Chasing Time Volume 7: Coming of Age
My involvement with WIS forums and stalker-like following of live streams of Baselworld and SIHH had started to spin out of control. I would dream of mainsprings, balance cocks, regulators, chatons, and other such. My perspective was skewed by the barrage of available options and misguided by the wants and dislikes of other watch enthusiasts. I had been so concerned with the significance of stories behind time pieces that I forgot the most important story of them all, my own.
I am, for the most part, a simple person, I have no dreams of ownership — rather, I yearn for experiences. I also internalised my fascination with the style of certain iconic men and understood what made them iconic was their unapologetic honesty. They were confident of who they were, flaws and all. A Paul Newman would never attempt to be James Dean nor would James Dean attempt to be Marlon Brando. In similar vein, I knew I did not wish to be anybody but myself. My watches should tell my story. And every time I went back to looking at these people what cemented my hypothesis was that their style was natural but it was also very consistent.
In a world of conspicuous consumption, I was becoming a victim of my own greed. The quick demise of my individual identity at the hands of consumerism was an philosophical epidemic that our new emerging world refused to accept.
While trying to come to terms with my conflicting take on simplicity and reduction, I did go on to purchasing that Rolex Daytona that I seemingly loved and for which I sold my first Rolex, the Milgauss. It was not much longer (2 months) after I had purchased the Daytona that I had a revelation. I wanted to downsize my life completely, I wanted less but nevertheless the best.
So, this brings me to where I am today. I traded the Daytona along with my prized vintage GMT Master 1675 for what I believe to be my one nice watch to wear out, the one watch that threw me back to my Flik Flak moments, and the start of my fascination with time.
It has no complications other than the inclusion of a sub-dial with seconds. It doesn’t tell me which year I’m in nor the current phase of the lunar cycle. It does only one thing, it tells the time. It is the manual-wind Adolf Lange & Sohne Saxonia. The Saxonia now accompanies two other watches in my rotation, the Rolex GMT Master II BLNR for travel, play, and general use, and the Grand Seiko Quartz for workdays. This seems to be the ideal balance and I hope that this will act as the culmination of my journey.
But the mischievous Patek Philippe 5711 has been whispering evil thoughts in my ears.
Read Volume 6, here.
Vikram Ramchandani is father to a beautiful girl and husband to an even more beautiful girl. Canadian but really Indian. Left university and home at 21 and became an investment banker for many unhappy people and is now an entrepreneur who employs many happy people. Is full katti with the current education system for mutating children into adults.