Going Commando

Packing for Geneva

As Watches & Wonders 2024 looms in a few weeks (um, two weeks to be precise), I am faced with a recurring dilemma: what to wear? Normally, I don’t give a thought to my wardrobe. In case you haven’t noticed, I live in a pretty consistent rotation of commando-style sweaters, vaguely tactical-looking hiking style trousers, and rather scuffed Blundstone boots. My clothing vibe closely aligns with my wristwatch taste—functional, durable, chunky. This is fine for the work-from-home life of a freelance writer-cum-podcaster, but any time a more refined event rears its head, it sends me scurrying to the back of my closet for something vaguely dressy, of which I own few. So here I am again, dusting off and trying on some old sportcoats and baggy pants I haven’t worn—much less seen—since before the coronavirus pandemic.

In the spring of 2020, I was invited to the Explorers Club Annual Dinner by Rolex, an incredible opportunity to sit at one of the head tables with various legends of exploration (though I’m a member of the club, I don’t have the budget to pay the $800+ for even a “cheap” seat at a back table). Though you might envision the event populated by rugged men and women wearing a lot of khaki and Tilley hats opening bottles of Tusker lager with their teeth, from the photos I’ve seen, there’s a lot of black tie and evening gowns. Rather than rent a tuxedo for this momentous occasion, I figured I’d actually go out and buy one. Now I’m aware that a decent tuxedo costs about the same as an Explorer’s Club dinner ticket. But my logic was, every once in a while I do get invited to a black tie event and showing up in the a rental tux and pre-tied bowtie that a high school kid sweated in at prom seemed a bit gauche. I went to a well regarded men’s store in Minneapolis and got fitted for the tux, a sharp midnight blue ensemble, and took delivery the week before my flight to New York. You might guess what happened next. COVID-19 shut the world down, the dinner got cancelled, and that tuxedo has languished in the back of my closet ever since. 

(Not a tux.)

To add insult to injury, since I bought that tux, I’ve lost about 30 pounds and the suit is entirely too big for me. While I don’t regret the weight loss, I do hold out hope that, given enough notice, I could have a tailor take it in to fit prior another opportunity (I was invited to this year’s dinner by Rolex, but had to beg off due to a prior engagement). To be clear, that opportunity is not Watches & Wonders. It’s kind of a dressy event, but not black tie.

I’m someone who has always subscribed to the “be yourself” mantra. Own your look. By that philosophy, I should turn up in Geneva in my outsdoorsy “uniform.” After all, I’ve largely made my name in this industry as the blunt instrument who simply takes fancy watches underwater. Heck, maybe I go the full nine yards and just walk into the Palexpo in a wetsuit (or a drysuit with tux underneath, a la James Bond circa Goldfinger). But I’ve flirted with that in the past and admit to having felt… well, like a fish out of water. There is something to be said for dressing the part, respecting the venue, and looking sharp. It’s like arriving on a dive boat or trailhead in brogues and a sportcoat. Dressing appropriately has its merits. 

A complicating factor in choosing clothes to wear for taking meetings with watch company CEOs and marketing professionals is, these shows are often akin to endurance sports. There’s a lot of walking, often carrying a shoulder bag, in an overheated exhibit hall. Comfortable footwear and breathable, cool fabrics are appreciated. One year I made the mistake of wearing a wool tweed blazer to the now defunct Salon International de la Haute Horlogerie (SIHH). I must have lost five pounds in water weight from sweating so much. I think one PR person was genuinely concerned for me as I sat wiping my brow, chugging mineral water under the hot lights in what was essentially a jacket made for stalking deer in the chilly glens of Scotland. I was close to stripping down to my undershirt and using my tie as a sweat band.

Since that experience, I wised up. I long ago ditched a tie (I’ve never liked ties) and opted for cotton trousers and a lightweight sportcoat from cheap and cheerful Uniqlo brand, while going for a pair of leather wingtip shoes with a chunky sole and good arch support. But I feel like I need to up my game a bit. Showing up in Fjallraven pants and my Blunnies (even polished) simply won’t cut it. What this means I’m not sure yet. I probably need to seek out a decent pair of pants and a shirt or two, maybe a versatile and affordable sportcoat. I don’t foresee a lot of dressier occasions in my future, but the odd wedding, funeral, or baptism does come up now and then. 

As for watches, I have more confidence in my wrist wear for stuff like this. In my early days going to watch shows, I’d bring a quiver of watches and swap around multiple times a day, depending on what would suit my appointment schedule. Meeting with Rolex? On goes the Submariner. On the walk over to Seiko, a quick change to my Grand Seiko GMT. And so on. One year I actually decided to simply wear one vintage watch from a brand that wasn’t even exhibiting. It was a good strategy—doesn’t offend anyone, yet is a fun wink to fellow watch enthusiasts, of whom there are myriad, as you might guess. And always on the right wrist, freeing up the left for trying on the new stuff for photos.

This year, I’ve been invited to two dinner engagements, one with Rolex, at their headquarters(!) and one with Bremont, with their new ambassador, the filmmaker and climber, Jimmy Chin. So you can guess which two watches I’ll be packing along. And while you might be wondering why I pander to the brands by wearing an “appropriate” watch, I’ll remind you that watch journalism, with some exceptions, is not really neutral, apolitical, hard-hitting reportage where we hide our tastes and preferences for the sake of objectivity. It is “product journalism” where we’re covering what’s new, with some subjective opinions. And if I’m going for dinner at Rolex, in Geneva, you’d better believe I’m going to come proper, if only for the personal thrill of it.

Comfort zone.

I’m many things, but a sartorial savant is not one of them. I am happy to admit that, since the majority of my life doesn’t involve needing to dress a certain way. The irony is, back in high school, I was something of an eccentric dresser. I went from full jock mode in my freshman year—sweatpants, t-shirts, sneakers—to tweed waistcoats, loafers, and black turtlenecks by the time I graduated. I think we all experiment, go through phases, and find our “look” as we get older. Despite my current gnashing of teeth over what to pack along to Geneva, odds are I’ll turn up in what reflects my personality, my taste, and comfort—both physical and psychological. In the end, honestly no one really cares. And then, before I know it, I’ll be back home, swathed in my commando sweater and Blundstones.