Mr Charlie Siem lives to his own beat. Literally. He is one of the world’s most distinguished classical musicians, a violin-obsessed wunderkind who first picked up a bow and fiddle aged three. He has since performed with practically every orchestra under the sun and has crossed the cultural divide to collaborate with Mr Bryan Adams, Ms Miley Cyrus and The Who. The London-born, Florence-based virtuoso owes his formidable success – eight albums, world tours, superstar fans in Lady Gaga and Ms Katy Perry – to an innate ability to keep the time. Well, sort of.

“Timing is essential as a musician,” says the Eton- and Cambridge-educated 37-year-old over Zoom. “Music is defined by time. The metronome is something I work with every day. I need it to ensure my inner sense of rhythm is solid. Timing is a crucial aspect of my life.”

Timing, maybe. Timekeeping, meh. This interview was scheduled for yesterday. But Siem never logged on to the call. It’s something he seems to remember, with a semi-awkward raise of both eyebrows, halfway through explaining that he regularly gets caught up in the moment, losing all sense of time, like an early 19th-century poet stumbling across a particularly spectacular waterfall.

“Some people are disciplined and rigid enough never to let their relative experience of time affect their lives,” says Siem, the son of a Norwegian father and English mother who grew up close to the Albert Hall (a venue he has since played, with Bryan Adams). “Whereas I often get completely swept up. I have been incredibly late for some very important things and in some cases [raises eyebrows] missed situations entirely.” An admission? An apology? I’m not sure. We move on.

Hastily rescheduled media interviews aside, in the age of the global brand ambassador, it’s a wonder that Siem hasn’t been tapped up by one of Switzerland’s big-hitting watchmakers. A snappily dressed modern-day Renaissance man with matinée-idol good looks and a Calvinist work ethic (Siem performed his first solo gig aged 15, and hasn’t stopped since), you’d have thought that marketing departments up and down the Jura Mountains would have been falling over themselves to work with someone who, aged 18, performed with the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra; who became the UK’s youngest Professor of Music at 30, and who, as a side hustle, has modelled for Giorgio Armani, Chanel and Dunhill. But no.

There have been watch-y things. “A launch with Calvin Klein in Europe. Something with Michael Kors in China.” But no official, “friend-of-the-brand” type situation. Which is good. Because such a role would have ruled Siem out of this interview. Purposes of editorial integrity, and all that, you’ll understand. Besides, Siem doesn’t buy into all that branding BS anyway.

“I’ve kind of got an aversion to brands,” he says, wearing a handsome navy velvet tracksuit top that looks equal parts comfortable and expensive. “I feel like we live in a world that’s so saturated in the idea that everyone – companies, individuals – has to create their own brand, that everything becomes about the packaging more than the substance. I feel that’s a big mistake, because you lose the attention to detail, the high level of quality. The brand becomes more important than the actual product.”

To watches. One of Siem’s earliest watch-related memories – I get the sense he finds that a weird question, like why would a kid have a memory about a watch? And, after I’ve asked the question, I find myself agreeing with him, but it turns out that Siem does have a childhood memory about a watch – involves his grandfather and great uncles.

“They all had Cartier Tanks,” he says. “I knew my grandfather had one, but one day I noticed they all had one. I remember thinking there were great, so chic, so elegant.”

Which means Siem must have been pretty chuffed to unwrap a present on his 21st birthday and discover he’d been invited to join the family club. “It’s still the watch that means the most to me. It provides a link to my childhood. I’ve broken the glass on the front a few times, changed the strap from brown to black and back again. It’s not a hard-wearing watch. It’s not an everyday watch – I certainly wouldn’t wear it training. Or skiing.” Nor, for that matter, playing the violin.

Siem might not wear a watch while plying his trade but he does wear clothes (it’d be harder getting gigs if he didn’t, one would imagine). A scroll of Siem’s Instagram page suggests he’s almost as into his double-breasted jackets as he is Mr Ludwig van Beethoven’s back catalogue.

“Clothes have always played some sort of role in my life,” he says. “I guess being a performer, having an identity on stage, a visual image, that’s obviously part of my personality. I’ve always been interested in how people decide to present themselves – how they choose to extenuate their personalities through their clothes.”

Siem has been having his suits made by Meyer & Mortimer, a military tailor on London’s Piccadilly, since he was 18. “I prefer things that gain character and elegance the older they get.” Of his personal style, he says it’s all referential, one way or another. As a child he was obsessed with the OGs of classical music. Mr Johann Sebastian Bach. Mr Johannes Brahms. Mr Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. “The way they dressed, as much as what they played.” Later, he became mesmerised by the great performers of the 20th century. Mr Errol Flynn. Mr Elvis Presley. “How louche they were, but how effortlessly elegant.” What did Siem think of the Mr Baz Luhrmann film? “I thought Austin Butler was brilliant. It must be incredibly challenging, trying to embody a legend…”

Back to watches. What next, after the Tank?

“Well, having said that I’m not really into brands, I must be honest, I did buy a Rolex – I was one of those people.” Siem was in his mid-20s, his career was taking off. After a UK tour, he found he had a few quid burning a hole in his pocket. So he did what every recently flush twenty-something does: he bought a Submariner.

“Rolex is an incredibly successful model. The ultimate ‘brand’ in the way it defines a feeling, or a sense of quality and solemnity. No matter what background you come from, everyone aspires to own a Rolex.”

Not long after buying his steel Submariner Date, Siem stopped wearing it. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d been suckered in. “Everyone had a Submariner. You are kind of normalising yourself, making yourself ordinary. So I stopped wearing it. I gave it to my younger sister as a birthday gift.” Well, that was generous. “Yeah – I’ve told her to keep the box.”

Why does Siem think men get so geeky, so fanatical, about watches? “I guess because they are a sign of taste; an indicator of your own particular sense of style. Not everyone will recognise or appreciate a watch, but some people will, people within a specific community, and a watch is a way of communicating to those people.”

Based in Italy since the pandemic, Siem played Naples and Alba last month. He also has concerts lined up in Norway and Piacenza. He’s travelling less than he used to, and he’s enjoying it. His latest album, Vaughan Williams/Grieg: Violin Sonatas, was widely acclaimed. Life is good, although he’s recently dismissed his management. Creative differences. “I’m now working on finding the right sort of people to work with. That’s something I’ve not always got right.”

Cartier, if you’re listening…