Humortråden
- Trådstarter Stipey
- Opprettet
- Medlem
- 11. juni 2008
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- 1.215
Bezel
Støttemedlem
- Medlem
- 11. juni 2008
- Innlegg
- 1.215
Hugo Cabret
Støttemedlem
På jobben gikk jeg gjennom spam-filteret til mailserveren. Der så jeg en mail fra en (jente?) som søkte jobb hos oss. Det var mailadressen younglove14@hotmail,com. Det ble ikke til at hun fikk noen jobb....
8
Edit: Vi hadde forøvrig også autogenererte brukernavn. Lars Danielsen (LADA) og Per Døvik (PEDO) var ikke så fornøyde. Men jeg hadde mulighet for å endre det....
-Akk. Noen venner av meg averterte etter ekstrahjelp til kaffebaren de drev; en av søkerne hadde oppgitt en epostadresse av typen 'lengstekukenibergen@hotmail.com'. Han trakk ikke det lengste strået, selv om han ikke ble fanget i noe spamfilter.
Fun fact - en kroatisk ekskollega holdt på å gjøre på seg da hun oppdaget at Peder var et navn heromkring; i Kroatia er det betegnelsen på, øh, Per Døviks brukernavn.
Men 80-talls barna tar denne på strak arm:
Van Gogh: hadde kun ett øre (høyre phonokabel & bilde kabel)
Bethoven: Han var døv (derfor bildekabel)
Stevie Wonder: Blind (Høyre/Venstre phonokabel)
Det har jo eksistert noen slike lister før, men nå har /r/watchescirclejerk etter 32 edits tatt den helt ut:
What Your Watch Brand Says About You
A. Lange & Söhne: You work in investments, but nowhere as common as Wall Street. You have been known to casually ask to compare balance bridges with Patek owners.
Alpina: You are subscribed to Outside magazine, and can quote passages from Krakauer’s “Into the Wild” by by heart. You own a pair of serious hiking boots, but they languish in your closet, unworn and unmuddied. You could not afford a Rolex Explorer. If pressed, you would not be able to articulate why anyone would actually need an “Alpinist” watch.
Audemars Piguet: You are a rapper, and you think the brand name is “Royal Oak”.
Apple Watch: You are either a secretary or nine-figure earning CEO at a Fortune 500 company. You use your Apple Watch Series 4 to track both your weekly jogs and chicken roasts. You are vaguely familiar with the idea that other, “old-fashioned” watches exist, but assume they will soon disappear once they are no longer repaired by their manufacturers.
Azimuth: Your two most treasured possessions are an autographed photo of Leonard Nimoy and a replica copy of the Voyager probe Golden Record. You can only dream of owning an MB&F.
Ball: As you walk through your LED lit hallway, down the stairs illuminated by motion sensing flood lamps, and towards your basement model train table outfitted with 3000 Lumen overhead halogen bulbs, you’re gladly reassured by your watch's Tritium lume - for the brief second it takes to find the switch.
Balticus: You are either a metrosexual 20-something working in Warsaw, or a teenage boy living in rural Estonia. You don’t get to play with your Overwatch team as much as you’d like due to the time difference. You dream of moving to Berlin or New York.
Baume et Mercier: You were touched when your wife got you a Clifton for your wedding. You have since gotten a Rolex, but wear your B&M on special occasions. Thankfully, she got you an automatic, not a quartz.
Bell & Ross: You think IWCs are a pale imitation of a Boeing 767 flight instrument. You want to wear the entire flight panel.
Blancpain: Let’s be real, unless you're Vladimir Putin, the only watch you wear from this brand is the Fifty Fathoms - and it never goes near water.
Bovet: You are the president of an esteemed French bank, say, Société Générale. While browsing the shops near your villa in Nice, you came across a lovely Fleurier, which you bought without even considering a discount. So much less common than a Breguet.
Breitling: You aspire to be a pilot. You think the Breitling Emergency is the coolest watch ever made. You are unfamiliar with the term “in-house”.
Bremont: You are an Anglophile. After purchasing two models from the boutique, you are hoping one day to be invited to a Townhouse event. You are either blissfully unaware, or painfully so, of the concept of “resale value”. Though you publicly state it doesn’t matter, you are secretly jealous that Tudor is moving in-house. Even you are somewhat embarrassed by their origin story.
Breguet: You properly pronounce “Tourbillon”. You cringe when others refer to dial markings as mere “Arabic numerals”. You wish more people understood the history of horology. Your dream is to visit Paris.
Bulova: You are either a middle-aged man obsessively collecting the 1970's Accutrons of your youth, or you picked this up from the jewelry counter at Kohl's - with a coupon.
Burberry: You are either a skinny-tie wearing American office drone, or a Chav named Derek living in Slough. In either scenario, you believe the checkmark on the dial exudes class.
BVLGARI - Men's: You wanted a watch that looked like a Diesel, but more expensive.
BVLGARI - Women's: While you already have a diamond Datejust, you wanted something a little flashier to go with your evening-wear Chanel handbag. You delight in correcting others when they attempt to read the name on the dial. Even watch geeks will admit your Serpanti is kind of cool.
Carl F. Bucherer: You are a Chinese national who has never visited the United States. Your uncle’s textile factory has vaunted your family into the upper-middle classes, and it is expected that you project a certain image to distinguish yourself from the commoners. The saleswoman assured you that your Manero is for “a man of distinction” and will fit perfectly with your other internationally recognized luxury item, your cherry-red Buick GL8 Sedan.
Cartier: You like beautiful things, and are possibly a woman.
Casio: In school, your glasses were held together with Scotchtape, and the mechanical pencil in your shirt-front pocket always jammed, but your trusty Calculator Watch never failed. You are shocked that others are copying your look ironically.
Certina: You are the 33-year old manager of a Coop supermarket outside of Davos, Switzerland. While you believe fancy watches are for tourists, your Powermatic was listed “Uhren 50% Rabatt!” and looks pretty sweet.
Chanel: When you awake, you reach for your bottle of No. 5 - sprayed at the pulse points - before you check your phone. You love your ceramic white J12 for the way it effortlessly graces most of your outfits. You spend most days at work surreptitiously surfing TheRealReal, desperately trying to emulate your idol, Coco, on the cheap. Secretly, you wish the whole Nazi collaborator thing was just an ugly rumor.
Chopard: When you got engaged, you insisted on a “Chopard for Love” ring in a platinum setting. While your finance-bro fiancee couldn’t be there on the special day, he gave you a Happy Diamonds to go with it on your three-year anniversary. He will marry you. Eventually. Right?
Christiaan Van Der Klaauw: You are an unusually successful astrophysicist with a NY Times bestselling book. You wear you hair at a rakish angle, and unabashedly use the phase “a priori” in everyday conversation. You actually understand the concept of Sideral time. You first heard of the brand from the oligarch who endowed your research chair using laundered Petro dollars.
Christopher Ward: You can’t afford to spend more than $1K on a watch. You’ve come to actually love your Trident. Secretly, you think the new logo makes your watch look like a toy.
Citizen: You work for NASA, and your job is to set the clocks on the GPS satellites.
Concord: The year is 1986. While all the other middle-managers are celebrating their promotions with Trans Ams, women, or Rolexs, you chose the Concord Saratoga. Placing the leftover cash into Lincoln Savings and Loan bonds and a custom suit with serious shoulder pads, you choose to invest in things that last.
Corum: You spend most days at your estate's dock, "working" on your teak-decked Sloop, so much so that your wife - for whose birthday you bought a subscription to Sail magazine - calls your Coxswain when she wishes to find you. You exclusively wear Sperry’s and have been known to sport a racing flag tie unironically. You know nothing about watches.
Cuervo y Sobrinos: You are a third generation Cuban-American named Jorge living in Buena Vista, Miami. You drink Bacardi Gold as you grill pulled pork at cookouts and play dominos with your Abuelo. You chose your Rubusto to honor your family, culture, and heritage. Secretly, you’re terrified that someone might find out your legal name is George - and that you speak no Spanish.
Damasko: You earnestly believe that form must always follow function. You lament the paucity of good quality, acid-resistant PVD watches on the market. As you wear steel-toed hiking boots daily, you wouldn’t be caught dead handling, much less wearing, a gold dress watch.
Daniel Wellington: You are a millennial who is into latte art. You think Humphrey Bogart looked so cool in old movies with his suit and trench coat. You are unaware of the terms "quartz" or "automatic". If you're honest, you had a hard time choosing your watch, as they all look the same on the website. You pay $5 a pop at the jewelry store to change Nato straps, which you recently got into.
De Bethune: You successfully sold your internet company - with no revenue, let alone income - for $450 million dollars. You love technology, shiny things, and the color blue. You have a life-size replica of the Star Trek: The Next Generation bridge in your Rec room.
Diesel: You are either a teenager with vociferous opinions on the PC vs. Console gaming wars, or a playboy far too busy dating multiple women simultaneously to know what that is.
Dornblüth & Sohn: You own a grandfather clock, which you wind daily. Your have the same opinion on Roman numerals as on your ex-wife - cluttered, fussy, and confusing. You drive a vintage BMW - in your opinion, the epitome of a functional automobile - before the snazzy marketing made them much too flashy.
Ebel: Fresh out of law school, you just got your first associate-level job at a big firm. You wanted something pretty but professional to wear to work. You are confused as to why on dates, men excitedly ask to see your watch, then get close, look disappointed, and say ”oh…an Ebel...”.
Edox/Mido: You are a 23 year old German man, fresh out of the University of Heidelberg. Your starter job and soon to be expiring student benefits did not allow you to stretch for a Longines. The salesman’s face visibly fell when you walked through his door.
Eterna: Your KonTiki was a Jomashop 75% off gamble. You have since become a fanboy, going so far as to grow a beard and voraciously reading Thor Heyerdahl's memoirs. You will order a nature survival kit, tent, and water purification pills online before you lose all interest and snuggle back up to your PS4.
Fortis: You are a young German man living in Düsseldorf. You saved up quite a few paychecks at your Aldi managerial job to afford your Stratoliner. You wish the SR-71 Blackbird was still around. You have re-watched Top Gun 23 times, while imagining that your handle would be “The Baron”. If you ever actually visited an American airbase, you would be disgusted with the wastefulness and vow never to return.
Fossil: You are a 25 year old man at your first job. Your workplace has open-plan offices and “Sunday Fundays”. You carefully buckle up your leather watch before dates, and make sure it shows under your cuff.
Franck Muller: You are a jocular pediatrician, or possibly, a professional clown. You have a weakness for Tonneau cases and Art Deco numerals.
Frederique Constant: You could not afford a JLC Master Ultra Thin Moon, so you got this instead. You are unsuccessfully trying to make a 42mm dress watch work for your wrist. You were shocked, and a little disappointed, when you learned that the company was founded in 1988.
Garmin: You are subscribed to Men's Health and GQ. Before leaving for work, you lace up your running sneakers and strap on your Forerunner in case you can get a quick run in on the way home. This never happens. Your Bowflex sits quietly in your garage, gleaming and untouched.
Ginault: You spent $1,449 on a Rolex Submariner Homage. You while away countless man-hours on the forums, defending the brand from baseless accusations. You will ultimately purchase Hulk, Pepsi, and Daytona homages from other brands, and with time, will have spent more on replicas than the cost of the real thing.
Girard-Perregaux: You swear that the Laureato is “the next Overseas”, and that the Golden Bridges are an under appreciated masterpiece. You purposely chose a 1966 over a JLC Master Ultra Thin. Secretly, you wonder if you made a mistake.
Glashütte Original: You, overall, cannot afford a Lange.
Glycine: You’ve outgrown the flashy Invicta's of your youth, but are still hesitant to go smaller than 46mm in a watch. Secretly, the vaguely military associations of your Combat Sub mildly arouse you. If he were alive to see it, Eugène Meylan would throw an egg at your face.
Glycine - Vintage: You live in an old age home, with your WWII Purple Heart and military induction papers tucked away discreetly in a corner. You still wear the Airman which you bought on the base at Ramstein in ’49. Sadly, your grandson only visits to eye it covetously.
Graham: You couldn’t resist a watch whose crown is easily confused with a grenade’s firing pin. Your Volkswagen Golf has vanity plates and a silkscreened pin-up on the rear window. You have a shrine to your grandfather in your room, a WWII vet with the British Expeditionary Force, though he only got to flee Dunkirk. Even you suspect the “Watchmakers Since 1659” claim is crap.
Grand Seiko: You think a Spring Drive is the coolest thing since sliced bread. You frequently photograph your Cocktail Time with your Sony camera or, in a pinch, your latest generation iPhone. You have bookmarked Youtube videos of the Grand Seiko factory - in case you meet someone with a Swiss made watch who needs a little convincing. You wish Seiko would do marketing better.
Grönefeld: While trained at RADA, you have peaked as a recognizable, but under-appreciated Hollywood actor. You have impeccable taste and a thing for Salmon dials. You wanted something dressier than your sponsored but boring Omega to wear to the Met Gala.
G-Shock: You are a junior in college, or an emergency room physician. You delight in taking your G-Shock to watch meet-ups, to the horror of the traditionalists. You recently took up mountain biking just to post Instagram photos of your watch on the trails.
H. Moser & Cie: You have a mischievous sense of humor, and in high school, were known to film pranks you pulled on your friends. You have an insatiable weakness for fume dials. While you can’t quite put your finger on it, you suspect the brand will be worth a lot in coming years - or so you tell anyone who will listen. Deep down, you are terrified your Endeavor might just be a passing fad.
Hamilton: You recently graduated college. You spent hours on the watch forums, debating between this or a Longines. You finally settled on the Jazzmaster/Khaki, though the salesman couldn't tell you anything about it. The highlight of your life was when a random woman on a date said, “nice watch”. You almost married her.
Hautlence: You have a game room in your Park Avenue, per-war classic six filled with pinball machines. You wear pink glasses, to let your underlings at your Goldman Sachs job know that you can be “cool” too. You are not.
Hermes: You are either a perfumer living in the Montmarte district of Paris, or an American woman with an unerringly good fashion sense.
Hublot: You are, simply, wrong.
HYT: You are a successful electrical engineer with lucrative patents to your name, or an internet startup founder that actually solved and monetized a hard problem in computer science. You love nothing more than to hand your H1.0 over to curious passerby, while pontificating upon the intricacies of fluid dynamics.
Invicta - Type 1: You are a non-watch geek dad in a suburban shopping mall. You wanted to get "something nice" for yourself. You find sub 46mm watches "too girly". You enjoy explaining to others, with wide-eyed delight, how your watch is powered by "moving your arm".
Invicta - Type 2: You are in high school, without a summer job. You think the Rolex Submariner is the perfect modern, go anywhere, do anything watch. You feel ostracized on the watch forums, but can’t help but smile when you see your Pro Diver on your wrist.
IWC: You are openly not a pilot, but enjoy having an altimeter strapped to your wrist.
Jacob & Co: You are a formerly successful, now destitute rapper. You pawned this watch at a significant loss.
Jaeger-LeCoultre: You exclusively dress in suits, except on bank holidays, when you wear chinos and your Reverso. You are frequently found on watch forums extolling “the watchmaker's watchmaker” virtues. You think 100M of waterproofing is all anyone should ever need. Your will instructs your heirs to bury you with your Atmos clock, as they surely won’t appreciate it. You hope one day to be able to roll your R’s like the guy in the boutique.
Jaquet Droz: You are either a well diversified collector, or an Arabian Shiek from an oil rich kingdom. If the latter, your other watch is a Rolex Daytona Rainbow with diamond bezel.
Johan Eric: You googled “watch” on Amazon and this is the first thing you found with Prime shipping. In general, you are decidedly not picky, both in watches and in life.
JS Watch Co: While you used to have a very generous circle of friends, your incessant droning on about your trip to Iceland and the sweet Frisland you scored there soured even your most steadfast companions. You now spend most days online, nostalgically looking at Tripadvisor reviews for restaurants in Reykjavik, or re-watching the Lord of the Rings for the twelfth time.
Junghans: You were just hired by a big design firm, but on a starter salary. You visit your local art museum on “free admission weekends”, and hang around free gallery shows. You have a small tattoo on your right bicep. You hope to upgrade to a Nomos one day.
Klasse14: You favorite Instagram influencer subtly bombarded you with sponsored posts showcasing the brand. You hope your Miss Volare will one day star in your own epic selfie in front of the Eiffel Tower.
Kobold: Your “keeper” test is if she’ll watch all six seasons of the Sopranos with you. Your most treasured possession is an autographed napkin from the late, great, James Gandolfini. Since his passing, your interest in the brand has cooled, and secretly, you worry that your Spirit of America is just a more expensive Shinola.
Laco: As you gaze admiringly at the Saarbrücken on your wrist, you find yourself wondering: Was Hitler really that bad?
Lip: You are a Frenchman originally from Toulouse. You work for the Bureau of Weights and Measurements, converting metric measurements to Napoleonic Mesures Usuelles for those still living in the First Republic. While you would prefer to wear an Omega, you can only imagine the shocked “Non!” That would emanate from the mustachioed lips of your supervisor, Gaspard, upon seeing it, and you’d rather avoid an employee tribunal. You’d win, but it’s a hassle.
Longines: You just got your first job out of college. You are looking for something classy and professional to go along with your first real suit. You will one day own a JLC.
Lorus: You are a street-peddler living in Hyderabad. You cannot afford a Seiko 5, but not for any reason that would be remotely funny.
Luminox: You constantly talk about “doing an Ironman”. You sleep in a Naval Academy t-shirt and proudly fly the “thin blue line" US flag on your porch. You make vague allusions to former service when asked, but secretly, you were only a mall cop in the 90’s.
Manufacture Royale: Liberace would like to know where you got your watch.
Marathon: You are a former United States Marine, 3rd Battalion, 6th. You wore this watch on patrol in Kandahar, where your buddy scratched his initials on the case back. This is either a faithful re-telling, or you have entirely imagined the above scenario for color at your current office job.
Maurice Lacroix: The year is 1995. Bill Clinton is president of an economically resurgent USA. You just got promoted to Assistant to the Regional Department President of your longtime employer, IBM. Having recently heard about the value of a “Fine Swiss Watch”, you decided to purchase your Pontos after seeing an ad for it in the pages of Sports Illustrated. It feels right.
MB&F: You are an angel investor in various internet start-ups. You believe in “thinking different” and “changing the world”. Having gone through the various Pateks, Langes, and Journes that befit your station, you now find pretty much every other watch brand ridiculously boring. You wear an Apple watch concurrently on your other wrist.
MeisterSinger: You purposefully wear subtly mismatched socks with your corduroys. You carry your daily possessions in a fanny pack, considering it more practical than a messenger bag. You are perpetually 10-15 minutes late to all your appointments. Secretly, you have a thing for amputee girls.
Michael Kors: You are a 16-33 year old woman. Your house is filled with rose-gold colored accessories. You shop at Macy’s, where you purchased this watch to match your handbag. In the watch world, you are actually one of the sane ones.
Mondaine: You either have a collection of hair mousses to apply based on the weather, or are an oddly obsessive spotter of Swiss electric trains.
Montblanc: You couldn’t afford a JLC. You have since taken to the watch forums, declaring the superiority of Minerva, stating, “it’s over for the over $5K’s”. Secretly, you also hate stacked movement complications.
Montegrappa - Chaos by Sylvestor Stallone: What the hell is wrong with you?
Moritz Grossman: You are the head of an old family manufacturing firm in Bavaria. Your frauline, Hilda, urged you to finally treat yourself and upgrade from the reliable but tired Swatch on your wrist. Feeling a Lange was too recognizable to the men on the assembly line, you chose the Benu Power reserve, but only to wear at board meetings.
Movado: You are either a 21 year old man wearing a Movado Bold at the club, or an 83 year old gentlemen wearing an original Museum piece. There is no middle ground.
Mühle Glashütte: Your evangelical zeal for the brand makes you the human embodiment of those “allow notifications?” pop-ups. You dream of becoming a mariner.
MVMT: You are a millennial who drives a motorcycle. You have a collection of leather jackets. You hope someone comments on how well your watch matches your sunglasses.
Nixon: You are a 32 year old man named either Chad or Brad living in Encinitas, California. As you spend most days on the beach surfing in your board shorts, you have a perpetual tan even in winter. You aren’t into watches, but your Base Tide was giving you good vibes from the surf-shop window, and it matches your leather Yogi bracelet perfectly.
Nomos: While you initially could not afford a Swiss made watch in art school, you are now a successful Bahaus-style architect. You have a membership to your local modern art museum. While you prefer espresso, you drink drip from a vintage Braun coffee maker. Apple “Keynote Days” are like Christmas in June.
Ochs and Junior: You sincerely collect promotional posters for modern art exhibits. You have an interesting job in either advanced engineering or product design at a well funded startup in Berlin. Somewhat obsessively, you refuse to wear any items with visible brand names. Even you can’t always tell what the hell the date is on your perpetual calendar.
Oris: You are frequently found on watch forums, starting, “Why buy an Omega when you can get virtually the same quality for half the cost?” You think the Sixty Five is exactly what your grandfather would’ve worn - if he was cooler, and not a rural school teacher from Iowa. You are secretly trying to save for a Rolex Sub, but need the cash for your PADI training.
Omega: You are intimately familiar with all 12 manned Apollo missions. You eagerly anticipate the next James Bond film. You refer to your Seamaster as “the thinking man’s Sub, with a better movement”. Bonus points if you know who George Daniels is.
Orient: You are a senior in high school. You love your Bambino, but as you know watches, you don’t claim it’s equivalent to something more expensive. You dream of winning the lottery. You are pure.
Panerai: You frequently exclaim, “What’s the point of wearing a watch if no one sees it?” You live in California, and exclusively wear short sleeves. You are unusually familiar with the Italian Navy’s WWII operations, glossing over the period 1940-1943.
Parmigiani Fleurier: You are the scion of an old, proud Italian banking family. While you of course have a few Patek’s tucked away in the vault at your Lago Maggiora villa, your father, Luca, gifted you your Tonda Tourbillon because he errantly believed it was an Italian brand “like from the old days, bene!” You don’t have the heart to correct him.
Parnis: You desire a replica Daytona, but your country’s customs force is extremely efficient at confiscating goods that violate trademarks.
Patek Philippe - Type 1: You took off from work to watch the Henry Graves Super Complication auction livestream. You think the Nautilus is overvalued, preferring the khaki green Aquanaut instead. You are possibly John Mayer, but if not, you hope one day to actually own your own Patek.
Patek Philippe - Type 2: You are a Russian oligarch. You assert that a hacking seconds “damages the movement”. Though you’ll never say so openly, you are secretly jealous of the finishing on a Lange. You feel reassured when you see one of those “For the next generation” ads.
Philippe Dufour/Laurent Ferrier/F.P. Journe: You are a Russian oligarch, but with exquisite taste.
Piaget: You claim that the Calatrava and Patrimony "smell of old man". You frequently end arguments with "yeah, but...thinest movement in the world." You cannot actually afford a Calatrava or Patrimony.
Poljot: In the old days, you were a MiG-23 fighter pilot for the Motherland. Your Poljot, along with your state-issued Volga GAZ-24 sedan, marked you as a man of importance among the proletariat. Sadly, in your current job as grocery store guard, only the old babushkas recognize your former glory. It would kill you to know that 30-year old gamers bought your watch online because they thought the Cyrillic on the dial looked cool.
Rado: You are a material scientist tenured at a prestigious university. You have no interest in watches, but could not pass up the mystery and wonder of a watch that never scratches. Everything from your pots to your pants are coated in Teflon.
Raymond Weil: Are you sure you aren’t wearing a Maurice Lacroix with Roman numerals?
RGM Watch Co: You are a 62-year old Boomer living in Pittsburgh, PA. As you are retired - with pension - from your job as a chemical engineer for US Steel, you have plenty of time to hobnob on Timezone.com. You post multiple photos of your 801-COE in various lights, to the eager approval of all twelve forums members. You can’t tell anyone, but you voted for Donald Trump.
Richard Mille: If you weren’t an American billionaire, you’d probably be buying an Invicta - with the logos removed, you surely couldn’t tell the difference. You make sure to wear your watch when interviewed by Fortune, with the sleeves of your silk Dolce & Gabana shirt rolled up.
Roger Dubuis: You are a Argentinian Striker, recently relocated to the UK with Manchester United. Stacy, your loyal WAG, got you the Excalibur after you instructed your assistant to leave notes around your Wilmslow mansion with explicit purchasing instructions. All involved acted surprised on your birthday. If you are being honest, you sometimes confuse it with your Richard Mille.
Roger W. Smith: You are the scion of a Japanese telecommunications fortune. You love discussing horology, but only online. You are that unusual combination of billionaire and introvert, perhaps due to your secret insecurity in your own abilities. You fantasize about how one day, Otuo-San will notice your Series 2, and nod approvingly at you with his tight-lipped grimace. In your own quiet way, this is how you show off.
Rolex - Sub (Ha!) Type A: ROLEX ROLEX ROLEX. YOU CAN’T BUY ANYTHING BUT A ROLEX IT’S THE ONLY THING WITH RESALE VALUE. HAVE YOU SEEN MY TWO-TONE SUB WITH THE CYCLOPS? I LIKE IT ‘CAUSE IT HAS WRIST PRESENCE.
Rolex - Sub Type B: You frequently re-watch all Sean Connery Bond films, asserting that Daniel Craig is not a “real” Bond. You know the difference between the 1016 Caliber 1560 and 1016 Caliber 1570. You believe steel can stretch with minimal effort. You prefer watches with rusted dials and no date. As you frequently speak full sentences consisting solely of reference numbers, it is assumed by passerby that you work for a secretive government agency.
Rolex - Sub Type C: You are a successful Italian-American contractor. You wear a two-tone Datejust - your only watch - which never leaves your wrist. On vacation at the resort in Cabo, you make sure your wrist is angled properly so the waiter can see it when taking your order.
Rolex - Sub Type D: When you found out your wife was pregnant, you rushed to purchase a "birth year" Sub. Your son will not get to wear it until you are dead.
Rolex - Sub Type E: You are a researcher who spends all day next to an MRI machine. While you never wore a watch before, you found yourself suddenly desperate for one after seeing an eerily personalized ad for the Millgauss pop up on Facebook. After the initial triumphant forum pic, the novelty wore off, and most days you just check the wall clock.
Romain Jerome: You have no compunctions wearing a watch made from the Titanic. You have more money than sense.
Scuderia Ferrari: Your friends know not to utter the word “Lamborghini” for fear of starting a rant. Your firstborn son is named Enzo. Your Pilota watch, Ferarri ball-cap, keychain, and limited edition Scuderia Ferrari for Ray-Ban aviators all proudly accompany you as you step into your 2004 Honda Civic.
Seagull: It took quite a few shifts at the Dairy Queen, but you finally got your Ocean Star. You feel like you need a dress piece too, but are unsure when you’d ever wear it. One day, with a JLC on your wrist, you will look back upon this time wistfully.
Seiko: You are starting college this Fall. You spend most days on watch forums, hoping to find newbies asking for help so that you can steer them your way. You think the Seiko 5 is the best value per dollar in horology. Deep down, you know that if you ever won the lottery, you’d trash them all for a stable of platinum Langes.
Sekonda: On the way to a job interview as a Transport of London station cleaner, you decide a watch will make you look more reliable. You grab the cheapest Sekonda Classic from Mr. Singh’s newsstand, and make sure to check it copiously during your interview. You are surprised when you do not get the job. Changing the dead battery three days later, you are puzzled by the Cyrlic writing inside the case.
Shinola: You are a Clinton, or an oddly proud Detroit native. You think the “Made in the USA” controversy was a hit job egged on by Hodinkee. You have average sized wrists, but think they are larger than they really are. You have a weakness for wire lugs.
Sinn: You are subscribed to the WatchBuys newsletter. You cannot afford an IWC. You post numerous photos of your Sinn 356 Flieger, in a vain attempt to reassure yourself that the acrylic crystal was the right choice.
Skagen: You drive a used but well loved Volvo. While you know nothing about watches, you found it cumbersome to check your dumb phone for the time, and began your search for something practical but affordable. As you know the quickest shortcut to get to the cafeteria at your local IKEA - where you get the meatballs weekly - an ostensibly Danish watch held some appeal. You are unaware that Denmark and Sweden are different countries.
Speake-Marin: ”A touch loud? What do you mean, leopard print pants with a leather jacket is loud?”
Squale: You cannot afford a Rolex Submariner.
Steinhart: You could not afford a Rolex or IWC. While you truly enjoy wearing your Hulk Sub homage, deep-down, you question where the line is between imitation and theft.
Stowa: You enjoy having an altimeter strapped to your wrist, but cannot afford an IWC. You would love to mention its WWII history, but are unsure how to do so without appearing insensitive.
Stührling: American Airlines flight 1257, direct to Dallas, seat 48B. Two hours in, You saw the Depthmaster in the pages of SkyMall and knew you couldn't pass it up.
Swatch: You are a child in elementary school, or a successful, established artist. You love color. You have a watch collection, but they are all Swatches. You wish you could buy another one of the Irony whose crystal cracked when you dropped it on your kitchen floor.
Swiss Legend: You could’ve bought the Esq. brand chrono - with the same Chinese Quartz movement - for $139, but then it would’t say “Swiss” on the dial, would it?
Tag Heuer: Your first “real” watch was a Link, which you initially saw in the pages of Golf Digest/Tennis Magazine. For the longest time, you had a crush on Maria Sharapova. The chip on your shoulder is slightly lessened when you see photos of vintage Carreras online.
Timex: You are a senior citizen, or an aspiring US presidential candidate. In either case, your grandson is suddenly asking to borrow your watch.
Tissot: You just got your first job out of college, but it pays less than the Longines fellow. You appreciate either classic or ridiculously bold design. After a long career, you will one day own a Rolex.
Triwa: You are a full-time Instagram influencer. Perhaps one day, you will regret the purchase of your Donald Trump “Comb Over” watch - but not today.
Tudor: You assert that the Black Bay 58 is what Rolex “used to be”. You take pride in the quality of the bezel on your Pelagos. You either never will admit, or say all the time, that you wish you had a Rolex.
Tutima Glashütte:As the only way to acquire a Lange would be to sell a kidney, you eagerly sought out an alternative still made in your mythical Glashütte. You fancy yourself a sportsman, though this is usually only expressed by the bench press. While you wear your Grand Flieger daily, if pressed, you could not articulate why, exactly, your watch had to be German.
Ulysse Nardin - Type 1: What exactly do you think you are, some kind of enthusiast?
Ulysse Nardin - Type 2: As soon as you saw the Minute Repeater Voyeur - with a lifelike orgy scene on the dial, complete with moving “parts” - you knew you needed that kind of artistry in your life.
Urban Jurgënsen: Was your watch produced by the Swedish Chef?
Vacheron Constantin: You think a Calatrava is an ugly duckling compared to the all-encompassing beauty of a Patrimony. You refer to the period from 1987 - 1996 as “the Dark Times”. You wish resale value were higher, but blame Patek fanboys.
Various Microbrands: You are subscribed to the “Affordable Watches” forum on WatchUSeek. You have a Google Alert on Kickstarter so you don’t miss the latest limited release. You are saving for a vintage Rolex, which increasingly appears out of reach. You are filled with a mixture of delight and despair when someone asks, "is that a Rolex?" of your Mk II Nassua. You have a love/hate relationship with Jason Lim of Halios.
Various Vintage: You are Fred Savage. You think anything over 36mm is garish. While you wear your vintage Omega (original dial, of course) all the time, you have been known to slip on your modern Rolex Sub for the beach. You spend your weekends at estate sales, dreaming of coming across an unrecognized Patek for $150, which you bargain down to a clean $100.
Victorinox: After your brief fling with Chinese watches, you decided it was time to step up to Swiss made. You wear your Fieldforce proudly in Econ 101, desperately hoping Brittany will notice it. Plus, you already had the matching backpack.
Vostok: You are a value-oriented teen gamer, or an elderly Russian pensioner. You have 9 inch wrists.
Zenith: You make half-hour long YouTube videos consisting of you chanting into the camera, “El Primero. El Primero. First Automatic. El Primero.“ You scoff at the JLC 751A as a rushed copy. Deep down, you believe the world is unjust, and fear your brand will never be properly recognized.
Zodiac/Doxa: You are a certified Master Scuba Diver Trainer. You smile indulgently at your wealthy tourist clients, who have Submariners and Fifty Fathoms on their wrist. After you've been tipped, you love nothing better than to hand over your SeaWolf/Shark for inspection, casually stating "This baby's been down to 250 feet, no problems. How about yours?"
What Your Watch Brand Says About You
A. Lange & Söhne: You work in investments, but nowhere as common as Wall Street. You have been known to casually ask to compare balance bridges with Patek owners.
Alpina: You are subscribed to Outside magazine, and can quote passages from Krakauer’s “Into the Wild” by by heart. You own a pair of serious hiking boots, but they languish in your closet, unworn and unmuddied. You could not afford a Rolex Explorer. If pressed, you would not be able to articulate why anyone would actually need an “Alpinist” watch.
Audemars Piguet: You are a rapper, and you think the brand name is “Royal Oak”.
Apple Watch: You are either a secretary or nine-figure earning CEO at a Fortune 500 company. You use your Apple Watch Series 4 to track both your weekly jogs and chicken roasts. You are vaguely familiar with the idea that other, “old-fashioned” watches exist, but assume they will soon disappear once they are no longer repaired by their manufacturers.
Azimuth: Your two most treasured possessions are an autographed photo of Leonard Nimoy and a replica copy of the Voyager probe Golden Record. You can only dream of owning an MB&F.
Ball: As you walk through your LED lit hallway, down the stairs illuminated by motion sensing flood lamps, and towards your basement model train table outfitted with 3000 Lumen overhead halogen bulbs, you’re gladly reassured by your watch's Tritium lume - for the brief second it takes to find the switch.
Balticus: You are either a metrosexual 20-something working in Warsaw, or a teenage boy living in rural Estonia. You don’t get to play with your Overwatch team as much as you’d like due to the time difference. You dream of moving to Berlin or New York.
Baume et Mercier: You were touched when your wife got you a Clifton for your wedding. You have since gotten a Rolex, but wear your B&M on special occasions. Thankfully, she got you an automatic, not a quartz.
Bell & Ross: You think IWCs are a pale imitation of a Boeing 767 flight instrument. You want to wear the entire flight panel.
Blancpain: Let’s be real, unless you're Vladimir Putin, the only watch you wear from this brand is the Fifty Fathoms - and it never goes near water.
Bovet: You are the president of an esteemed French bank, say, Société Générale. While browsing the shops near your villa in Nice, you came across a lovely Fleurier, which you bought without even considering a discount. So much less common than a Breguet.
Breitling: You aspire to be a pilot. You think the Breitling Emergency is the coolest watch ever made. You are unfamiliar with the term “in-house”.
Bremont: You are an Anglophile. After purchasing two models from the boutique, you are hoping one day to be invited to a Townhouse event. You are either blissfully unaware, or painfully so, of the concept of “resale value”. Though you publicly state it doesn’t matter, you are secretly jealous that Tudor is moving in-house. Even you are somewhat embarrassed by their origin story.
Breguet: You properly pronounce “Tourbillon”. You cringe when others refer to dial markings as mere “Arabic numerals”. You wish more people understood the history of horology. Your dream is to visit Paris.
Bulova: You are either a middle-aged man obsessively collecting the 1970's Accutrons of your youth, or you picked this up from the jewelry counter at Kohl's - with a coupon.
Burberry: You are either a skinny-tie wearing American office drone, or a Chav named Derek living in Slough. In either scenario, you believe the checkmark on the dial exudes class.
BVLGARI - Men's: You wanted a watch that looked like a Diesel, but more expensive.
BVLGARI - Women's: While you already have a diamond Datejust, you wanted something a little flashier to go with your evening-wear Chanel handbag. You delight in correcting others when they attempt to read the name on the dial. Even watch geeks will admit your Serpanti is kind of cool.
Carl F. Bucherer: You are a Chinese national who has never visited the United States. Your uncle’s textile factory has vaunted your family into the upper-middle classes, and it is expected that you project a certain image to distinguish yourself from the commoners. The saleswoman assured you that your Manero is for “a man of distinction” and will fit perfectly with your other internationally recognized luxury item, your cherry-red Buick GL8 Sedan.
Cartier: You like beautiful things, and are possibly a woman.
Casio: In school, your glasses were held together with Scotchtape, and the mechanical pencil in your shirt-front pocket always jammed, but your trusty Calculator Watch never failed. You are shocked that others are copying your look ironically.
Certina: You are the 33-year old manager of a Coop supermarket outside of Davos, Switzerland. While you believe fancy watches are for tourists, your Powermatic was listed “Uhren 50% Rabatt!” and looks pretty sweet.
Chanel: When you awake, you reach for your bottle of No. 5 - sprayed at the pulse points - before you check your phone. You love your ceramic white J12 for the way it effortlessly graces most of your outfits. You spend most days at work surreptitiously surfing TheRealReal, desperately trying to emulate your idol, Coco, on the cheap. Secretly, you wish the whole Nazi collaborator thing was just an ugly rumor.
Chopard: When you got engaged, you insisted on a “Chopard for Love” ring in a platinum setting. While your finance-bro fiancee couldn’t be there on the special day, he gave you a Happy Diamonds to go with it on your three-year anniversary. He will marry you. Eventually. Right?
Christiaan Van Der Klaauw: You are an unusually successful astrophysicist with a NY Times bestselling book. You wear you hair at a rakish angle, and unabashedly use the phase “a priori” in everyday conversation. You actually understand the concept of Sideral time. You first heard of the brand from the oligarch who endowed your research chair using laundered Petro dollars.
Christopher Ward: You can’t afford to spend more than $1K on a watch. You’ve come to actually love your Trident. Secretly, you think the new logo makes your watch look like a toy.
Citizen: You work for NASA, and your job is to set the clocks on the GPS satellites.
Concord: The year is 1986. While all the other middle-managers are celebrating their promotions with Trans Ams, women, or Rolexs, you chose the Concord Saratoga. Placing the leftover cash into Lincoln Savings and Loan bonds and a custom suit with serious shoulder pads, you choose to invest in things that last.
Corum: You spend most days at your estate's dock, "working" on your teak-decked Sloop, so much so that your wife - for whose birthday you bought a subscription to Sail magazine - calls your Coxswain when she wishes to find you. You exclusively wear Sperry’s and have been known to sport a racing flag tie unironically. You know nothing about watches.
Cuervo y Sobrinos: You are a third generation Cuban-American named Jorge living in Buena Vista, Miami. You drink Bacardi Gold as you grill pulled pork at cookouts and play dominos with your Abuelo. You chose your Rubusto to honor your family, culture, and heritage. Secretly, you’re terrified that someone might find out your legal name is George - and that you speak no Spanish.
Damasko: You earnestly believe that form must always follow function. You lament the paucity of good quality, acid-resistant PVD watches on the market. As you wear steel-toed hiking boots daily, you wouldn’t be caught dead handling, much less wearing, a gold dress watch.
Daniel Wellington: You are a millennial who is into latte art. You think Humphrey Bogart looked so cool in old movies with his suit and trench coat. You are unaware of the terms "quartz" or "automatic". If you're honest, you had a hard time choosing your watch, as they all look the same on the website. You pay $5 a pop at the jewelry store to change Nato straps, which you recently got into.
De Bethune: You successfully sold your internet company - with no revenue, let alone income - for $450 million dollars. You love technology, shiny things, and the color blue. You have a life-size replica of the Star Trek: The Next Generation bridge in your Rec room.
Diesel: You are either a teenager with vociferous opinions on the PC vs. Console gaming wars, or a playboy far too busy dating multiple women simultaneously to know what that is.
Dornblüth & Sohn: You own a grandfather clock, which you wind daily. Your have the same opinion on Roman numerals as on your ex-wife - cluttered, fussy, and confusing. You drive a vintage BMW - in your opinion, the epitome of a functional automobile - before the snazzy marketing made them much too flashy.
Ebel: Fresh out of law school, you just got your first associate-level job at a big firm. You wanted something pretty but professional to wear to work. You are confused as to why on dates, men excitedly ask to see your watch, then get close, look disappointed, and say ”oh…an Ebel...”.
Edox/Mido: You are a 23 year old German man, fresh out of the University of Heidelberg. Your starter job and soon to be expiring student benefits did not allow you to stretch for a Longines. The salesman’s face visibly fell when you walked through his door.
Eterna: Your KonTiki was a Jomashop 75% off gamble. You have since become a fanboy, going so far as to grow a beard and voraciously reading Thor Heyerdahl's memoirs. You will order a nature survival kit, tent, and water purification pills online before you lose all interest and snuggle back up to your PS4.
Fortis: You are a young German man living in Düsseldorf. You saved up quite a few paychecks at your Aldi managerial job to afford your Stratoliner. You wish the SR-71 Blackbird was still around. You have re-watched Top Gun 23 times, while imagining that your handle would be “The Baron”. If you ever actually visited an American airbase, you would be disgusted with the wastefulness and vow never to return.
Fossil: You are a 25 year old man at your first job. Your workplace has open-plan offices and “Sunday Fundays”. You carefully buckle up your leather watch before dates, and make sure it shows under your cuff.
Franck Muller: You are a jocular pediatrician, or possibly, a professional clown. You have a weakness for Tonneau cases and Art Deco numerals.
Frederique Constant: You could not afford a JLC Master Ultra Thin Moon, so you got this instead. You are unsuccessfully trying to make a 42mm dress watch work for your wrist. You were shocked, and a little disappointed, when you learned that the company was founded in 1988.
Garmin: You are subscribed to Men's Health and GQ. Before leaving for work, you lace up your running sneakers and strap on your Forerunner in case you can get a quick run in on the way home. This never happens. Your Bowflex sits quietly in your garage, gleaming and untouched.
Ginault: You spent $1,449 on a Rolex Submariner Homage. You while away countless man-hours on the forums, defending the brand from baseless accusations. You will ultimately purchase Hulk, Pepsi, and Daytona homages from other brands, and with time, will have spent more on replicas than the cost of the real thing.
Girard-Perregaux: You swear that the Laureato is “the next Overseas”, and that the Golden Bridges are an under appreciated masterpiece. You purposely chose a 1966 over a JLC Master Ultra Thin. Secretly, you wonder if you made a mistake.
Glashütte Original: You, overall, cannot afford a Lange.
Glycine: You’ve outgrown the flashy Invicta's of your youth, but are still hesitant to go smaller than 46mm in a watch. Secretly, the vaguely military associations of your Combat Sub mildly arouse you. If he were alive to see it, Eugène Meylan would throw an egg at your face.
Glycine - Vintage: You live in an old age home, with your WWII Purple Heart and military induction papers tucked away discreetly in a corner. You still wear the Airman which you bought on the base at Ramstein in ’49. Sadly, your grandson only visits to eye it covetously.
Graham: You couldn’t resist a watch whose crown is easily confused with a grenade’s firing pin. Your Volkswagen Golf has vanity plates and a silkscreened pin-up on the rear window. You have a shrine to your grandfather in your room, a WWII vet with the British Expeditionary Force, though he only got to flee Dunkirk. Even you suspect the “Watchmakers Since 1659” claim is crap.
Grand Seiko: You think a Spring Drive is the coolest thing since sliced bread. You frequently photograph your Cocktail Time with your Sony camera or, in a pinch, your latest generation iPhone. You have bookmarked Youtube videos of the Grand Seiko factory - in case you meet someone with a Swiss made watch who needs a little convincing. You wish Seiko would do marketing better.
Grönefeld: While trained at RADA, you have peaked as a recognizable, but under-appreciated Hollywood actor. You have impeccable taste and a thing for Salmon dials. You wanted something dressier than your sponsored but boring Omega to wear to the Met Gala.
G-Shock: You are a junior in college, or an emergency room physician. You delight in taking your G-Shock to watch meet-ups, to the horror of the traditionalists. You recently took up mountain biking just to post Instagram photos of your watch on the trails.
H. Moser & Cie: You have a mischievous sense of humor, and in high school, were known to film pranks you pulled on your friends. You have an insatiable weakness for fume dials. While you can’t quite put your finger on it, you suspect the brand will be worth a lot in coming years - or so you tell anyone who will listen. Deep down, you are terrified your Endeavor might just be a passing fad.
Hamilton: You recently graduated college. You spent hours on the watch forums, debating between this or a Longines. You finally settled on the Jazzmaster/Khaki, though the salesman couldn't tell you anything about it. The highlight of your life was when a random woman on a date said, “nice watch”. You almost married her.
Hautlence: You have a game room in your Park Avenue, per-war classic six filled with pinball machines. You wear pink glasses, to let your underlings at your Goldman Sachs job know that you can be “cool” too. You are not.
Hermes: You are either a perfumer living in the Montmarte district of Paris, or an American woman with an unerringly good fashion sense.
Hublot: You are, simply, wrong.
HYT: You are a successful electrical engineer with lucrative patents to your name, or an internet startup founder that actually solved and monetized a hard problem in computer science. You love nothing more than to hand your H1.0 over to curious passerby, while pontificating upon the intricacies of fluid dynamics.
Invicta - Type 1: You are a non-watch geek dad in a suburban shopping mall. You wanted to get "something nice" for yourself. You find sub 46mm watches "too girly". You enjoy explaining to others, with wide-eyed delight, how your watch is powered by "moving your arm".
Invicta - Type 2: You are in high school, without a summer job. You think the Rolex Submariner is the perfect modern, go anywhere, do anything watch. You feel ostracized on the watch forums, but can’t help but smile when you see your Pro Diver on your wrist.
IWC: You are openly not a pilot, but enjoy having an altimeter strapped to your wrist.
Jacob & Co: You are a formerly successful, now destitute rapper. You pawned this watch at a significant loss.
Jaeger-LeCoultre: You exclusively dress in suits, except on bank holidays, when you wear chinos and your Reverso. You are frequently found on watch forums extolling “the watchmaker's watchmaker” virtues. You think 100M of waterproofing is all anyone should ever need. Your will instructs your heirs to bury you with your Atmos clock, as they surely won’t appreciate it. You hope one day to be able to roll your R’s like the guy in the boutique.
Jaquet Droz: You are either a well diversified collector, or an Arabian Shiek from an oil rich kingdom. If the latter, your other watch is a Rolex Daytona Rainbow with diamond bezel.
Johan Eric: You googled “watch” on Amazon and this is the first thing you found with Prime shipping. In general, you are decidedly not picky, both in watches and in life.
JS Watch Co: While you used to have a very generous circle of friends, your incessant droning on about your trip to Iceland and the sweet Frisland you scored there soured even your most steadfast companions. You now spend most days online, nostalgically looking at Tripadvisor reviews for restaurants in Reykjavik, or re-watching the Lord of the Rings for the twelfth time.
Junghans: You were just hired by a big design firm, but on a starter salary. You visit your local art museum on “free admission weekends”, and hang around free gallery shows. You have a small tattoo on your right bicep. You hope to upgrade to a Nomos one day.
Klasse14: You favorite Instagram influencer subtly bombarded you with sponsored posts showcasing the brand. You hope your Miss Volare will one day star in your own epic selfie in front of the Eiffel Tower.
Kobold: Your “keeper” test is if she’ll watch all six seasons of the Sopranos with you. Your most treasured possession is an autographed napkin from the late, great, James Gandolfini. Since his passing, your interest in the brand has cooled, and secretly, you worry that your Spirit of America is just a more expensive Shinola.
Laco: As you gaze admiringly at the Saarbrücken on your wrist, you find yourself wondering: Was Hitler really that bad?
Lip: You are a Frenchman originally from Toulouse. You work for the Bureau of Weights and Measurements, converting metric measurements to Napoleonic Mesures Usuelles for those still living in the First Republic. While you would prefer to wear an Omega, you can only imagine the shocked “Non!” That would emanate from the mustachioed lips of your supervisor, Gaspard, upon seeing it, and you’d rather avoid an employee tribunal. You’d win, but it’s a hassle.
Longines: You just got your first job out of college. You are looking for something classy and professional to go along with your first real suit. You will one day own a JLC.
Lorus: You are a street-peddler living in Hyderabad. You cannot afford a Seiko 5, but not for any reason that would be remotely funny.
Luminox: You constantly talk about “doing an Ironman”. You sleep in a Naval Academy t-shirt and proudly fly the “thin blue line" US flag on your porch. You make vague allusions to former service when asked, but secretly, you were only a mall cop in the 90’s.
Manufacture Royale: Liberace would like to know where you got your watch.
Marathon: You are a former United States Marine, 3rd Battalion, 6th. You wore this watch on patrol in Kandahar, where your buddy scratched his initials on the case back. This is either a faithful re-telling, or you have entirely imagined the above scenario for color at your current office job.
Maurice Lacroix: The year is 1995. Bill Clinton is president of an economically resurgent USA. You just got promoted to Assistant to the Regional Department President of your longtime employer, IBM. Having recently heard about the value of a “Fine Swiss Watch”, you decided to purchase your Pontos after seeing an ad for it in the pages of Sports Illustrated. It feels right.
MB&F: You are an angel investor in various internet start-ups. You believe in “thinking different” and “changing the world”. Having gone through the various Pateks, Langes, and Journes that befit your station, you now find pretty much every other watch brand ridiculously boring. You wear an Apple watch concurrently on your other wrist.
MeisterSinger: You purposefully wear subtly mismatched socks with your corduroys. You carry your daily possessions in a fanny pack, considering it more practical than a messenger bag. You are perpetually 10-15 minutes late to all your appointments. Secretly, you have a thing for amputee girls.
Michael Kors: You are a 16-33 year old woman. Your house is filled with rose-gold colored accessories. You shop at Macy’s, where you purchased this watch to match your handbag. In the watch world, you are actually one of the sane ones.
Mondaine: You either have a collection of hair mousses to apply based on the weather, or are an oddly obsessive spotter of Swiss electric trains.
Montblanc: You couldn’t afford a JLC. You have since taken to the watch forums, declaring the superiority of Minerva, stating, “it’s over for the over $5K’s”. Secretly, you also hate stacked movement complications.
Montegrappa - Chaos by Sylvestor Stallone: What the hell is wrong with you?
Moritz Grossman: You are the head of an old family manufacturing firm in Bavaria. Your frauline, Hilda, urged you to finally treat yourself and upgrade from the reliable but tired Swatch on your wrist. Feeling a Lange was too recognizable to the men on the assembly line, you chose the Benu Power reserve, but only to wear at board meetings.
Movado: You are either a 21 year old man wearing a Movado Bold at the club, or an 83 year old gentlemen wearing an original Museum piece. There is no middle ground.
Mühle Glashütte: Your evangelical zeal for the brand makes you the human embodiment of those “allow notifications?” pop-ups. You dream of becoming a mariner.
MVMT: You are a millennial who drives a motorcycle. You have a collection of leather jackets. You hope someone comments on how well your watch matches your sunglasses.
Nixon: You are a 32 year old man named either Chad or Brad living in Encinitas, California. As you spend most days on the beach surfing in your board shorts, you have a perpetual tan even in winter. You aren’t into watches, but your Base Tide was giving you good vibes from the surf-shop window, and it matches your leather Yogi bracelet perfectly.
Nomos: While you initially could not afford a Swiss made watch in art school, you are now a successful Bahaus-style architect. You have a membership to your local modern art museum. While you prefer espresso, you drink drip from a vintage Braun coffee maker. Apple “Keynote Days” are like Christmas in June.
Ochs and Junior: You sincerely collect promotional posters for modern art exhibits. You have an interesting job in either advanced engineering or product design at a well funded startup in Berlin. Somewhat obsessively, you refuse to wear any items with visible brand names. Even you can’t always tell what the hell the date is on your perpetual calendar.
Oris: You are frequently found on watch forums, starting, “Why buy an Omega when you can get virtually the same quality for half the cost?” You think the Sixty Five is exactly what your grandfather would’ve worn - if he was cooler, and not a rural school teacher from Iowa. You are secretly trying to save for a Rolex Sub, but need the cash for your PADI training.
Omega: You are intimately familiar with all 12 manned Apollo missions. You eagerly anticipate the next James Bond film. You refer to your Seamaster as “the thinking man’s Sub, with a better movement”. Bonus points if you know who George Daniels is.
Orient: You are a senior in high school. You love your Bambino, but as you know watches, you don’t claim it’s equivalent to something more expensive. You dream of winning the lottery. You are pure.
Panerai: You frequently exclaim, “What’s the point of wearing a watch if no one sees it?” You live in California, and exclusively wear short sleeves. You are unusually familiar with the Italian Navy’s WWII operations, glossing over the period 1940-1943.
Parmigiani Fleurier: You are the scion of an old, proud Italian banking family. While you of course have a few Patek’s tucked away in the vault at your Lago Maggiora villa, your father, Luca, gifted you your Tonda Tourbillon because he errantly believed it was an Italian brand “like from the old days, bene!” You don’t have the heart to correct him.
Parnis: You desire a replica Daytona, but your country’s customs force is extremely efficient at confiscating goods that violate trademarks.
Patek Philippe - Type 1: You took off from work to watch the Henry Graves Super Complication auction livestream. You think the Nautilus is overvalued, preferring the khaki green Aquanaut instead. You are possibly John Mayer, but if not, you hope one day to actually own your own Patek.
Patek Philippe - Type 2: You are a Russian oligarch. You assert that a hacking seconds “damages the movement”. Though you’ll never say so openly, you are secretly jealous of the finishing on a Lange. You feel reassured when you see one of those “For the next generation” ads.
Philippe Dufour/Laurent Ferrier/F.P. Journe: You are a Russian oligarch, but with exquisite taste.
Piaget: You claim that the Calatrava and Patrimony "smell of old man". You frequently end arguments with "yeah, but...thinest movement in the world." You cannot actually afford a Calatrava or Patrimony.
Poljot: In the old days, you were a MiG-23 fighter pilot for the Motherland. Your Poljot, along with your state-issued Volga GAZ-24 sedan, marked you as a man of importance among the proletariat. Sadly, in your current job as grocery store guard, only the old babushkas recognize your former glory. It would kill you to know that 30-year old gamers bought your watch online because they thought the Cyrillic on the dial looked cool.
Rado: You are a material scientist tenured at a prestigious university. You have no interest in watches, but could not pass up the mystery and wonder of a watch that never scratches. Everything from your pots to your pants are coated in Teflon.
Raymond Weil: Are you sure you aren’t wearing a Maurice Lacroix with Roman numerals?
RGM Watch Co: You are a 62-year old Boomer living in Pittsburgh, PA. As you are retired - with pension - from your job as a chemical engineer for US Steel, you have plenty of time to hobnob on Timezone.com. You post multiple photos of your 801-COE in various lights, to the eager approval of all twelve forums members. You can’t tell anyone, but you voted for Donald Trump.
Richard Mille: If you weren’t an American billionaire, you’d probably be buying an Invicta - with the logos removed, you surely couldn’t tell the difference. You make sure to wear your watch when interviewed by Fortune, with the sleeves of your silk Dolce & Gabana shirt rolled up.
Roger Dubuis: You are a Argentinian Striker, recently relocated to the UK with Manchester United. Stacy, your loyal WAG, got you the Excalibur after you instructed your assistant to leave notes around your Wilmslow mansion with explicit purchasing instructions. All involved acted surprised on your birthday. If you are being honest, you sometimes confuse it with your Richard Mille.
Roger W. Smith: You are the scion of a Japanese telecommunications fortune. You love discussing horology, but only online. You are that unusual combination of billionaire and introvert, perhaps due to your secret insecurity in your own abilities. You fantasize about how one day, Otuo-San will notice your Series 2, and nod approvingly at you with his tight-lipped grimace. In your own quiet way, this is how you show off.
Rolex - Sub (Ha!) Type A: ROLEX ROLEX ROLEX. YOU CAN’T BUY ANYTHING BUT A ROLEX IT’S THE ONLY THING WITH RESALE VALUE. HAVE YOU SEEN MY TWO-TONE SUB WITH THE CYCLOPS? I LIKE IT ‘CAUSE IT HAS WRIST PRESENCE.
Rolex - Sub Type B: You frequently re-watch all Sean Connery Bond films, asserting that Daniel Craig is not a “real” Bond. You know the difference between the 1016 Caliber 1560 and 1016 Caliber 1570. You believe steel can stretch with minimal effort. You prefer watches with rusted dials and no date. As you frequently speak full sentences consisting solely of reference numbers, it is assumed by passerby that you work for a secretive government agency.
Rolex - Sub Type C: You are a successful Italian-American contractor. You wear a two-tone Datejust - your only watch - which never leaves your wrist. On vacation at the resort in Cabo, you make sure your wrist is angled properly so the waiter can see it when taking your order.
Rolex - Sub Type D: When you found out your wife was pregnant, you rushed to purchase a "birth year" Sub. Your son will not get to wear it until you are dead.
Rolex - Sub Type E: You are a researcher who spends all day next to an MRI machine. While you never wore a watch before, you found yourself suddenly desperate for one after seeing an eerily personalized ad for the Millgauss pop up on Facebook. After the initial triumphant forum pic, the novelty wore off, and most days you just check the wall clock.
Romain Jerome: You have no compunctions wearing a watch made from the Titanic. You have more money than sense.
Scuderia Ferrari: Your friends know not to utter the word “Lamborghini” for fear of starting a rant. Your firstborn son is named Enzo. Your Pilota watch, Ferarri ball-cap, keychain, and limited edition Scuderia Ferrari for Ray-Ban aviators all proudly accompany you as you step into your 2004 Honda Civic.
Seagull: It took quite a few shifts at the Dairy Queen, but you finally got your Ocean Star. You feel like you need a dress piece too, but are unsure when you’d ever wear it. One day, with a JLC on your wrist, you will look back upon this time wistfully.
Seiko: You are starting college this Fall. You spend most days on watch forums, hoping to find newbies asking for help so that you can steer them your way. You think the Seiko 5 is the best value per dollar in horology. Deep down, you know that if you ever won the lottery, you’d trash them all for a stable of platinum Langes.
Sekonda: On the way to a job interview as a Transport of London station cleaner, you decide a watch will make you look more reliable. You grab the cheapest Sekonda Classic from Mr. Singh’s newsstand, and make sure to check it copiously during your interview. You are surprised when you do not get the job. Changing the dead battery three days later, you are puzzled by the Cyrlic writing inside the case.
Shinola: You are a Clinton, or an oddly proud Detroit native. You think the “Made in the USA” controversy was a hit job egged on by Hodinkee. You have average sized wrists, but think they are larger than they really are. You have a weakness for wire lugs.
Sinn: You are subscribed to the WatchBuys newsletter. You cannot afford an IWC. You post numerous photos of your Sinn 356 Flieger, in a vain attempt to reassure yourself that the acrylic crystal was the right choice.
Skagen: You drive a used but well loved Volvo. While you know nothing about watches, you found it cumbersome to check your dumb phone for the time, and began your search for something practical but affordable. As you know the quickest shortcut to get to the cafeteria at your local IKEA - where you get the meatballs weekly - an ostensibly Danish watch held some appeal. You are unaware that Denmark and Sweden are different countries.
Speake-Marin: ”A touch loud? What do you mean, leopard print pants with a leather jacket is loud?”
Squale: You cannot afford a Rolex Submariner.
Steinhart: You could not afford a Rolex or IWC. While you truly enjoy wearing your Hulk Sub homage, deep-down, you question where the line is between imitation and theft.
Stowa: You enjoy having an altimeter strapped to your wrist, but cannot afford an IWC. You would love to mention its WWII history, but are unsure how to do so without appearing insensitive.
Stührling: American Airlines flight 1257, direct to Dallas, seat 48B. Two hours in, You saw the Depthmaster in the pages of SkyMall and knew you couldn't pass it up.
Swatch: You are a child in elementary school, or a successful, established artist. You love color. You have a watch collection, but they are all Swatches. You wish you could buy another one of the Irony whose crystal cracked when you dropped it on your kitchen floor.
Swiss Legend: You could’ve bought the Esq. brand chrono - with the same Chinese Quartz movement - for $139, but then it would’t say “Swiss” on the dial, would it?
Tag Heuer: Your first “real” watch was a Link, which you initially saw in the pages of Golf Digest/Tennis Magazine. For the longest time, you had a crush on Maria Sharapova. The chip on your shoulder is slightly lessened when you see photos of vintage Carreras online.
Timex: You are a senior citizen, or an aspiring US presidential candidate. In either case, your grandson is suddenly asking to borrow your watch.
Tissot: You just got your first job out of college, but it pays less than the Longines fellow. You appreciate either classic or ridiculously bold design. After a long career, you will one day own a Rolex.
Triwa: You are a full-time Instagram influencer. Perhaps one day, you will regret the purchase of your Donald Trump “Comb Over” watch - but not today.
Tudor: You assert that the Black Bay 58 is what Rolex “used to be”. You take pride in the quality of the bezel on your Pelagos. You either never will admit, or say all the time, that you wish you had a Rolex.
Tutima Glashütte:As the only way to acquire a Lange would be to sell a kidney, you eagerly sought out an alternative still made in your mythical Glashütte. You fancy yourself a sportsman, though this is usually only expressed by the bench press. While you wear your Grand Flieger daily, if pressed, you could not articulate why, exactly, your watch had to be German.
Ulysse Nardin - Type 1: What exactly do you think you are, some kind of enthusiast?
Ulysse Nardin - Type 2: As soon as you saw the Minute Repeater Voyeur - with a lifelike orgy scene on the dial, complete with moving “parts” - you knew you needed that kind of artistry in your life.
Urban Jurgënsen: Was your watch produced by the Swedish Chef?
Vacheron Constantin: You think a Calatrava is an ugly duckling compared to the all-encompassing beauty of a Patrimony. You refer to the period from 1987 - 1996 as “the Dark Times”. You wish resale value were higher, but blame Patek fanboys.
Various Microbrands: You are subscribed to the “Affordable Watches” forum on WatchUSeek. You have a Google Alert on Kickstarter so you don’t miss the latest limited release. You are saving for a vintage Rolex, which increasingly appears out of reach. You are filled with a mixture of delight and despair when someone asks, "is that a Rolex?" of your Mk II Nassua. You have a love/hate relationship with Jason Lim of Halios.
Various Vintage: You are Fred Savage. You think anything over 36mm is garish. While you wear your vintage Omega (original dial, of course) all the time, you have been known to slip on your modern Rolex Sub for the beach. You spend your weekends at estate sales, dreaming of coming across an unrecognized Patek for $150, which you bargain down to a clean $100.
Victorinox: After your brief fling with Chinese watches, you decided it was time to step up to Swiss made. You wear your Fieldforce proudly in Econ 101, desperately hoping Brittany will notice it. Plus, you already had the matching backpack.
Vostok: You are a value-oriented teen gamer, or an elderly Russian pensioner. You have 9 inch wrists.
Zenith: You make half-hour long YouTube videos consisting of you chanting into the camera, “El Primero. El Primero. First Automatic. El Primero.“ You scoff at the JLC 751A as a rushed copy. Deep down, you believe the world is unjust, and fear your brand will never be properly recognized.
Zodiac/Doxa: You are a certified Master Scuba Diver Trainer. You smile indulgently at your wealthy tourist clients, who have Submariners and Fifty Fathoms on their wrist. After you've been tipped, you love nothing better than to hand over your SeaWolf/Shark for inspection, casually stating "This baby's been down to 250 feet, no problems. How about yours?"
Callahan
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