorphin rush of having a steady flow of new watches) I became a serial flipper- not the kind that hoarded limited editions to sell for 5x on eBay, but the kind that just couldn’t manage to keep a watch for more than a few weeks.
But lately I’ve been looking at my bio and thinking that it doesn’t remotely describe me anymore. With my initial wonder having been replaced with appreciation, I haven’t opened a caseback in months. (Which reminds me that I promised my uncle I would fix his broken watch that has been sitting in my drawer since the summer. It’s coming, Uncle Steve). In the same way, the constant cycle of taking pictures with time stamps and standing in line at the post office became more of a hassle than it was worth, so I stopped that too. Reflecting on my year in watches, it was largely spent moving away from those early habits that had served their purpose.
At the beginning of the year the Worn & Wound team shared our New Year’s Resolutions for 2024. Tired of my habits but so far unable to break them, I used it as an opportunity to declare a one year purchasing hiatus, hoping the pressure to avoid publicly failing would help me meet the lofty goal (it didn’t). Learning from past mistakes of making public predictions, I’ve kept my personal collecting journey mostly to myself this year. Closing out 2024, my collection has been consolidated down to two watches and I’m not lusting after anything despite not making any new purchases in the past six months. For the first time in my five-year journey with watches, I’m simply content.
Tinkering and owning too many darn watches helped build a foundation I’m thankful to have, but I’m happy my enthusiasm has evolved from frantic to fulfilled. I don’t know if being content is the end game, or if I’m just biding my time until an unexplored rabbit hole consumes me with the same fever modding and rampant collecting once did. I suspect my upcoming year in watches will eventually reveal the answer to that. Until then, I’m entering 2025 with a sense of calm my previous enthusiasm lacked, and am (gladly) resolution free.
