I recently had the single worst dinner party conversation known to man about watches. I was sitting next to some Wall Street guy—I use that term lovingly; he definitely loved himself—what else are you supposed to call a hedge fund manager from Manhattan? Acronym-spewing sell-side bro? Seriously, these guys must come up with those things in meeting designed solely for that purpose. Anyhow, hedge fund guy and I had run out of things to say about the weather and were staring miserably into our martinis during that awkward appetizer phase of the meal where you’re basically frantically googlingthingsyouhaveinchance cansharewithareallyrichguyinyourfaceontheinternet.
And then I caught a glimpse of his watch: a Patek Philippe Nautilus that was almost certainly worth more than my first car. Idiot that I am, I mentioned that I wrote about men’s style.
His eyes widened. “Awesome!” he practically shoved his wrist into my face. “You like watches? I just picked this up last month. There’s a two-year waitlist for it, but I pulled some strings at Patek.”
I nodded drunkenly, swigging wine directly from the bottle. “Nice. Love the blue.”
“Got any watches you like?” he asked, already eyeing my wrist with the steely-eyed scorn of a man about to be disappointed.
I was wearing my grandfather’s Timex Marlin from the 1960s. It was recently reissued, but the one I have is vintage—the actual watch he wore every day for nearly three decades until he passed away. It’d probably fetch around two Benjamins on the vintage watch resale market, but it means the world to me.
“You know, my grandfather had this old Timex he wore when he was in the navy in the ’60s,” I said, fully expecting him to pretend to care about its sentimental value.
Instead he grimaced. “Ohhh,” Hedge Fund Harry said, a world of embarrassment lodged in his voice. “That’s…nice. Classic.” And just like that, he turned his attention back to the lady sitting on his left so forcefully, I’m surprised he didn’t tear a muscle.
Needless to say, I learned everything I needed to know about him that evening and that awful Timex taught him everything he needed to know about me. Except it didn’t—at least not about me. Watches are more important than most guys realize because they do all the talking while you chat about the Eagles or daylight savings time or whatever innocuous bullshit you’ve settled on.
I’ve been writing about watches for almost a decade now, interviewing hundreds of men about what they wear on their wrists. I’ve watched how watches can act as instant identifiers for a certain tribe—you know the one, raised forefinger cocked into the air as if to silently Will Smith somebody who questions your taste—I’ve scrolled through enough watch Instagram feeds to know they send far more subliminal signals about the wearer than most realize. So allow me to indulge myself: here’s what I think your watch says about you—along with some recommendations for what you should wear if that actual means something to you.
Luxury Luxury watches are the easiest place to start, because they send an obvious message: that’s a fucking expensive watch you’re wearing. The guy wearing a $20K Rolex, Patek or Audemars Piguet is either telling the world “look how successful I am,” or “look how successful I want you to think I am,” or, in what’s likely a minority of cases, both of those things AND he actually knows and cares about watches. Occasionally you’ll get one that’s all three.
Brand speaks loudly here. Your Rolex Submariner motherf***** says “I read enough of those becoming a man magazine articles to know what every influential guy in charge wears on their wrist.” It’s the mid-level luxury watch equivalent of ordering the house red when you’re out to dinner. Safe. Inoffensive. Nobody cares what watch you’re wearing but they also don’t care if you’re rocking a fugly Casio. A Rolex Daytona is a whole different beast, however; that watch generally means you either watch blogs or you love reminding everyone you watch blogs. Either way you have opinions and you’re not afraid to share them.
Subtle signal watches, on the other hand, exist among luxury brands you’ve never heard of. A Lange & Sohne, Vacheron Constantin, Richard Mille, anything Greubel Forsey; the watches in this price range send a very clear message to the other watch nerds in the room: I know you know who these brands are and I know you think they’re f*****awesome. Trust me, I do too, and here’s why… When someone compliments your A Lange & Söhne at dinner, you will jump off your chair like you just won the Super Bowl and then spend the next 20 minutes explaining to your poor dining partner how freaking awesome German engineering is. I do this. All the time.
Related question: what about Omega? Are those mid-tier luxury now? I think they very much are. Omega occupies this new luxury sweet spot between easily recognizable (Rolex, etc.) and nerd boutique (everything else). To me, an Omega Sport/Seamaster speaks to a guy who likes history (moon landing shout-out! ), badass backstory, and probably doesn’t follow every silly watch trend the semi-online magazines churn out. You’ve got strong opinions on NASA’s internship program with Richard Branson, if nothing else.
Microbrands/coffee table watches/whatever you want to call them fall into this conversation, too. The guy wearing a tiny raised eyebrows emoji when you mention Nomos, Grand Seiko or—let’s be real, anybody who actively collects restored Universal Genèves is basically wearing a sign that says Bring. It. On. when it comes to watches and watches only. He’s done his research, spends far too much time reading/watching/watchingblogs about watches and thinks you’re an idiot if you’ve never heard of his favorite watch brand. He’s likely also very into Instagram and every third picture is of his watch collection.
That all being said, let’s talk about smartwatches for a second. The Apple Watch, Fitbits, Garmin Vivos, whatever. These are hands down the most blatant telegraphs anyone wears on their wrist because wearing a smartwatch says, essentially, I value utility over craftsmanship. The Apple Watch, specifically tends to scream “I’ve got probably way too many emails to deal with right now and yes I just checked them at the dinner table.” There’s nothing wrong with this! Smartwatches are highly functional and some are actually gorgeous. Hell, I own a seldom-worn Apple Watch. They just don’t have the same cachet as an actual watch because they lack soul. Literally. What you’re wearing is a Bluetooth computer with health-monitoring capabilities on your wrist.
Vintage is where things get really interesting because vintage is basically the subtle flex. To most people, your everyday vintage watch isn’t going to scream luxury or snobbery. Vintage Seiko? No one knows Seiko watches are incredible. Vintage Cartier Tank? Nobody. Vintage Omega? Yeah your friend here.
But to the people who should matter to you—other watch enthusiasts—it lights up like Christmas. Vintage watches are the type of watches you wear because you couldn’t care less about what Matt McClain or whoever thinks about your watch, but you know and love hobbyist-level watch folks will definitely give you mad props for that vintage Panerai you scored at Comic-Con. Hell, I’m this guy. “Thanks!” I’ll say when someone notices my vintage Omega Speedmaster, before launching into a nerdy rant about what makes this movement so freaking special.
Sports Is this the James Harden of watch sections? Probably. I feel bad leaving sports off, but…the guy who rocks that Aviator SS tattoo knows what he’s doing and wears that watch because everyone wears that watch. Same goes for try-hard backpacker watches like the TikToker-approved Suunto Airdives. They may as well have “everyone hates my soul but please follow me on Instagram” written on the side.
Talkers Again, this might be me being petty, but watches that people constantly want to talk to you about says something about you. And usually, it’s that you’re a nerd with fantastic taste. Explorer IIs, Anglers, Royal Oaks, vintage military watches; the watches that fall into this category may or may not be affordable. They do, however, signal to other watch aficionados that you know your shit, and if someone compliments your vintage Blancpain Fifty Fathoms or your Nitro OMEME at dinner, you’re gonna talk his ass off about it. Which, hey, isn’t necessarily a bad thing!
Obscure Japanese…the thing about really niche brands is that they send an interesting signal. You know your shit, but maybe you don’t give a damn what Matt McClain thinks about it. Sinn, Oris, Fr Nomos love Occams are great examples of this. Ultra compact Hebdomadaire love mainstream watch blogs and reviews sections. Hell, I own a Zodiac Sea Goat and love it, but that’s basically just bragging about owning a watch that falls into this category.
Money can’t buy you style…unless you wanna spend six figures on a Frank Muller? These are the guys who truly live and breathe watches. There’s no brand too small, no watch too expensive. A brother got his Gray Ghost on and now Louis Carbon is his middle name. These watches generally fall into the realm of “okay… guys?” but to him, he’s made a financial investment and will defend that shit to his grave. Unless he’s handing it off to his sons because he’s into that whole “leave this shit to my children” thing that lots of uber-collectors are into.
Inverse hedge fund guy Speaking of dudes that don’t give a fuck … wearing a cheap plastic watch with a cool backstory while rocking a wardrobe that costs more than my car is basically the inverse of hedge fund asshole guy. He doesn’t care what you think about his watch (and likely has strong opinions about what you’re wearing,) and he’s either ultra-confident or rich enough to not give a shit. Bonus points if you’re wearing that watch because it was your grandfather’s. You’ve basically won watch-snob approval points.
So what should you wear if you care about what others think about your watch? Well…I think that depends on who you’re wearing it for. If you want something that’ll turn heads and start conversations at your local dick(measurement)sationalist-approved bar, go crazy with a luxe option. Venture down the vintage route? Sure. Want to bang that girl across the room? Go with something she’ll recognize as legitimate but understated, like a Rolex Sub Date or Grand Seiko Haiyang. I generally wear something I know will appeal to other watch nerds most of the time but have killed it before rocking a brightly colored Nomos or high-end vintage Omega whenever I want to drop some serious watch knowledge on someone who didn’t ask for it.
Personally I’ve found that the best watches to strike up conversations with new people are watches with a story you can actually share. I get more polite nods from shitty Wall Street bro dudes when I pull out my grandfather’s Timex than I do flashing them my latest high-end happy than any expensive watch could ever offer me. Yes, it can send the “I’m way too cool for this event but thanks for noticing my watch” vibe if worn incorrectly, but it’s started more genuine conversations with wonderful people than any high-end watch I’ve ever owned.
Honestly, it all comes down to what you value in a watch. Is craftsmanship most important? Go vintage or high-end mechanical. Value legacy? Look for brands with an actual legacy. Dig technology over vintage movement badges? Rock that Apple Watch and own it. Want something unique? Check out high-quality independents.
Don’t forget…someone somewhere is judging you by your wrist whether you intend it or not. Your watch is subconsciously having a conversation about you right now that you’re too busy talking about surface level nonsense to realize is happening.
I will say I’ve certainly worn certain watches to certain meetings or events just to strike the right…tone. If I’m meeting with an especially trendy creative client, I might wear vintage Omega so we can bond over that crazy history. If I’m sitting down with old white men selling me insurance, I’ll wear something more conservative.
Is this stupid? Of course it is! But hey, I’ve had too many positive/watch-related experiences based on what someone’s wearing on their wrist to say that watches don’t mean something. See the experience I hadwith a vintage Rolex above. This is way beyond subconscious signaling; we’re going full Papers, Pleasehere.
I’ll admit it’s funny to me that as we increasingly put clocks everywhere on our iPhones and computers and water coolers we’ve ever been about wearing something as purely analog as a watch. We don’t need watches to tell us time, but we sure as hell do use them to tell others who we are. Whether it’s a story about our family, our success, our taste, or our personality, most watches worn today are some blend of truthful and aspirational. At least yours should be.
As for me, I’ll continue rocking my grandfather’s Timex every chance I get but I’ve added some significant purchases to my collection over the years. Whether it was my first vintage Omega I bought after landing a huge story or that stupid-ass 1970s Seiko my dad found at a garage sale or my beat-up hunter field watch I’ve taken to trade shows for the past three years, each watch I buy has a story. And if you’re fortunate enough to find yourself telling it, you’ve got your face lit up like Christmas every single time.
While catching up with Hedge Fund Harry last week—I work in media, we run into “interesting” people all the time—his eyes darted immediately to my wrist. I was wearing a modestly priced but not super dressy Nomos that day. He nodded knowingly and actually held a conversation with me. His watch passed some sort of Jedi mind trick sensor and allowed him to see me as a human being. God bless his soul. I should’ve been happy, but it just made me sad for us both.
I was talking to my wife about this column late last night and she relayed a story about a watch conversation she had with an older gentleman at a party. He noticed her Nomos and asked about it. After discussing watches for awhile, he unrolled his French cuff to reveal a beat-up Rolex Explorer and told her he had traveled to six continents with that watch over his 40-year career in photojournalism.
Now that’s a conversation worth having.
