This is the story of a cheap Timex manual wind, whose history I should know in great detail, but that has a number of gaps. I should know all the details because I bought it myself, probably in late 1981. All of this falls into the probably zone though, because it was returned to me in 2021 as something else entirely.

The story picks up when my parents were downsizing before moving into a senior citizens complex in Springfield, Virginia.

This particular bequest was one of three watches, all non-functional: a pocket watch with a chain and pocket knife and a 1950s-ish Longines Jamboree owned by my paternal grandfather (died 1967), and the Timex, nominally owned by my maternal grandfather (died 1969). I took the two wristwatches to GCA La Precision Watch & Clock Shop in Vienna, Virginia who were able to repair them both (shout out to them by the way—they are not fast, but they did a good job on both of the watches).

That done, I took them home and did a bit of research to see if I could learn a bit more about their history. The Jamboree was made for many years, so I really couldn’t narrow it down much, but the Timex had a number on the face, which I punched into Google and then learned that the watch was from…1980.

Well, unless my grandfather had bought the watch 11 years after his death, it could not have possibly been his. And with the sentimental haze removed, I started thinking more clearly.

Specifically, about a watch I had bought 35 years earlier. In 1981, I went canoeing in Maine for two weeks, during which we ran some rapids where the canoe swamped, destroying the watch I had been wearing. I needed a replacement, and being 16 years old and not exactly swimming in cash, I used my employee discount at the local Drug Fair (where I was a combination stock boy, cashier, and guy with a mop) to get something I could afford, namely the Timex, and a metal (but not twist-o-flex) band from Speidel.

That Timex went with me everywhere for many years after. I took it to college. In 1984 it went with me to sea on USS Peterson (DD-969) and while on that ship to Israel, the coast of Lebanon, France, and Italy. I measured time in a variety of labs. I wore it to graduate school in California and on vacation in a variety of places across the US.

How it wound up with my parents I don’t know. My best guess is that it got left behind during a trip home sometime after 1990. At that point, I was also wearing a Seiko Lasalle that my in-laws had bought me as an engagement present, and if I had left the watch at my parents’ home, I would have figured I’d pick it up next time I was there.

Even shipping it would likely cost more than replacing it with another Timex.

Either way, it kinda disappeared, my wife and I were focused on finishing our PhDs, we both had to find post-degree positions, did a big move, etc. During this period, I think my brother started wearing it, and that is likely when the winding knob disappeared.

Now that I have it back, it has become part of my regular watch rotation. I like the mechanical movement and the clean design. Despite the cost of fixing it, I am willing to wear it in circumstances where I would hesitate to wear a couple of other watches I own—I know that it will, as the ads used to say, take a licking and keep on ticking.

Hopefully, one of my kids or their (to be) spouses will want it when I start the equivalent downsizing. As to my confusion, well, my maternal grandfather did have a Timex - just apparently not this one, and no one is really sure what happened to the other one.

—Casual Time #15 by George Komatsoulis

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Specifications (approximate)
Case Diameter: 34 mm
Case Thickness: 10 mm
Lug-to-Lug: 39 mm
Case Material: Steel
Weight (with band): 67g
Crystal: Yes
Dial: Sunburst, Timex number 27710
Movement: Timex Manual Wind M105 with date
Chronograph: No
Strap: Metal, 18 mm, should be 19 mm
Water Resistance: “Water resistant
Not even vaguely limited edition

If you’re interested in finding this reference, a few are for sale on the internet.

In Spring of 2024, my mom was dying. She’d long been dying of Parkinson’s, a cruel disease that quickly took from her the ability to communicate, something the retired journalist and grade school librarian excelled at.

We’d just been been up in Cleveland for the solar eclipse, and I was sporting my King Samurai I found at a Cincinnati suburban Macy’s, but my mom was at a Cleveland Clinic hospital with pneumonia. We’d planned to be up for the eclipse and to enjoy it all together. My mom watched it from a hospital room as best she could.

Leaving that hospital, I knew my mom was going to be dying soon. I reasonably figured that it would, probably, be the last time I saw her.

Back in Virginia, I went to my favorite local watch dealer: Fashion Time at the Potomac Mills mall, a simple horological paradise run by a father/son. If you live anywhere near Washington, or are passing through, worth a visit. It’s like how mall watch shops used to be, before they were sort of squeezed out of existence. Now, it’s sort of a Dakota Watch Company vs. Watches of Switzerland divide, with a sort discount jeweler (think Kay’s Outlet) chain dominance. Shops like these are increasingly rare.

I had a modest watch budget that I had planned for and Fashion Time, which liked to get collectible limited editions of various watches, had the new limited edition Bulova Lunar Pilot with the meteorite dial.

With apologies to my friends and colleagues who love the Omega Speedmaster, I do not. I am not a hater, but rather, I am a Seamaster sucker. Always have been.

So, when I read about the horological accident of the popped off crystal on Apollo 15 and the back-up watch that Dave Scott used? I was interested in the basic remake, which is an underrated watch for the price (under $500.)

While the experimental model that lost out in the battle of being NASA’s official space watch to the Omega Speedmaster had a different movement, the new Lunar Pilots have the highly accurate NP20 quartz movement, which is accurate to like 10 seconds a year, thanks to its 262 kHz frequency.

That, plus its provenance, and its price point (compared to a Speedmaster)? I was on the hunt.

One thing I do not like about the remake is the flowery font in the signature of Archive Series.

I was hesitant to make the purchase but wanted to see one in the flesh. Could I live with that weird signature? That B? That A? They have subsequently fixed the font issue, going with a more militaristic look in subsequent reissues, which they also did with the meteorite model, in case you were wondering.

I didn’t have to make that decision because Fashion Time had #1,448 of 5,000 for sale. I held it and thought, well, this might be the watch I want to buy if I want something specially for the occasion of my mother’s impending death. It, like my mom, is one of a kind.

Yes, it is one of 5,000, but the meteorite dial is what makes it one of a kind. As Teddy Baldassarre explains:

Its dial is forged from a piece of Muonionalusta Meteorite, the oldest known space rock known to science, estimated to be 4.56353 billion years old. After falling to Earth in a meteor shower, the meteorite experienced intense heating through gravitational compression, followed by millions of years of slow cooling, resulting in the lattice-like crystalline patterns on their surface known to science as “Widmanstatten,” named for the Viennese Count who first observed them in 1808. These natural textures cannot be replicated in a laboratory and are unique to each meteorite; in layman’s terms for potential purchasers of this watch, it means that no two dials are exactly alike.

And, she would appreciate this, they price matched Kay Outlet. (My mom was a big bargain obsessive.)

For the extra money, you get a titanium case, with this nice lunar touch, over the usual stainless steel. Sapphire is standard on the Lunar Pilots.

They were advertising this watch on TV for months. I saw ads on MSNBC for it. Based on the price and the number of watches, we’re talking $7.5 million in overall revenue here.

Perhaps the ads were to reintroduce the Lunar Pilot line of watches and Bulova’s name. The success of this release likely prompted Bulova to expand the line.

That’s my theory, at least, as the newly released Timascus just dropped. Why else would you spend money on such a limited release, and for watches that retail for so little? (At least in comparison to a wide release, or a higher-priced watch.)

When you get the limited edition, you get a nice wooden box, along with a replica travel clock.

It’s a nice little gift, but not worth the $125 some think it is.

There is also a wall clock version of it, now, which you may have spotted on the wall behind Marc at Long Island Watch. I have one, too.

My mom was released from the hospital to hospice care, and as I knew I’d be heading back to Cleveland to bury her soon. I wanted this to be an intentional purchase, a watch I would, in a way, remember her by.

I had it when I got the call: time to come back to Cleveland. I raced over to pick up my sister in nearby Burke from Woodbridge, where I lived at the time, and brought this new watch on the mission for which it was intended.

Whenever I put it on, and I try to reserve it for special occasions, I think of that week in Cleveland and the many memories I hope to treasure forever that my mom gave me.

—Casual Time #14 by Jim Swift

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The Watch: Bulova Lunar Pilot, REF: 96A312. MSRP $1,500. Prices may vary, as it is a limited edition. A growing number of references to choose from.

Quick Specs Summary

Case Diameter 43.5 mm

Case Thickness~13.2 mm

Lug-to-Lug~51 mm

Case Material Grade 5 Titanium (SuperTitanium™)

Weight~94–95 g

Crystal Sapphire with anti-reflective coating

Dial Muonionalusta meteorite

Movement Quartz NP20, 262 kHz, ±10 s/year

Chronograph Yes – 1/20 sec precision

Bezel Tachymeter ring

Strap Black leather NATO, 20 mm

Water Resistance50 m (5 ATM)

Limited Edition 5,000 pieces

I’m a firm believer in watches for special occasions, and this trip to the courthouse was, indeed, a special occasion. I ended up President of my HOA during the pandemic. I didn’t plan to take the job, it just sort of happened.

It was, as I had hoped, my last trip to court during my time on the board.

I’ll spare you the details, but the short of it is that the pandemic led to a lot of HOA-related litigation. It’s not hard to imagine why: people stayed home more. And in January of 2023, we were wrapping up a years-long conflict in court and, not wanting to get there late, arrived in Manassas, Virginia very early.

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So to kill the time, I went to nearby Walmart and found a DW5600E-1V for under $45, during the very beginning of the Walmart watch fire sales. It was also my first G-Shock, after long having been in the Casio F-91 fanbase.

Glowing profiles abound for this watch, because there is nothing really bad to be said about it: pretty much any variant you want, minus analog hands, exists. Solar, bluetooth, virtually any colorway you want.

Coincidentally, it is my birth-year watch: 1983. And, that year this model was also celebrating the big 40.

It’s the watch from Heat and many other movies. A similar model was worn by Keanu Reeves in Speed. It’s been on the space shuttle and ISS and is space approved by NASA. It is also a watch very well utilized in the GWOT. Teddy Baldassarre threw it from a helicopter many times. It routinely makes the top 10 list of many varied categories for watches. I consider it a must-own, and also like to give it as a gift. (Along with cast-iron skillets.)

Ultimately, the case was a success for the association, and whenever I have a tough physical assignment ahead, I reach for this watch.

I would also use it during meetings to time things in open forum during HOA meetings, not that this was a tough assignment, but sometimes it can be! The newer modules have muted buttons, which I prefer in the GWM5610, but this being my HOA watch and Zoom being muted, I would use it anyway.

The “Square” has always been, from afar, my favorite of the G-Shocks aesthetically, and perhaps that’s also due to my love of the humble F-91. (I now have 4 squares and eleven total, as G-Shocks are addictive.)

Of course, all good things come to an end and I retired from the HOA board, knowing that a move was likely (and my mom was not doing well). On my last day as HOA President, I put on the watch as sort of memoir to remember the experience by.

I got a call. A car had almost fallen into the drainage pond and was saved by a humble fence post. I went out to take pictures and document it for the management company, but just another day in the HOA business. I remembered that I was wearing the DW5600E-1V for a very special reason and snapped a photo.

Nearly a year later, I don’t miss the HOA life. Though, I do miss Virginia’s fall beauty, some of my neighbors, and friends.

—Casual Time #13 by Jim Swift

The Watch: DW-5600E-1V, the “quintessential” G-Shock. $74.95, but prices vary by model and module.

Resin, metal-backed case, Digital movement, Mineral glass, antireflective, Water resistance 20 bar, 48.9 × 42.8 × 13.4 mm, 53 grams.

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When I confirmed that I’d be going to Iceland, my first thought was, Will I get to meet an elf? My second thought was, Are there any watchmakers in Iceland? I knew that if the country did boast a watchmaker and the watches were within my (decidedly limited) budget, I needed to come home with a tiny, exquisite machine made in a country I felt I’d come to love.

A quick Google search indicated that there was a single watchmaking business in all of the country, JS Watch Company, a three-generation family operation with an storefront in Iceland’s largest city of Reykjavik, where my partner and I would begin our journey around the country via the famed Ring Road (Þjóðvegur 1).

I wrote an email to the business telling them the day I thought I could stop by and the model I was likely to purchase. I received in reply two messages, each from different family members, inviting me to come meet the Master Watchmaker, Gilbert, who started the operation in 2005.

I was thrilled at the opportunity, because what I like most about being out of the States is exploring nature and meeting the human and non-human inhabitants. Traveling abroad is a privilege, and I always feel like I represent my country. I endeavor to absorb something of the rhythm of life in whatever country I can manage to weasel my way into. While I am not especially knowledgeable about watches, I love to see a craftsman at work and get a view (albeit limited) of the artistry of they create. I was thrilled at this opportunity, but there was a big BUT involved.

Iceland is one of the most expensive countries I’ve ever visited, even more so, as I recall, than Japan or Switzerland. Anyone who complains about prices in “Joe Biden’s America” should spend some time in Iceland, a country where nearly everything is imported except sheep and fish. While I know some weird people (hello, dear Reader), none of them would buy a watch made of mutton or salmon. The watch I had set my heart on was the Gilbert Bóhem Silver Sunburst, a 38.5 mm automatic on a stainless steel (by my choice) bracelet. This watch would set me back nearly $3k with VAT.

While a watch costing this much may not be a big deal to men a lot taller and sporting better haircuts than me, I felt every cent of it as I imagined myself toothless and emaciated in my dotage with an Iceland watch of refined elegance hanging loosely from my wizened wrist, as I gummed a bag of dry ramen noodles. But poverty be damned, there’s always SNAP benefits and soup kitchens! I’m certain a staffer at the public assisted living facility I’ll one day wind up in will take pleasure in slipping that watch off my wrist.

I met Gilbert the Master Watchmaker at the shop and was pleasantly surprised to see that he was awaiting my arrival and had my selected piece set aside. The shop was small, with one side taken up by glass displays of their watches and some family artifacts and the other with a wall of photos of Genuine Famous People sporting their watches along with Gilbert and family.

Gilbert was a nattily dressed elf of a man who was, for a long time, the only person named Gilbert in all of Iceland. His name came from an American service member his father served with in Iceland during WW2 who was killed in the war. Gilbert was named in honor of him, and thus felt a special connection to America. He talked to us about his family history, being the first and only watchmaking business in Iceland, his absolute perfectionism, and some of his personal interests (hunting, fishing, driving fast while avoiding Icelandic speed traps). He told us that in order to achieve the flawless blueing of the hands on my watch model, he had to discard innumerable hands for being just less than perfect. This precision of craftsmanship could best be seen through his loupe. Catching the light on the magnified hands of the watch was a reminder — as if I needed one — of what I love about mechanical watches: tiny parts and pieces working in tandem and revealing new aspects of their coruscating beauty with each angle of viewing and play of the light. I was sold.

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In a world that places too much value on the vulgar, the easily-consumable and excretable, delicate creations of craftsmen are precious treasures. Iceland is a small country with a tiny human population, a shit-ton of sheep, and some of the most majestic geography I’ve ever seen. It is, in the true sense of the word, awesome. While at times snowy roads (in early-/mid-October) did their best to send us off precipices to our doom, I left Iceland with what will stand as an abiding love for the country and respect for the people I had the honor to come to know. I returned home with more than a few bits of memorabilia, but a t-shirt with an anthropomorphic hotdog and a magnet of a puffin can’t compare with the watch Gilbert and his family made with pride. When the sun of my city of Philadelphia dances across the face of my watch, the light reminds me of the brilliant Icelandic sun on the crystal snows of the north and the azure fjords of the east. I met my Icelandic elf and he bestowed upon me a treasure I’ll always love.

—Casual Time #12 by Joseph Gervasi

The watch: Gilbert Bóhem - Silver Sunburst dial. $2,363.00
Stainless steel case, Swiss movement, Automatic, self-winding, Sapphire glass, antireflective, Water resistance 5 bar, Diameter 38.5 mm, Height 10.3 mm,

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A few months ago, I found myself in Cincinnati, Ohio. We were considering leaving Washington and moving here, early in the process.

On Cincinnati’s east side, the former Beechmont Mall is now the Anderson Town Center. The newer venue kept a Macy’s, and is home to one of the world’s largest Kroger grocery stores, but it’s now one of those open concept sort of strip mall joints. Doing some errands put me there, waiting on my better half getting her nails done, so I figured I would pop into Macy’s to see what their watch selection was like.

Their watch lead was a younger gentleman, recently married, and I noticed in the 50% off case a white Seiko Prospex King Samurai. Being a Seiko fan, I didn’t yet own a Prospex, and wasn’t eager to pay retail for one.

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I pinched myself: Is this really half off? I asked. Yes, he told me, and it’s one of the prettier watches they have. He had just gotten his wedding Longines back from service due to a crown issue, and the King Samurai was one of his favorites in stock. He seemed disappointed I was taking it away from him. Perhaps he was a better salesman than I was when I worked retail.

How did it end up there? I asked. It turns out that when somebody returns a watch to Macy’s and the store doesn’t carry that model, it ends up in the discount case. The SRPE37, with its white subway tile dial, sapphire crystal and ceramic bezel, has an MSRP of $595, and here it was, within my grasp for under $300.

I was always more of a turtle fan, but the Samurai spoke to me that day, and at that price, I had to have it. It quickly became one of my favorite watches. The cyclops lens, of which I am typically not a huge fan, is amazingly well done.

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The gold-tipped second hand was, initially, not my favorite, but once I appreciated its regal status, has become one of my favorite features. The reliable 4R35 movement has proven to be very accurate and reliable. I know some people think the Prospex series deserves a pricier movement, and I sympathize with that point of view, but don’t hold it enough not to get it.

The band? Love it.

The lume? Amazing.

While it is definitely one of the more expensive watches in my collection, I have worn it like it is meant to be worn, not pampering it or reserving it for special occasions. Though, I do bring it in my watch roll for special trips, like one to The Homestead for my wife’s 40th.

So if you’re ever stuck at a mall, pop into the nearest Macy’s to check out their watches, you never know if you’ll find a great deal like this one.

I wore the watch on our trip up to Cleveland the following month for the big solar eclipse, and what turned out to be the last time I would ever see my mother alive.

I snapped a photo during that strange lighting during the eclipse, and recall looking at it as we needed to be on schedule for our hospital visits. It sounds weird, but whenever I wear it, I do think about my mom and the concept of time.

While I rarely get rid of watches, this is one I’ll never part with.

—Casual Time #11 by Jim Swift

The watch: Seiko SRPE37. (Prices will likely drop as newer variants have recently entered the market.)

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America in 2024 is an extremely divided country. All across the nation, Americans are entrenching themselves into hardened ideological camps in topics of varying subjects: Biden versus Trump; the war in Ukraine; the war in Gaza; the war between Kristi Noem and dogs; the rivalry of Angel Reese and Caitlin Clark, and so on. However bitter each of those debates are, none reach the levels of vitriol seen in the following topic: the Swatch X Omega Speedmaster MoonSwatch. 

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Ask a random watch enthusiast their opinion on the bioceramic collaboration between affordable brand/monolith Swatch and luxury brand Omega based on Omega’s iconic Speedmaster line, and you may hear responses ranging from “they’re cool,” to the “they’re the devil incarnate.”

Upon the initial release of the MoonSwatch in March 2022, while fans of the collaboration stormed shopping malls around the world to get their hands on one of the original nine MoonSwatches, just as many enthusiasts were voicing their hate for the pieces on the Internet, declaring the watches were garbage that would eventually lead to the downfall of the original and venerable Omega Speedmaster Professional. I was not one of those people.

As an owner of an Omega Speedmaster Professional, reference 145.022 [Editor’s note: Read Eddie’s wonderful item here on that reference], I can be quite protective of the lore of the Moonwatch. I’m one of those who believe the only real Moonwatches are those that are flight qualified by NASA for manned space missions, which means the Hesalite version with the steel caseback is the only one; the other Speedmasters with sapphire crystals on the front and back are simply Speedmasters, not Moonwatches.

Surely, I’d join the drunken mob of MoonSwatch detractors to demand the scalps of the Swatch executives who pushed the MoonSwatch into the marketplace, right? 

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Far from it. 238,900 miles away from it. I love the MoonSwatch. I love that Swatch Group figured out a way to break through to a new generation of watch enthusiasts who were seduced by the witchy ways of the Apple Watch.

I love that, because of the affordability of the pieces, more people will learn about the collaboration between Omega and NASA during the space race, which culminated in one of America’s greatest achievements (the Moon Landing), and one of our most inspiring stories (the Apollo 13 mission). And really, I just love how fun the collection is, producing models in vibrant colorways that one doesn’t typically see in luxury watches. When the MoonSwatches were announced, I immediately wanted one of my own. 

Due to the MoonSwatch’s availability being limited to physical Swatch stores, I couldn’t buy one immediately. At the time of the release, there were no Swatch stores in the Los Angeles area, where I live (though there is one now at the time of writing). But the delay turned out to be a blessing in disguise. When the first nine models were announced, I decided I wanted the Saturn model, since I found the rings around Saturn at six o’clock on the dial to be very charming.

As time went on, and others became available for fair prices in my watch groups, I continued to pass on the other eight models until I could find the one that I wanted. But on March 26^th, 2024, two years after the release of the original nine, Swatch released a model that immediately became my diet grail: the Mission to the MoonPhase model, featuring a moonphase indicator adorned with America’s favorite beagle, Snoopy. 

The Mission to the MoonPhase is the perfect MoonSwatch. While it utilizes the same bioceramic (it’s what Swatch calls this plastic/mineral compound) case as the original nine and shares the same case design and dimensions as the Omega Speedmaster Professional, the addition of Snoopy to the moon phase indicator elevates the watch into rarified air, recalling Omega’s exclusive Silver Snoopy Speedmaster models. 

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The relationship between the Speedmaster and Snoopy is special. During the space race in the late 1960s, NASA wanted to recognize employees and contractors who contributed to the space mission. They collaborated with Charles M. Schultz, creator of the popular Peanuts comic strip, to present a silver lapel bearing the image of Snoopy to recipients of the award. During the Apollo 13 mission, following the failure of the lunar module’s electrical system, astronauts Jim Lovell, Jack Swigert, and Fred Haise used their NASA issued Omega Speedmaster Professionals to time a critical 14 second burn to loop the lunar module around the moon and sling shot back to Earth, saving the lives of all three men. In recognition of Omega’s contribution to the success of the rescue mission, NASA awarded Omega the Silver Snoopy award.

Omega has since released three exclusive models to commemorate the achievement: 2003’s Speedmaster Snoopy; 2015’s Speedmaster Snoopy 45^th Anniversary; and 2020’s Speedmaster Silver Snoopy 50^th Anniversary. Each model features images of Snoopy on the dial, with the most recent model also featuring a moving image of Snoopy flying a rocket across a field of stars on the caseback; the movement is achieved by actuating the watch’s chronograph pushers. These models are highly coveted by Speedmaster fanatics around the world.

In addition to the awesome NASA history behind the new Mission to the MoonPhase MoonSwatch, there is another reason this is the perfect MoonSwatch for me. In my household, Snoopy is a legend. I wasn’t a huge fan of Peanuts growing up, but my wife grew up watching the televised specials every holiday. When we had children, she introduced those films to them, and they fell in love with the mischievous hound, and viewing the specials has since become a tradition in our home. We even have the soundtrack to “A Charlie Brown Christmas” by the Vince Guaraldi Trio on vinyl, and it’s an established part of our holiday music rotation. As Southern California residents, we have season passes to Knott’s Berry Farm, a theme park that features the Peanuts characters as the park’s mascots, with a children’s area called Camp Snoopy that features rides and shows based on the famous beagle and his friends. Whenever I think of Snoopy, I immediately think of my family. I had to have this watch, and I was fortunate enough to find one at the Swatch store located in the New York, New York hotel in Las Vegas.

Naysayers will point at the cheap quartz movement and plast…er bioceramic case to tarnish the MoonSwatch. Both of those points are valid. So what? The MoonSwatch isn’t intended to be anyone’s forever watch, nor is it trying to compete with the Omega Speedmaster Professional or any other $7,000 watch for that matter. It’s basically a toy. But like any great toy, it’s a hell of a lot of fun. It feels light on the wrist, and the much-ballyhooed strap acquitted itself just fine when I wore it for three weeks straight in triple digit weather. The watch has a decent amount of lume, and also features hidden images on the dial that are only visible under a UV light. Then of course, there’s our hero, Snoopy, gazing up at the stars while relaxing on a crescent moon in the three o’clock moonphase indicator, reminding us it’s always time to smile.

I love the MoonSwatch, and I especially love this Mission to the MoonPhase edition. Now, when someone says anything negative about it, I listen like Charlie Brown, hearing only the crying of a trombone: “Wah wah wah wah wah…”

—Casual Time #10 by Eddie Alexander.

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“How many wooden elephants is enough?” was not a question I ever thought I would have to consider, but from 2016-2017 when I traveled to India for work every few months it became an issue as my desk filled up with the carved pachyderms I bought as a memento from each trip.

My September 2017 trip was likely to be the last for a while (new company owners meant a new leadership team was imminent) and I wanted something unique to remember it by.

We had silk scarves, handmade quilts, hand carved wooden boxes, chess sets and, of course wooden elephants from seven previous trips piling up in our basement in Chagrin Falls, OH.  I had 15 hours on the flight from Newark to Mumbai to think of a fitting final memento and the watch ads in the in-flight magazine gave me an idea—a WATCH!

I had never heard anyone mention a “nice Indian watch”, so I had some research to do to keep me busy on the flight. 

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The list of Indian watchmakers turned out to be very short: Titan and Jaipur Watch Company, and both fit my ₹20,000 (~$250) budget for a souvenir.  Jaipur Watch Company’s lineup featured brightly painted dials and Rupee coins, so Titan seemed like the place to start.

The World of Titan boutique in Pune, India was just a few blocks from my hotel, but I asked one of my Indian colleagues to join me (a westerner walking or shopping alone in India attracts every autorickshaw driver within miles with the promise of a special tour or the place with the best prices a for just ₹50). The boutique was a cross between an Apple Store and Sunglass Hut with hundreds of watches displayed on wooden wall racks and a handful of floor cases in the middle of the store.

Initially I was disappointed, I prefer traditional-looking watches, leather bands, and the engineering precision of a mechanical movement, but I was staring at wall after wall of modern-looking bright gold watches, with heavy metal bracelets and quartz movements priced around $35 (Fortunately, they all had price tags. Many Indian shops frequented by Westerners don’t display prices so they can dynamically increase the price based on what they think a customer can afford, so westerners pay 3-5x what a local would pay.)

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There was a small display labeled “Luxury Collection” behind the checkout counter that featured a handful of watches, each in its own hard plastic display box, and one (and only one) caught my eye. Titan is a mass market company so even their Luxury Collection watches are identified by a model number, the watch that caught my eye, my first (and only) Luxury Indian Timepiece, was the Titan model HN90033SL01J:

The white dial with large, easy-to-read black Arabic numbers has the traditional look I prefer, the two black sub-dials, which show seconds and a 24-hour clock, give it a slightly modern touch. The stainless-steel case measures 42mm, which is right in that sweet spot for me of being big enough to stand out on my wrist but not so big it feels like I’m wearing a sundial. For its size, it’s on the heavy side, weighing in at 100 grams, 10 grams more than my similarly sized Omega Speedmaster.

When I took it out of the box, I was a surprised to find an exhibition back, making it easy to see the 21 Jewel Miyota automatic movement (the model number of the movement isn’t visible through the exhibition back but, based on subsequent research, it looks to be the Miyota Cal. 8219).

I didn’t think I’d make it back to the Titan boutique, so I told young man behind the counter I’d take it and he wrang up my ₹17,050 (just under $205) purchase.

I’ve had the Titan HN90033SL01J for almost 7 years and while I don’t wear it all that often, it is, by far, my most used memento from those trips to India.  Every time I put it on, I’m impressed it’s a $200 watch.

It also has some flaws that remind me it’s just a $200 watch.

The lack of luminous dial markers and hands makes it impossible to read at night. The date is unreadable except in the brightest, direct light.  The Butterfly Deployment Clasp seemed like a nice touch at first, but quickly felt like an unnecessary complication for an inexpensive leather strap.

In April of this year, I was back in India for the first time since 2017. I wore my Titan HN90033SL01J, and it was also the first trip halfway around the world that I didn’t feel the need to buy something to commemorate the trip. 

I definitely don’t need another $200 Indian Luxury watch but, with the Titan, I didn’t feel like I needed another wooden elephant, silk scarf or hand-carved chess set either.

—Casual Time #9 by Clarke Smith

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The Watch appears to have a new reference number: NH90033SL01J and sells for 10,230 Rupees, or $122 US.

Columbia is a brand known not for their watches, but for their outerwear and ski jackets.

Back in 2010, the Oregon company decided it wanted to get into watches, announcing in a press release:

Columbia partnered with the talented design team at Adao Global of Austin, TX to develop a collection that would translate the brand equity that Columbia has earned in the outdoor industry into the watch and outdoor instrument industry.

Adao Global was founded a mere six years earlier, eventually being acquired by another company five years after this press release. The founder, David Arnold, couldn’t make the company work.

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“The initial launch”, the press release states, “will consist of 10 styles with a total of 36 watches.” Among the styles:

During my periodic watch searches of the ShopGoodwill website—which I highly recommend as a place to take some low-stakes risks on what is in a sense watch gambling—I came across this brown dial field watch. No bids. $4.99. Seemingly brand new.

And since 2024 is the year of the Brown Dial (or is it white?), I figured I would bid $4.99 and see what happened.

I was skeptical, but willing to take a chance. Nothing happened. I won, and this bandless reference, CL7005 came to me from rural Texas.

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You can find it or its brethren for between $10 and $40 on eBay. Arriving, the watch was seemingly unworn, still with its protective coating on the watchback. Perhaps the previous owner really liked the band.

A watch like this probably cost $75 MSRP, based on this hype post when the line launched. The more feature-rich watches went between $150 and $250. Update: That’s assuming this watch comes from the Adao Global era. A WatchCrunch user tells me his wife bought his at a department store in the earlier aughts, maybe 2005-6, for closer to $50 or less. And it came with a leather band.

When the watch arrived, I quickly set up my low-budget workshop (judge away) and changed the battery, which was a breeze, and we were ticking away. The bezel rotates, with the additional button on the dial illuminating the face. The hands and hours are all lumed, and despite its age, held illumination for a good period.

As it turns out, this model, and a few of its siblings, have a small following on WatchCrunch.

I couldn’t find any records about when the Columbia-Adao relationship halted, but Columbia has partnered, now, with a company founded in 2017, the Phantom Brand Group, to make their watches. Which they’re also co-co-branding with colleges. You can find the somewhat handsome “Outbacker” model, with rotating dial compass, on Amazon.

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But with this guy, I’ll enjoy some adventures in the outdoors with that late aughts bezel, a sobered up, more serious version of the monster-y bezels of the early aughts.

—Casual Time #8 by Jim Swift

Have a story about a watch of yours? Share it with folks who want to hear about it.

The watch: Columbia Field Watch, Ref. no. CL700

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Every year, 68 teams make the NCAA tournament. In their swag bag, the NCAA and Fossil give each recipient a limited edition watch. Adding in coaches and volunteers, there are probably 2,000 or so watches—at least—made each year for the NCAA swag bag.

A 2015 article on AL.com gives you a look into what these swag bags are like:

According to the Sports Business Journal, players in the NCAA men's Division I basketball tournament receive: Fossil watch, Wilson bag, Wilson mini-ball, Men's Final Four bench chair, Jostens ring in a commemorative wooden display box, a piece of the Final Four court, and a Lucite Men's Final Four ticket.

Imagine getting a chair in a swag bag. Not very convenient if you’re flying. Still, something I would want to keep if I were given one. In recent years, at least since 2015, Fossil has been the watch supplier for these bags.

You can look at and bid on recent model years here.

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Perusing the ShopGoodwill website recently, I found such a watch being auctioned from the Portland-area Goodwill. It could have been given to a player, a coach, TV guy, referee or a student-volunteer. Whoever got it, never wore it and didn’t want it.

In the end, I won the auction for $17 and was happy to get this new watch, in box, with tags and protective covering. And in time for March Madness, as I run a bracket tournament for the subscribers of the magazine where I work.

This model, the #PR5475, is a private-label model version of the Fossil Minimalist, a three-hand quartz dress watch you can get for between $75 and $150, depending on the style and bracelet. One site values this model at $111 before the printing on the dial.

The 44mm dial wears wide, like a decorative plate. The syringe-style hands are lumed, and the second hand seems like it was chosen to be a basketball-colored orange. It mostly hits its marks and is quiet.

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There is no day/date complication and the tapered case is exceedingly thin at just 8mm. It’s water resistant to 5ATM and the included 22mm Stainless Steel mesh band is easily swapped, as it is a quick change style.

The hour indices are metal and raised, and beyond them at the edge of the dial, separated by a stamped chasm, are numeral minute indicators every five minutes, along with minute markers.

I don’t have any teams in this year’s tournament, nor have any of my teams every really had truly memorable runs, so the fact that this 2023 watch doesn’t have the year is a plus in my book. I kind of feel like Rob Lowe with his NFL hat: I’m here just because I like March Madness. Maybe someday my Billikens or Buckeyes will win it all. Not counting on it, though.

I figured the mesh bracelet would be minimally sufficient, but I was wrong: It’s weighty and ample, and easy to change: I’m keeping it. Say what you want about Fossils, they do make a big deal about having good bracelets: as leather is kind of their thing with the wallets, watch bands, purses, etc.

One dig against the watch is the textured crown, which can dig into your wrist if you’re not careful when sizing the bracelet. Depending on what strap you have on, this may or may not be a concern.

Not much is known about the Quartz movement, and with no JAPAN MOVT indicator on the dial and the thinness of the watch, it is probably a Chinese movement, or very small Japanese movement used on women’s watches. I could open it and find out, I guess, but with it running, I don’t see much of a reason. It keeps good time.

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If you have wondered why your Goodwill branded thrift stores seem to have a worse selection of watches, there’s a reason: Goodwill has gone online.

ShopGoodwill, not to be confused with GoodwillFinds, is an auction site, like EBay. You bid, and pay shipping and processing. The shipping can be costly for some finds, as much or more than a watch itself, but the site at least lets you know what the shipping will cost before you bid.

Spend some time there and you might score a #GoodwillFind or two, like I did. Enjoy the madness and may the best team win!

—Casual Time #7 by Jim Swift

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The watch: The Minimalist Three-Hand by Fossil ($75 to $150)

I am a failed minimalist. No, not an ineffectual creative employing the tenets of the visual arts and design movement that originated in 1960s New York. Rather, an unsuccessful practitioner of the simple living lifestyle that emphasizes, among other things, maintaining a reduced number of personal possessions. At least when it comes to watches.

I’ve had a watch here and a watch there, come and go, prior to the collecting bug biting me... hard. At the onset of my involvement in this hobby, I was determined to be a one-watch person. Aside from having less to keep track of, there was a certain romance about it. I envisioned it being a trademark accessory, one that I would be readily identified with, and one that I could hand down to the next generation. And I found it (I’ll save the specific model I selected for another possible write-up). 

Life, as it does, then threw my wife and I a curveball—albeit quite a happy one; we had twins. The experience has been and is amazing, but marooned me in a muddle of my own mental making (in hindsight, likely the fault of a sleep deficit, but separately, I love me some alliteration). What kind of monster would present a watch to one child, leaving the other empty-handed, ha! Not me, so one watch became two, and that was final. Until I convinced myself I needed a more robust timepiece for hypothetical weekend adventures which, akin to exercise and healthy living resolutions each new year, never fully materialized. And then what about my beloved nieces and nephew—they would no doubt treasure a memento from their favorite uncle (okay, only uncle). At some point recently, I scanned the top of my dresser and caught ten watch faces in my rotation staring back at me. 

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In the mid-2000s, I attended night classes towards a Master’s degree at a satellite campus of a major university. My then-job was paying the tuition, and the material reviewed was engaging, so why not? There was an information/greeter’s station at the entrance of the lobby in the building where the courses were held. One evening, to my excitement, I somehow noticed that the older gentleman who staffed the desk was sporting a stunning, vintage, silver-dialed Omega Seamaster with a date magnifier on a wonderful beads-of-rice bracelet. I’ve never been shy to strike up a conversation, so naturally I inquired about the Omega. Pulling from my dulled memory, I recall that he was the original owner, having purchased it in the 1960s. It appeared pristine, though I suspected it was a daily wearer, if not an only watch. 

That gentleman and his Seamaster have crossed my mind repeatedly in the years since. Not from the perspective of a potential watch do-over if I was given the chance, Marty McFly-style, rather, with eyes facing (back to, sorry—couldn’t resist) the future. As I gradually gift my watches away, I anticipate holding on to one that will keep me company in my twilight. But which one? While the competition may be fierce—and considering one or two additional planned acquisitions—I already know the answer. My Grand Seiko SBGX261, which is—gulp—a quartz watch. 

Why this one? It ticks (get it? quartz!) several boxes for me. I am broadly a devotee of Japanese products, and of Seiko even before I was aware of Grand Seiko (GS).

At 37mm across and 10mm thick, the size is Goldilocks-esque for my slim wrist. The just-right proportions coupled with a crisply clean aesthetic, yields a piece I can adapt effortlessly to dressing up or down as the situation demands. My mother-in-law (the source of my wife’s, who uncoincidentally is not a watch aficionado, superior to mine financial acumen) is prone to echo the well-known real estate advice, ‘buy the smallest house in the best neighborhood.’ The SBGX261 is the least expensive model in the GS lineup, but one receives the equivalent superb build quality, including dial furniture and case finishing, as its costlier siblings, all constructed and assembled in-house by one of the most vertically integrated brands in the watch industry.

On to the elephant in the room (I imagine an Indian one since that’s my country of origin), yes it’s quartz, but no, it’s not just a quartz. It’s powered by a high accuracy quartz (HAQ) movement bursting with impressive features. While its +/- 10 seconds per year has been bested by other manufacturers, in real life it has varied no more than -2 seconds for me. Again, that is per year! If you crave further technical details—homegrown and aged-to-perfection quartz crystals matched to circuits tuned specifically for that crystal, twin impulse seconds hand advancement with backlash technology, instantaneous date changeover, etc., then I highly recommend that you read Jack Forster’s article entitled, in part, Sexy Robot. Overall seductiveness aside, something that runs, runs exceedingly well, and with minimal input demands (Forster mentions the sealed movement not requiring service for up to a 50 year interval, which I understand was walked back by GS, but undoubtedly covers my remaining shelf life) sounds pretty good to the older version of me. 

I’ve previously rattled off these specs (and more, exhaustingly) attempting to justify to anyone asking that yep, I paid that much for a quartz watch. I no longer do that, nor feel compelled to. At over 25 years old currently, the movement design and technology is still at or near best-in-class. As an individual of modest means, and coming from humbler immigrant roots, I’ll never own anything else that is the cream of the crop in its category. Certainly not a mechanical watch (what best signifies here becomes harder to pin down, though I’m looking at you, A. Lange & Söhne). But that’s still not the strongest evidence for my conclusion that the SBGX261 is ‘The One’ for me. It’s because I’ve bought it beforehand, sort of.

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You see, I formerly owned an SBGX063, a champagne-hued variant, early in the independent period when GS dials were double-signed with Seiko. The dial was spectacular— transforming from a light golden tint to a silvery grey depending on ambient lighting—and I’ve read anecdotally that it is a challenging technical feat for GS to fabricate. However, I convinced myself it was too formal for my tastes, and preferred a black dial for versatility. If I’m being completely transparent, it was also that I subscribed to the popular notion among watch enthusiasts that mechanical is ‘better’ than quartz. So I replaced the SBGX063 with its black dialed mechanical (automatic) analogue, the SBGR253. 

In my estimation, I had arrived at my realistic watch destination. Here was my off-the-beaten path, but uncompromising alternative to the omnipresent Rolex Datejust. Not drawing unwanted attention, but thoroughly appreciated by fellow watch nerds. I really tried to bond with it, but it wore top-heavy, and I missed the dead accuracy and set-and-forget nature of the HAQ GS. Off to a new home the automatic went, and its void was filled by the best of both worlds, the black dialed SBGX261. 

It continues to bring me joy each time I slip it on. I paired it with a lovely aftermarket beads-of-rice bracelet. I think the gentleman with the Seamaster would have approved.

—Casual Time #6 by Prashanth Parmar

Have a story about a watch of yours? Share it with folks who want to hear about it.

This Christmas, my Timex Weekender turns 10 years old. A lot has happened in that decade, and this loud guy is still ticking after taking a licking.

In 2013, I was newly married and my wife asked me for a suggestion as to what my in-laws could get me, and I suggested A Timex Weekender watch with an Olive strap. It was on sale for $20.

For whatever reason, I wanted to wear a watch again as the novelty of having a smartphone as your timekeeper was wearing off, and this was before so-called “smartwatches” became popular a few years later. In fact, I had just cancelled my smartphone data plan!

I had always liked field watches (though now, I prefer divers), and this seemed like a perfect gift suggestion: affordable, go everywhere, sufficiently water resistant for my purposes, and with Indiglo. Who doesn’t love Indiglo?

Nobody wants to ask their newly-minted in-laws for an expensive watch, except douchebags or rich people. And this was something I really wanted, a gift that would be appreciated, and appreciate it I did.

For the better part of the next decade, this was the only watch I owned and I wore it everywhere.

Front row seats to Inaugurations of Presidents? Check.

Television appearances? Check.

Weddings of friends? Check.

I wore it to work, and a horologically inclined colleague joked about my love of my “forking Timex.” (Forking being a substitute word for Fuck, not a tuning fork reference.) I stuck with this as my daily wear watch until said colleague gifted me and my colleagues a diver I treasure, but more on that in a future post.

As you can see, the watch bears a number of battle scars. This being a popular watch, one of the most popular in the world, in fact, I don’t remember how the dings and the scratches came about.

The second hand has never really lined up perfectly, but the watch keeps time. For Quartz analog movements in this price range, they never do, and I never really cared as long as the time was accurate, which it was. The loudness never really bothered me, except for sleeping.

As my twins, now aged six, started acquiring object permanence and focusing on their motor skills, this watch’s Indiglo was a big highlight. I can still hear my girls laughing as they pushed the crown again, and again, on our loveseat in our Alexandria condo just to see its blue hue.

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They did it so much they killed the Indiglo on this watch, and on an all blue plastic Timex Expedition I bought during the Blues’ Stanley Cup run that got beat until death, RIP. (I should have bought this one! Still might.)

The strap, which I still have, is in great shape. Though, I’ve used other NATO straps on the watch for different occasions. And the battery change of the CR2016 battery on these watches is a breeze. Replacing the battery did not solve my Indiglo woes, and that’s just the price of having kids.

Timex appears to be replacing the Weekender, though not yet discontinuing it, with the new, somewhat pricier, Standard line of watches, which are much quieter. I have one—40th birthday!—and like those, too.

But this watch will always have a place in my heart, being the little Timex that could, as it helped restore a love of watches that I lost, temporarily, during the advent of the smartphone.

A perfect Christmas gift that I cherish ten years later.

—Casual Time #5 by Jim Swift

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Every watch has a story. Some watches tell the story of career advancement, educational achievement, or the birth of a child. The G-Shock purchased by a private first class in Camp Pendleton before his deployment overseas has a story, as does the gold Rolex given to an accounts manager on the day of her retirement. Some watches merely say how large of a bank account their owner has. Anytime a watch finds itself on someone’s wrist, there’s probably a story behind the reason why or what came after it was strapped on. Here’s one more, that of my Omega Speedmaster Professional, reference number 145.022.

This story begins at a birthday party; or more accurately, a birthday luncheon. It was the summer of 2018, and my wife and I joined her family at a cozy Cuban restaurant in Old Town Orange to celebrate my father-in-law’s birthday. Warm panes con lechon and Cubano sandwiches joined chilled cans of Materva and toasty papas rellena across our table. The women of our group discussed the clothing and gem shops they wanted to scope while we were in the area, and the men discussed football and cars. I spotted a cigar shop a few doors down and piqued my father-in-law’s interest in a visit. We cheered the patriarch of our family, this loving man who treats me like a son and is very much a father figure to me, and we enjoyed our meal before breaking off into two groups, with the women headed in one direction filled with fabric and amethyst while we hoped to breathe in some Padrones or Olivas.

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After the cigar shop, our plan was to head over to a vinyl record store that we were unaware was closed at the time; we found that out much later though, as my wandering eyes first diverted my attention to the presence of a vintage watch shop. My father-in-law is not a watch guy, but he was happy to humor me and give the shop a look. We browsed the cases along the wall and in the center of the store; Rolex Datejust, Rolex Submariner, vintage Patek Philippe Calatrava, etc. With my humble collection at the time, I could not imagine paying the creeping rising prices of vintage Rolex or the exorbitant costs of a gold Patek, so I wasn’t too intrigued by anything at first glance. As my eyes panned across the center case, I spied the black aluminum bezel of a vintage Omega Speedmaster Professional. I let out an auditory gasp as I stared longingly at it. At my father-in-law’s question, I told him that the Speedy was my grail and explained the history of the piece to him. The salesman added that the model in the case was a reference 145.022 from the 1970s, and a watch of this reference was used on Apollo 17 (later research suggests a reference 145.022 was worn by astronaut Ron Evans). I mentioned to my father-in-law that I was saving up to buy one, and hoped to acquire it in a couple of years. After a few more minutes of browsing, we departed the store and rejoined our wives. 

Six months passed by, and I continued to put some earnings aside in hopes of saving enough for a Speedmaster of my own. Just before the Christmas season, I found a vintage, gold plated, 1968 Omega Geneve on eBay for a couple hundred dollars, and while it wasn’t a Speedmaster, I felt one step closer to my goal since the Geneve said Omega on the dial. I wore the Geneve to Christmas dinner at my in-law’s house.

When we arrived, my in-laws were in great spirits and seemingly more enthusiastic than usual. My in-laws are Christmas People; they love the season and decorate to the nines. My father-in-law was born into poverty in Castro’s Cuba, and while he practices frugality most of the year, Christmas is his time to shower the people he loves with presents galore. 

As dinner wrapped up, my father-in-law excitedly announced it was time for gifts. I prepared my then-toddler aged daughter for the moments before the flood of wrapping paper and toys she would soon find herself in, and I settled into a comfortable chair behind her in the corner of my in-law’s living room. Naturally, my daughter, as the only child present, received the first gifts of the night, and soon bow-adorned boxes and bags with stripes and snowmen ping-ponged across the room, putting smiles on the faces of my wife, sisters-in-law, a boyfriend or two, and the toddler. 

My mother-in-law handed me a stack of four boxes, all bound together with a nice thread and a bow. I untied the stack and opened the first of the boxes, and inside I discovered a solitary card that wished me a “Happy Birthday,” which I found curious since my birthday was two months away. I opened the second box, and a card inside said, “Happy Father’s Day.” The third box wished me a “Happy Veterans Day” (I served in the US Marines). 

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Lastly, I opened the fourth box, the largest in the bundle, and inside I found one more card on top of a squat rectangular jewelry box. “Merry Christmas!” I opened the jewelry box and found the Speedmaster my father-in-law and I were eyeing in the vintage store over the summer; some time after his birthday lunch, he and my mother-in-law returned to buy it for me.

I was completely shocked. The grail was in my hands. And while I was nervous about accepting such an extraordinary gift, my hesitance was gently washed away by the look of joy on the warm faces of my in-laws, who were as excited to give me the Speedmaster as I was to receive it. The Geneve went into the box, and the Speedy graced my wrist at last.

I cherish my Speedmaster. One day it will be passed on to my children, an heirloom with a story they can tell their children when they pass it down. A simple story of love, family, and Christmas.

—Casual Time #4 by Eddie Alexander, adapted and expanded from a letter published in Fratello by the author.

Have a story about a watch of yours? Share it with folks who want to hear about it.

The Watch is an Omega Speedmaster Professional Moonwatch 3590.50/ST145.022.

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I’m an LA guy.

I was born in Los Angeles County and raised here. I married my wife in LA, bought my first home in LA city proper, and my kids were born Angelenos, too. I’m a die-hard Lakers fan, I root, root, root for the Dodgers, and I can barely function if the weather drops below 70 degrees. My Instagram handle, @el_lay_time, is an homage to the city’s paper of record, mine and the city’s shared Latino heritage, and my enthusiasm for watches. So when my wife and I were celebrating our 15^th wedding anniversary, the watch anniversary, it only made sense for me to choose a watch that felt more personal than a standard luxury Swiss timepiece; I wanted a locally manufactured piece from then-Los Angeles based Weiss Watch Company.

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Many enthusiasts today recognize Weiss Watch Company as a Nashville, Tennessee based independent watchmaker; but the brand was originally founded by Cameron Weiss in the South Bay region of Los Angeles in 2013. After graduating from the University of Southern California in the late 2000s, Cameron would learn the precise art of watchmaking and manufacturing under renowned haute horology houses Audemars Piguet and Vacheron Constantin. After a few years of assembling and repairing some of the most luxurious timepieces in the world, Cameron returned to the South Bay to launch the Weiss Watch Company. Unique from most other “Made in America” watch brands, Weiss made a name for itself by manufacturing their own cases and dials, and powering their classically styled field and pilot watches with Swiss made manual winding movements assembled and finished in LA. In 2016, Weiss made another leap as an independent watchmaker by releasing their own in-house manufactured movement, the manual winding Caliber 1003.

I had been following the growth of Weiss Watch Company since I first entered the watch hobby in 2015, intrigued by the prospect of a homegrown watch in my collection. By 2020, my collection contained pieces from well-known brands like Omega, Rolex, Tudor, Tissot, Hamilton, and Seiko. I also owned a vintage Vietnam-era, military issued Hamilton GG-W-113, which I considered my patriotic watch. But that watch, with its Swiss ETA based movement, and the other Swiss and Japanese pieces I owned, didn’t satisfy my craving for a truly American-made piece. With our wedding anniversary approaching, I zeroed in on a recent Weiss release that would fulfill my wish: the 100 piece limited edition, Weiss American Issue Field Watch – Ultralight; a 42mm pilot watch with a titanium case, blue brass dial, and an aircraft grade aluminum manual winding movement, all manufactured in-house and assembled in my hometown. 

Compared to Weiss’s 38mm field watches, these meatier 42mm offerings fall more firmly into pilot watch territory. Even in the Weiss logo, the font of the name tapered at the ends like wings and spelled with a propeller in place of an “I”, leans into the imagery of airplanes and aviation.  Just below the center of the dial, two lines of script inform the wearer of the materials used in the watch’s construction, and underneath the Arabic 6 o’clock hour marker, where one would usually see “Swiss Made,” the text reads, simply, “Los Angeles, CA.”  

On the caseback side, the Weiss Ultralight puts its black aluminum movement on display, adorned with blued screws, a golden balance wheel, and the name Weiss engraved in copper colored font. Just to the lower right of the Weiss name on the movement, one can see the faintly engraved initials—USA—to indicate the American birthplace of the CAL1003 movement. The watch came paired with a handsome tan leather strap from the Chicago, Illinois-based Horween Leather Company, though I often wear it with a gray “Tundra” Matte Supreme NATO™ strap from Crown and Buckle, or a taupe textured calfskin strap from Veblenist. 

To non-Angelenos, a pilot watch may not feel like a natural fit for the international image of Los Angeles: a movie star’s playground with flashy Hollywood premieres and its warm, sunny beaches. But to natives, the aviation industry and the region’s role in the history of aviation and aerospace is a large part of our story. Angelenos employed by Howard Hughes, Lockheed, Donald Douglas, and Northrop built much of the nation’s fighting air fleet in World War II and beyond, and more Angelenos would go on to build space shuttles from the Apollo missions to the present time, with SpaceX headquarters based in Hawthorne. Combined with Los Angeles International Airport (LAX), the aerospace and aviation industries remain a major driver of the region’s economy, and a prominent employer of Angelenos.

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I grew up under the flight paths of the planes flying in and out of LAX, and my mother worked early morning hours in the airline services industry. When I was a kid, sometimes we’d pick her up from work and I’d sit in the backseat of my father’s car and watch the planes take off over the beach into western skies. Some days, she’d come home from work and hand me plastic pilot wings, the kind flight attendants would give to the kids on planes. My godfather and his brother worked on parts for fighter jets at Northrop, and my wife’s great grandmother was a “Rosie the Riveter" who worked in a Hughes factory during World War II.

Contrary to the image of LA as a haven for models and aspiring actors, of mansions, swimming pools, and red carpets, when I think of Los Angeles, I think of working-class folks leaving their homes before dawn to work in maintaining the aviation industry, keeping the planes in the sky and the passengers comfortable. They’re tough, they work their tails off, but they’re humble. The Weiss Watch Company Ultralight is a perfect tribute to the people of this city and its history, and a watch I’m extremely proud to own.

—Casual Time #3 by Eddie Alexander

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Believe it or not, my dad was on the below flight in the ‘50’s. (Editor’s note: Northwest Orient Flight 2)

Wreckage of N74608 (Courtesy of the CAB / Wikipedia)

The co-pilot had flown in on a different plane the night before. Turns out that at the time, the cowl flap setting was the opposite on the Stratocruiser, one switch was up when engaged, on the other plane he had flown in on it was down (or vice versa).

So, during pre-flight, the co-pilot confirmed the incorrect setting, which led to major buffeting and loss of control after takeoff. When the pilot couldn’t gain control, he opted to ditch into Puget Sound outside of Seattle.

The flight steward was lost in the landing. He was in the belly of the plane retrieving wine for First Class passengers (in my dad’s re-telling) and the area he was in sheared off when they hit the water. I believe the others were lost to hypothermia, given the water temperature in Puget Sound in April.

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Amazingly, it was his second airplane crash. The first was a troop training flight in Florida during WWII. Also ditched in the water. Surprisingly, he suffered no injuries in either crash. Although he later realized the feeling in his hands had been affected—major sensitivity to cold weather for the rest of his life.

I still wear the Hamilton daily that he had on when they crashed. I had it restored by a local craftsman after he had passed away.

Inscription on the back (my Dad’s nickname was Von and my Mom’s name was Margaret.)

Yep, 1950 and it still runs like a charm. Despite its jaunt into salt water.

Even more surprisingly (at least to me!) I had never heard the story of this previous crash until I was visiting him and my mom when I was about 22 years old.

A friend and I had flown down to visit for the weekend in Portland where they were living at the time. My friend had a dad who was a pilot and, as a result, was interested in anything about planes and flying. I was telling him the story on the flight, and he started peppering me with questions. I told him that I didn’t know all the details (my dad was both German and a child of the depression era—pretty stoic, and information was rarely volunteered), but that he could ask him when we got there.

We get to my folks’ place and George tells my dad he wants to hear all about his plane crash. My dad’s getting us a couple of beers out of the fridge and without turning around says “Oh, which one?” I’m like: which one!?!? He proceeds to tell me he didn’t really count the first one since it was in warm water and fairly shallow.

Quite a guy. He used to tell people when he flew after all those experiences that they were on the safest flight they’d ever take… That there was no way he could be in three plane crashes.

Not sure how that information might have landed with the recipient.

—Casual Time #2 by Carl Vonder Haar

The watch is a Hamilton Boulton, which was produced between 1940 and 1952. There have been subsequent re-releases, including recently, as it was featured in the latest Indiana Jones film.

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Photos of the ticket, baggage claim check, and gate pass.

Carl notes: “Mementos. Sadly now just photos. The originals were lost somewhere between Covid and selling our home and moving.”

Further Reading on the crash

• The Other Maury Island Incident by Bruce Haulman

• Airborne Shipwreck, An Interview with Al Kearl by Ronald and Constance Burke

Have a story about a watch of yours? Share it with folks who want to hear about it.

The first paying job you can get in a Congressional office is as a Staff Assistant, and there are two paths for that position: sorting the mail or giving tours. In early 2007, fresh out of college, Arizona Senator Jon Kyl’s office hired two new “staff asses” and I was one of them. And our Chief of Staff picked me to be the guy who gives tours.

My friends often joke about my Max Fischer-like obsessions, and getting tours down perfect was yet another obsession to add to the list. I even have the hair.

Around the time I was hired, the years-long construction Capitol Visitors’ Center, or CVC, as we called it, was nearing completion. It was a huge undertaking. Imagine constructing what is essentially a gigantic bunker that has 18,000 more square feet than the Capitol itself. Post 9/11, it’d streamline visitor security screening, offer gift shops, restaurants, meeting spaces, and a wonderful museum.

It also gave the Architect of the Capitol, sort of its bureaucratic landlord, an opportunity to kill off intern and staff-led Capitol tours once and for all. And there was good reason to do so: a lot of intern/staff-led tours are awful. This is because most offices don’t take it seriously and let interns do the tours instead of the things they’d normally be doing: folding letters, licking envelopes or answering angry phone calls.

Given the choice between paper cuts and/or a daily migraine or tooling around one of the country’s most historic and beautiful buildings, most people chose giving tours. (Except the lunatics who reveled in turning phone calls into their own personal Oxford Union.)

To make the tours more fun, or because they were lazy, these interns would either a.) read from a sheet of facts, making the tour very boring or b.) make stuff up. I cannot tell you how many times I heard these ‘terns spin some yarn. The chandelier in the small Senate Rotunda? It was raised from the Titanic! I would call them on this in front of their tour with quips like: “OK, Clive Cussler.” Yeah, I was (and remain) that guy.

The AOC (no, not her) wanted to put an end to the tomfoolery, and proposed eliminating the ability of offices to give such tours. Outrage ensued: Members like this constituent service, especially the House members who have to run for office every two years.

Nowadays, sadly, Republicans are better known for organization and giving pre-insurrection planning tours or walking the halls after a few pops to scream at Senate Pages enjoy the beauty of Constantino Brumidi’s Apotheosis of Washington in the middle of the night. But you get the point: Taking away tours is potentially taking away votes.

So the folks at POLITICO asked around to find a staff-led tour guide that would counter the not-entirely wrong narrative, and somehow, that led them to me.

My office was press-averse, so this was sort of a big deal and I didn’t want to blow it. Thankfully, I didn’t.

Keep in mind, this was pre-smartphone. Yes, I had a Blackberry, but looking at your phone back then was considered rude. So I had to have a watch for tours, and this was my go to dating back to high school:

The Victorinox Swiss Army field watch #24221.

I loved that watch so much, in fact, it was my second of that model.1 In high school, I was the gear lead at Eddie Bauer, and knew a little bit about watches, but I wasn’t a lug nut, so to speak. I could change links, or even a replace a battery. I knew what really good watches were, and spent my lunch breaks at the Beachwood Place Bailey Banks & Biddle ogling the Omega Seamaster from my favorite Bond flick, Goldeneye. Until they asked me to stop.

A quartz watch in a resin case, my first Victorinox met its end when the lugs eventually wore out the resin, making it impossible to put on another strap. This was not fixable, so a Timex Expedition lasted me through college and into the workforce.

But one day, at a store at nearby Union Station, I found another for $150, which was ~30% of my weekly salary. Normally, I would have refrained: I don’t need a watch, I already have one that works. But I was flush with a little extra cash since I won a contest run by SpikeTV thanks to my mom’s contest addiction. I also bought a top of the line Mac desktop and a Canon Rebel DSLR that I still have (and use) to this day.

And that Capitol tour in Politico? Well, it helped compel a number of members to sign onto a “Dear Colleague” letter that ultimately resulted in a compromise that allowed the continuation of staff-led tours, provided we took a class, booked our tours at a certain time, and followed a prescribed course to avoid clogging. Even my boss, who hated Dear Colleague letters, signed on.

I wore that thing everywhere for a few years, until Blackberries gave way to the iPhone and Androids. Looking back through my photographs, I wore it on a family vacation to Egypt, but as our smartphone addiction grew, my Swiss Army watch disappeared into storage, and the battery died.

A few years later, then-Rep. Mark Kirk (R-IL) fought again against the CVC regime and their “red coat” tour guides. He was fed up with the limitations, and so another “Dear Colleague” led to another legislative effort, a bipartisan one, that found Jon Kyl and Debbie Wasserman-Schultz’s signatures on the same letter.

Not helping matters was an open letter Facebook post from one of those “professional” tour guides named Shane Hanley that made the rounds on e-mail list servers. Hanley wasn’t all wrong, but his kicker included a sucker-punch: “We make at least 10G more than you.” 2

Neither side got what they wanted, really: The Architect didn’t kill off tours, and the old way of tours was dead. If you’re ever in Washington, the “red coat” tours are quite good, but if you want to see the old Senate baths, you’ll need a VIP tour from a member, staffer, or journalist who can take you.3

I tried getting the Swiss Quartz movement replaced in the watch during the pandemic, but it did not appear to take. The battery died fairly quickly. It’s not even easy to find out what the movement is without opening it up. I looked and looked to no avail.

You can pick them up for $45 or so these days, used. Including some versions that were customized for customers.

Maybe I’ll try again some day to get it running, but for now, it sits in my watch drawer with fond memories of being on my wrist during the last days of the wild west of staff-led Capitol tours.

—Casual Time #1 by Jim Swift

I am lucky to be able to write about what I want where I work. Not everyone can say that.

Some people had to take what they really think to other publications, or create their own blog. Alas, that’s often a constraint of the biz, but a lot of people are cowards, too. Others sought escape from the doldrums of covering this political hellscape by writing novels or starting hobby blogs.

I had a hobby blog for years until I got to the point where I didn’t need it anymore, because for the most part I could write what I want. But that hobby blog was mostly about politics and policy, where I was a practitioner. Now, writing about it isn’t a hobby, it’s been my job for the past 11 years.

Having recently turned 40, I do find myself thinking a lot of about the limited concept of time. How fickle a mistress is, how we spend it, how I spend it.

Bill Bryson once wrote that "It really doesn't pay to go back and look again at the things that once delighted you, because it's unlikely they will delight you now." And while that is often true of places, it is not true of things. At least for me, anyway.

There was a point in my younger life where I really liked watches. I was the gear lead at Eddie Bauer as a teenager, and I’d replace batteries and size bracelets on our Fossil-made Eddie Bauer watches. Mine are probably hiding in a drawer somewhere in Ohio.

But then, smartphones came around and I stopped wearing them for a while, until I asked for a very loud Timex Weekender field watch for Christmas one year. (I am an aficionado for the cheap ones.)

And a few years ago, I was given a gift of a nice dive watch, which I treasure, and that got me back into watches.

My readers at The Bulwark will indulge my links in the daily afternoon Overtime newsletter, but I don’t want to bore them at length because not everybody cares about watches and personal story time.

So, why the name? I explain here, but the idea behind it comes from our weekly Casual essay we published when I worked at The Weekly Standard.

This is going to be a low-production value operation. If you have a story about a watch and it’s a good story, let’s tell it.

Watches of Espionage is one of my favorite horological blogs, but how many CIA employees do you know? Know any folks who got a Breitling from the King of Jordan? Me neither. But I do know a guy who was was working at a golf course and whose grail was a Breitling. A watch-loving mentor of his helped him finally get it. Stories like those.

So, welcome.