THE JOURNAL
A Horological Vacation: The Best Watches Of 2023, Reimagined As Holiday Reading
The captain leaned against the thin rail and looked down at the quayside below. It was early, and the sun had not long cleared the tree-lined hillside above the port. The houses that perched below were all but invisible. He heard the cars before he saw them, a faint mist of dust rising behind each one as they rumbled across the cobbles, through the harbour’s open gates and towards his vantage point. The only other noise came from his crew as they positioned themselves two decks below, ready to welcome the arriving guests.
Squinting into the sun, he adjusted the peak of his hat downward and followed the five identical black saloons as they drew to a neatly choreographed halt on the quay. The clean, orderly image was soon broken as the drivers set about depositing luggage carefully, but briskly onto the stones and welcoming their passengers into the light.
Cocking a glance over his shoulder, he heard his first officer ascend the spiral staircase behind him and walk towards him on the rail. She would be coming to remind him to get himself down there – people expected to be greeted by the captain. He had no intention of not being there, as was right and proper, but equally, liked to savour the last chance he’d have to look down on the group that would be his responsibility for the next fortnight.
She reached his side. “Well, it’s that time again,” she began, before they were both distracted by a noise from below. A much shabbier, smaller, white car had pulled up behind the five chauffeur-driven Mercedes. Its driver had not waited to get out or even stop moving before starting to shout both at the nearest chauffeur and up at the boat.
“Looks like our guests thought they could waltz right in without having their papers checked,” the captain smiled. “Well, our dear beloved harbourmaster is going to bring them right back down to earth.”
As a member of his crew hurried down the passerelle to mediate between the red-faced official and the slightly confused group of nine passengers, the captain made eye-contact with Steph, his first officer.
“Looks like we’ve got some time. Why don’t you talk me through who we’ve got here?”
He knew that beyond her actual responsibilities, Steph would have made time to know everything possible about the men and women who would be sailing with them. He enjoyed her background briefing, as much for what was left unsaid as the amount of information she always managed to memorise. He knew that she took pride in this feat, as well as acting as something of a diplomatic buffer between his forthright manner and their invariably rich, powerful and sometimes capricious clientele.
“Yes sir. We’ve got a really interesting group here. Car one, far right, that’s commander Bell, first name Ross, a former pilot in the French air force. Well-travelled, lives in Paris, no immediate family, but a flawless record. I hear he’s thinking about going into politics.” The captain eyed the man – forties, tall, in a sky-blue shirt, as he produced his passport for the harbourmaster from a silver case that glinted in the morning light.
“It was early, and the sun had not long cleared the tree-lined hillside above the port”
“OK. Next?” Standing by the second car was a group of three more men, none quite as tall but all well-built. “More military types?”
“Yes and no. Here we have Messrs Panerai, Unimatic and Montblanc. The first two,” she said, gesturing towards them as she spoke, “are Italian. He’s Swiss-French. They’ve got ties to the Italian Navy, while he’s more of an explorer-adventurer. Specialises in Alpine glacier trekking.”
The captain let out a short exhalation. “Ha. Closest thing he’ll find to glaciers around here is the ice in the champagne buckets.”
Steph raised an eyebrow in mock condemnation. “Don’t be like that. They’re all keen divers, I’ll have you know. Panerai, he comes from a long line of naval commandos, so don’t let the more laid-back look fool you. The other two, well just look at their kit. Ceramic bezels, antimagnetic casing, rubber straps – Unimatic’s even brought a spare Nato strap made from seatbelt fabric. They’re the real deal.”
“All right, all right. Noted. I suppose even Panerai’s dusty khaki exterior hides state-of-the art Super-LumiNova, you’re going to tell me now?”
“Since you mention it, yes it does. Now, shall we move on?”
The next two presented a different image straight away. One dressed in airily-cut linen, a pair of woven leather sandals and a loose neck scarf, the other in a pristine white T-shirt that revealed tanned arms affixed with numerous bracelets.
“Hermès, on the left, deep in conversation with Gerald Charles. Hermès is another Parisian – don’t tell me you’ve never heard of them. Fashion royalty, famously elegant. Technically, Paris by way of New England – specifically Cape Cod. It’s all about the lines, apparently. Doesn’t do things by halves: in-house leather, the best in the world; custom-designed typefaces; collaborations with Apple, that you must have seen, a few years back?”
“Hermès I know, yes. Tell me about Gerald Charles.”
“He’s more of an explorer-adventurer. Specialises in Alpine glacier trekking”
“Ok, yes… a relative newcomer, but descended from the great designer Mr Gérald Genta – hence the name. Who, obviously, has never been more in demand. This one’s very keen on tennis, but without wanting to seem like a complete sporting cliché. Something of a throwback, you might think to look at him, but a totally modern character – everything’s titanium-this, high-performance-rubber-that. Thin, classy, highly polished exterior, but deceptively capable. Left-handed, you might notice, as well.”
“An aesthete and an athlete, eh? Got it. I feel like only half of that description applies to our next customer though.” The captain turned his gaze to the smallest figure of the group, dressed in head-to-toe stripes, broken up by a large yin-and-yang logo.
“Goes by the moniker laCalifornienne. Up and coming designer from the West Coast, making a name by taking established European templates and giving them, shall we say, something of a sun-kissed, Golden State makeover. Hence the stripes – that’s something of a signature look. The logo changes all the time; this particular look is, I’m told, exclusive to MR PORTER. Runs on quartz movements, but really, is all about the style rather than the hardcore horology.”
“Can’t say I mind that. Might make a change to have someone on board who’s actually telling the truth when they say they’re low-maintenance,” laughed the captain, moving his arm nearly fast enough to avoid the theatrically officious swat of his first officer’s hand.
“Behave yourself,” she rebuked him. “These are the coolest young things that summer 2023 has to offer, you know. Just two more to go.”
Standing at the leftmost edge of the group were two men in wildly contrasting shades of green. One a mellow sage, almost pale blue in its softness, the other a vivid, almost fluorescent green, somewhere between the colour of a tennis ball and a grasshopper. The former had a slim bearing, the latter slightly more athletic, but hardly what you’d call muscle-bound. Not as much as the broad shoulders of Unimatic and Panerai, anyway.
“Monsieur Ressence and Herr Oris,” Steph intoned, as though announcing them into a society ballroom. “Ressence is from Belgium, a widely respected designer who’s been on the scene for just over a decade. You’re looking at him in his ‘Type 8’ guise, the most minimalist and restrained he’s ever been, but at the same time, more adventurous in his use of colour. Slimmer too, with no lugs to be seen.”
He shot her a quizzical look.
“See for yourself,” she retorted.
“I’m not disagreeing,” he responded. “Just – well, Ressence isn’t quite like all the others, is he? But that’s not a criticism. What about Oris? What’s his story?”
“Swiss, from Hölstein, on the Swiss-German side of things. A mainstream, mass-market history stretching back nearly 120 years – was once one of the biggest names in Europe, back in the 1950s and 1960s. The past decade’s been good to him, too – started to get very popular again around about 2015 and somehow seems to have become more or less everyone’s best friend, without developing an ego the size of a planet or losing his sense of humour. Not a bad trick.”
“Does that explain the green then?”
“More or less. Just signed a major deal with Disney to collaborate on designs featuring characters from The Muppet Show. The green is in honour of Kermit the Frog, and it pretty much stole the show at Watches and Wonders in April. Now everyone’s wondering what will come next.”
“Something of a throwback, you might think to look at him, but a totally modern character”
The captain nodded. It looked like the over-zealous harbourmaster had concluded his checks and thanks to the quick intervention of his steward, done so without causing a scene among the cast of global celebrities and figures of note who were finally making their way aboard. Time to head down. He stood up straight, nodded again at his first officer, and in a motion so practiced it was almost subconscious, went to check the time.
“Huh. That’s weird,” he said, more to the air around him than to Steph in particular. “I must have left my watch at home. Could have sworn I had it when I left.”
As they walked towards the spiral staircase, he continued. “I’ll have to pick one up when we next dock. Was about time I got a new one, if I’m honest. Do you think any of those guys down there might know a thing or two about watches?”
His first officer turned and looked back at him as she started to walk down the stairs. “You know what, Captain, I think they just might.”