Keeping Watch

BEFORE THE MOST recent watch I acquired, I hadn’t bought one in nearly two decades. I must have been about 16 when I picked out my old 1960s military-style automatic from a second-hand dealer.

All the other watches in my possession are handme-downs. The only watch I wear when I travel was once mum’s; the one I wore all through uni, I stole from her drawer. I never wear but love her dainty Spaulding & Co., whose provenance I need help unravelling. My little gold Seiko? That came from mama (dad’s mum) when one day she decided to split her valuables among us grandkids. Tucked into its box was a handwritten note: “This is the watch your grandfather gave me...hope you will appreciate.” In case the teenage me still didn’t grasp its significance, she also underlined the words: “This is an antique.”

I’m lucky to have had a few of these “Generations” moments. ( You know exactly which successful ad campaign I refer to.) Watches do far more than tell the time. They tell stories and hold memories. They o¥er insights into civilisation and mankind’s ingenuity — grandiose as it may sound.

Within these pages you’ll find our 19-page report of this year’s Salon International de la Haute Horlogerie Genève. Most pieces are mechanical feats. A couple are even accessible. All flaunt prodigious artistry. I’d be proud to own any of the pieces. Prouder, if they were to circuitously come into my possession. (No, I’m not hinting for one.) “Circuitous” because besides craftsmanship and engineering, I prefer my watches imbued with stories.

I’d be curious to know which timepiece calls out to you. Which one you end up buying, gifting or receiving, and why. I bet the tale will be interesting.

There’s no time like now to turn to page 129.