Time on My Hands

Some horological ramblings

It’s been a while since I wrote about watches here, so you’d be forgiven for thinking I’d lost interest in the little machines altogether. That’s not entirely true, and when thinking about how to write something thoughtful about watches this week, I figured a little free-form riff is in order.

The evolution of one’s enthusiasm for any hobby is ever changing, whether that be Land Rovers, photography, watches, or Scotch whisky. But for me, one pet peeve I’ve long held is an annoyance with a focus on the object itself, rather than an activity in which it’s used. A pristine, leather shod Defender, whose owner is scared to drive on a gravel road, or set a mug of tea on its fender (“wing” in British parlance) without a coaster, is a crime. A photographer, who obsesses over the obscurity of a specific lens or the special edition camera body rather than on the photos it takes, feels overly performative (looking at you, Leica nerds). Don’t get me started on people who collect wines or whiskies with no intention of drinking them. But you already know my ethos around using things, especially watches and Land Rovers, so I don’t need to further expound. And before you think I’m being too “judge-y,” I temper my spicy, curmudgeonly opinions with a healthy dose of humble self awareness. A career writing about luxury products does not exactly entitle me to a moral high ground.