We’ve All Been There

There they are. The delivery guy with that box you’ve been waiting for. Pangs of excitement run down your spine, a touch of fear grips you, but you’re ready. The doorbell rings, you collect yourself, act unexcited when you sign the slip – you are an adult after all – close the door and turn your gaze to the likely underwhelming cube of brown kraft paper now sitting on your table. You’ve been waiting for this moment for days, weeks, or perhaps even months, and now it’s here. You cautiously cut open the box, remove the box within and repeat until you get to your prize. Like a pearl in an oyster, there it is – your treasure, your precious, your – disappointment.

finally, it has arrived

As you put the watch on you realize it doesn’t live up to your expectations. This isn’t the fault of the brand, the watch is as promised. It’s quite nice, actually. It’s shiny, has some style to it, but something just isn’t clicking. Is it the color of the lume? That one unneeded word on the dial? The proportion of the lugs to the case? Just how it looks on your wrist?


Maybe it just needs a different strap, you think. You run to your strap box. You’re prepared for such an occasion, you think. But, no. Nothing is quite right either. You stop and think, this is silly, you’re overreacting, it’s a great watch, just give it time – you’ll get used to it. Hell, how can something you’ve been looking forward to for so long let you down? You just need to see it in natural light. You know the lighting in your apartment isn’t great. You need to wear it around a bit, let it break-in. Let it become part of your daily routine.

It must be me

Hours turn to days, days to weeks, weeks to months – the watch just isn’t clicking. You love it – or at least the concept of it – but it’s just not what you want it to be. Like a subtle seasoning that leaves a bad aftertaste, somewhere in this complex system of shapes, colors and textures is a piece that offends some deep-rooted sensibility. Is it time to accept that this watch, this piece of anticipation incarnate, just isn’t for you?

Yes, it is.

You begrudgingly place it back in its packaging, note that despite some wear, it’s still in great condition. Cleverly, you kept everything that was on the watch originally, even the little hangtag on the strap. There. It’s like new. The packaging is closed, surrounded in bubble wrap and placed back in a box, ready for transport. You post it to some forums, tell some friends and it takes a little longer than you’d like, but you find a buyer. You lose a little money, but accept that it was worth it for the experience. You place a label on the box, bring it to your local shipping station, and say goodbye.

don’t worry, it will be alright

As you leave you can’t help but feel like you’ll miss that watch, just a little bit. Like a dog you befriended on a beach that eventually ran off to its owner, it left some impression on you. You head home. On your wrist is a watch you’ve had for years. Your go-to when all else fails. Like an old friend, it’s pleased to see you as well. You think, perhaps, you don’t need a new watch after all – not knowing what press releases wait just a sunrise away.

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Zach is the Co-Founder and Executive Editor of Worn & Wound. Before diving headfirst into the world of watches, he spent his days as a product and graphic designer. Zach views watches as the perfect synergy of 2D and 3D design: the place where form, function, fashion and mechanical wonderment come together.
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