For the majority of my life I have been philosophically opposed to wearing a watch. Any lifestyle choice that forced me to manage my time with such precision that I should need a clock strapped to my person seemed ill suited to my temperament. It may have started with the love-hate relationship I had with my first timepiece, a classic mickey mouse watch. I must have been four or five years old at the time. It was a Christmas present under the tree in a box too small to be an action figure and my mother probably told me not to shake it. When I opened it, I remember being amused by his spinning arms, and utterly confused as to why I should need a watch. I wasn’t in a position to be on time or late for anything in particular, and there was a gigantic clock on the wall in the kitchen. At the time, I was also concerned with little baby/big boy transition, and a Mickey Mouse watch seemed a sure sign of baby-ness to me, though a watch was certainly big-boyish, so there was a degree of confusion surrounding the item. I wore it, because I got the definite sense that my parents were both really into it. At some point the strap broke and if fell of my wrist and the watch broke and that was the end of it, and I think I was just kind of relieved.
A couple of years later my uncle gave my a digital watch, which was quite revolutionary at the time (1982), but again, knowing the time didn’t really interest me so much, and I think it ended up at the bottom of my Lego box, with every other cracker jack prize of my youth.
In middle school I got a hand me down swatch from my step-sister, which was just about the height of accessorization, and there was the summer that I first learned what about watch-tans. Through high school and college, a handful of watches floated into my life and eventually settled to the bottom of a little leather man-jewelry box that had belonged to my grandfather. But still, I wasn’t buying into the whole time-sensitive lifestyle.
It wasn’t until a couple of years ago that I decided to buck up and join the adults of this world who make it their responsibility to know how late they are. My transition watch: the Swiss Army Officer’s watch, a hulking piece of stainless steel man-metal, that despite it’s size (a husky 150 grams) sits comfortably on my wrist. It is the masculine model of my wife’s very practical watch, though in reality I copped the style from the friend who married us. It’s classic, it’s functional, but it doesn’t have a stop watch, I do tend to take it off a lot because of it’s weight.
So, the new apple of my watchful eye [sardonic caesura for the pun to sink in] is the St Moritz Titan II, a titanium paramour of function and style. It’s got a stopwatch, an alarm, is fairly light, and damn sexy looking. It is a watch that screams, “I can do anything, without spilling my drink.”