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I’m a pandemic-era watch enthusiast. Stuck inside along with the rest of the world, I found myself with an unusual amount of time on my hands in the spring of 2020. My interest in watches had been passing at best, reflected in my recent purchase of a quartz Citizen dress watch that, looking back, was likely the most generic version of a bland 3 handed watch available on the entire internet. It was this office-inspired watch (which I was not even allowed to wear to the now-shuttered office) that probably led YouTube’s algorithm to throw a watch review into the mix as it attempted to entertain me for hours on end. Imagine my surprise when my former coworker and Worn and Wound’s own Zach Kazan was on my screen, talking about the water resistance and case diameter of a Seiko. And just like that, I stumbled into an engaged group of local collectors that were more than happy to get a newbie like me up to speed. Sure, it felt like the world was on fire, but at least I had a new hobby and community to distract me as it burned.
Stories similar to mine were playing out all over the world as a new wave of enthusiasts used an influx of time (and sometimes money) to give themselves self-curated crash courses in horology. For those of this cohort that still spend their free time reading watch blogs, it’s been a wild ride. We witnessed (and perhaps fueled) the rise of hype culture, the skyrocketing of prices, the divisive power of a plastic Speedmaster and the advent of not one but two affordable automatic GMT movements. Though we may have simply wanted a distraction and a nice watch to wear to the office when it finally opened again, a rapidly evolving and occasionally volatile environment conditioned us to become horological adrenaline junkies. We ate up the fluctuating prices, the controversial watches and the constant flood of releases that may have been in short supply physically, but provided neverending content.
The Five-Year Slump
For some of my fellow covid cohort, the thirst for this never ending content ceased when the world stopped burning. I’m sure we all remember those once active group chat members that arrived with a fury of excitement only to vanish with the same abruptness when the need for a distraction ended. To be fair, fading interest wasn’t limited to watches. A return to normalcy coincided with sourdough starters being abandoned in back corners of refrigerators worldwide and half assembled puzzles remaining forever incomplete. Which, of course, is fine. Hobbies don’t need to last a lifetime even under normal circumstances, and most don’t.
I don’t want to gate keep enthusiasm and suggest that anyone who stuck around for a year or two wasn’t a real enthusiast, but I’ll admit I felt a sense of security with my watch enthusiasm after noticing it continued to evolve even after those giant “stand 6 feet apart” stickers were peeled off of grocery store floors. Most notably, this evolution included challenging the temporary semblance of hive mind thinking that had developed as a wave of collectors learned at the same pace and consumed information from the same sources. Like other collectors that now had a few years of experience, I began to form individual (though not always popular) convictions. This wide-spread adoption of informed and personalized conclusions has been a blast to participate in, which is perhaps no better demonstrated than the community’s split reaction to the recent Moser x Studio Underd0g collaboration. Like many of you, I let out an audible “huh?” as I scratched my head and pondered exactly who the unexpected partnership was aimed at. Zach’s more positive reaction to the high-dollar collaboration challenged me to consider a different perspective, with the charged comment section demonstrating an even wider spectrum of takes. Frankly, I was thrilled to see the debate. Anyone that has gone through the process of evolving from impressionable newbie to opinionated collector understands that forming an opinion on a collaboration isn’t an overnight task, but rather the result of years of enthusiasm and the sign of a passionate and informed community. Meet me in the comment section to tell me why I’m wrong.
Let’s face it, as strong as our varying opinions are, most of us won’t own most of the watches we genuinely care about. But who cares? Taking stances and talking shop is part of the fun, and the more you know the easier it is to jump in on the conversation. And so, I never gave up that covid-era habit of scrolling endlessly to keep up on the latest releases- a routine that didn’t seem problematic until the Swiss industry teamed up in the summer of 2024 to give me a case of PTO envy. Rather than using the annual pause to catch up on the microbrand space as I have in previous years, I used it as an excuse to unplug. What’s the harm in taking a break while things are slow?, I thought. The truth was, I needed a break. Attempting to stay informed at unsustainable levels had become more of a chore than an enjoyable pastime, making this self-proclaimed enthusiast feel like Bill Murrary in Groundhog Day– burnt out, jaded and stuck in a never ending cycle of reading spec after spec of 200 meter watches with sapphire crystals and workhorse movements. Without any particular plan, the summer became the first domino of a horological hiatus. Without motivation to follow releases, I wasn’t heading to the group chat to discuss them. Without the group chat, I wasn’t taking crappy wrist shots to trade with friends. And, without crappy wrist shots, no accidentally good (or at least better) wrist shots made the cut to be shared on Instagram.
Before I knew it, I had gone horologically MIA. But it wasn’t all bad, or in fact bad at all. My phone started giving me updates that my screen time was down 48% from the previous week. Instead of lusting sessions on Jomashop, I was going for surprisingly challenging five mile runs that my Garmin swore were only two miles. The watch world carried on without me as I restored some (apparently) much needed balance to my extra curricular habits. After a few weeks and fewer of those five mile runs than I probably need, my watch enthusiasm eventually returned, but in a more balanced and focused variety than the one that had consumed me five years prior.
Selective Enthusiasm
I’m not suggesting the watch hobby has a shelf-life of five years, or announcing that you will no longer be seeing my rambling opinions. Afterall, I’m here now. I’m also not advocating for a permanent hiatus from a hobby that offers an unrivaled and completely unique combination of engineering, history, fashion, design, current events and community. Romantic as I may be feeling after absence restored the fondness in my heart, I am recommending listening to that little voice in your head that suggests unplugging if a hobby designed to bring joy ever feels like a chore. I promise we will still be here when you come back. And, who knows, you might discover clarity your enthusiasm previously lacked.
So what’s next? I’m still digesting what that refined clarity looks like for me, but I suspect it lies somewhere in the realm of selective enthusiasm. In retrospect, not all content needs to be consumed, and maintaining a passing knowledge of every release isn’t sustainable or even remotely necessary. Watch enthusiasm is personal and ultimately revolves around discovering exactly what excites us. My excitement seems to have grown pickier over the years, which I suppose is a natural progression for any maturing interest, but a tricky one to navigate in a hobby when “knowing more” usually equates to expensive taste. With a bank account that has matured at a slower pace than my sense of excitement and a boredom toward the bang for buck watches I used to drool over, I’m not sure where that leaves me. Knowing watches, the answer probably lies somewhere in a rabbit hole that I haven’t explored yet. I’ll get to it, just maybe not right now.
