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closetofanxiety · 6 years ago

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Nitromare: Underneath the Barrel

Another week, another episode of Nitro from the Vince Russo era. This Monday is November 1, 1999, and we’re live from the Target Center in Minneapolis, Minnesota. I went out to Minneapolis to see a wrestling show last year, and had a fine time. I don’t know if I’ll have as much fun watching this Nitro.

We open up with Bret Hart upbraiding Hall and Nash for interfering in his match last week. They don’t know why he’s upset, since they interfered on his behalf. “Screw you, Scott!” Bret yells.

Bret walks out to the crowd, on crutches, and tells people he thinks Bill Goldberg is the rightful U.S. champion. Sid Vicious, hair product spilling down the back of his leather vest in thick rivulets, comes out and beats on Hart. Hall and Nash come out to mock the injured Canadian hero.

We’re still in the midst of this nonsensical tournament to crown a new WCW world heavyweight champion. The brackets make me realize I’ve been misspelling Lash LeRoux’s name wrong for two straight installments of Nitromare. It’s in the spirit of Crash TV, bro!

One thing I appreciate is that the WWE Network has left in the commercials that are wrestling-themed, so there are some Randy Savage Slim Jims ads, and a lot of ads for WCW toys. It’s amazing how little ads for wrestling toys have changed since then. The medium is ripe for reinvention.

Some recap, some backstage nonsense, and we’re onto our first match: Vampiro vs. Berlyn, in a battle to see who is the top mall goth in all of WCW. It’s a pretty decent match, and then ... Oh God, it’s the Michael Graves-era Misfits running out of the back for some reason. “Vampiro is a musician as well,” Tony notes. I’ll say this: the Michael Graves albums aren’t as bad as people claim. Some decent songs on those, but people were just going to shit on anything that wasn’t Danzig, casually overlooking that “Earth A.D.” was terrible.

Ah, let’s see: ref bump, the Misfits take out Berlyn’s bodyguard, The Wall, with a chair shot, and then help Vampiro get the cheating win over Berlyn. The Wall has miraculously recovered from being knocked unconscious 15 seconds ago, and gives the microphone to Berlyn. “From now on, screw USA!” he says.

Backstage, Hall is reading a newspaper. Ah, the 1990s! He and Nash mumble semi-audibly to each other. In another part of backstage, the Revolution have locked a leather-clad Torrie Wilson in a cage. “She’s the property now of the Revolution,” Brain informs us.

The Revolution come out to the ring. Perry Saturn is wearing an outfit entirely composed of denim except for his leather Kangol. “You say you want a revolution?” Shane Douglas asks. No one said that, Shane. They let Perry talk for a while, which is a bold choice. Perry demands a key on top of a pole match, the key being the one to let Torrie Wilson out of her cage. Is this the first item on a pole match of the Russo era? I believe it is.

Dean Malenko takes the mic to call out Chris Benoit. “You’ve been nothing but a puss, old buddy,” he says. DANGEROUSLY EDGY.

Benoit comes out. All these guys are in street clothes, which hilariously means polo shirts tucked into jeans. They look like a bunch of office guys getting ready to cut loose with a game of touch football at the company picnic. Chris Benoit announces he will wrestle Dean Malenko in a cage, which for some reason causes Malenko to have some kind of psychotic break.

Backstage, the Filthy Animals are coming into the building, and a security stops them, demanding to see backstage passes. This makes a huge amount of sense. The Filthy Animals beat the security guy up, because they can’t be contained by your rules. Meanwhile, Mike Tenay is interviewing Kimberly Page, who is flanked by all the Nitro Girls. How many Nitro Girls can you name without looking it up? Was one of them named Sapphire? That’s about as much as I can muster. Kim tells the Nitro Girls she’s leaving the group. I never really thought of her as a Nitro Girl tbh.

Ernest “The Cat” Miller comes to the ring, and the fake music the WWE Network inserts over his entrance song is unbelievably bad. Seriously, go and watch this. It’s incredible. It sounds like a Casio keyboard has been sunk in a vat of pickle brine before being struck by hammer-wielding orangutans.

He’s wrestling Lash LeRoux. “Big future ahead for this guy,” Brain says. “I can see it. He’s going to explode.” He’s now a Christian cartoonist and illustrator, so maybe? This match lasts maybe two minutes. The Cat’s knee gives out and LeRoux picks up the win.

Backstage, Hart is raging about Nash and Hall. “These guys aren’t the bottom of the barrel, they’re underneath the barrel!” he fumes. Meanwhile, dissension in the Nitro Girls as they try to decide who will be the new leader. Elsewhere, the Filthy Animals are secretly videotaping Lex Luger and Miss Elizabeth. Eddie Guerrero is wearing a fetching Cosby sweater. The camera keeps rolling after they stop acting and then they show an actual behind-the-scenes TNT director. Everyone is cracking up. LIVE TV, BRO! Maybe that was deliberate? Maybe Vince Russo was out to destroy the fourth wall once and for all?

Now we cut to a remote segment with a shockingly subdued, normal Scott Steiner talking about a back injury to Larry Zbyszko. This is a totally different Steiner. No shouting, no babbling, just a guy talking like a football player about the specifics of an injury and surgery. Larry is wearing a colored denim shirt with the Nitro logo on the breast pocket. At last, a garment fine enough for me to be wed in. Was this an attempt to do a “shoot interview”? Russo pulling back the curtain - this ain’t Scott Steiner the character, this is Scott Steiner THE HUMAN BEING!

Now we’re back in the ring, and the Nitro Girls are dancing. I would like to read an oral history of this dance troupe. Get on that, Bixenspan. The dancing ends with some pushing and shoving, but before that can go anywhere, we’re backstage again, with Tenay interviewing Buff Bagwell. The Buff Daddy complains about “the writers” holding him back.

A series of vignettes show us Kevin Nash doing a Vince McMahon impression. What am I doing with my life?

Back to the Nitro Girls. More pushing and shoving backstage. Trying to turn them into workers was such a characteristically Russovian decision. And, like most of his ideas, it was terrible and obviously doomed to fail.

A crowd sign: “BUFF IS THE REAL PEOPLE [sic] CHAMPION”

Stevie Ray comes out and announces that “the powers that be” have determined there will be a strap match. “Who said that? The two writers in the back?” Buff yells. Yes, Buff. So now we have a strap match. It’s not a good strap match, and the two suited goons who work for THE DAMN WRITERS IN THE BACK run out because Buff starts to win. Why do Russo and Ferrara hate Buff so much?

We switch from the ring as the ring announcer is talking to Tenay interviewing Jeff Jarrett. “Don’t get slappy with me, Tenay!” he says. He drops some more insider terminology, because Vince Russo thought that was what normal people wanted.

Kevin Nash comes out, a vision of horror in putty makeup, as Vince McMahon. “The fans out here, they don’t even know who he is,” Tony says. Which explains why they’re silently watching this terrible skit. Less than three years after this, Nash would be working for Vince McMahon once again, and losing to Chris Jericho in a hair vs. hair match. Life comes at you fast, Kevin.

“I put anyone out of business until I was the only show in town,” Nash as Vince says, eerily predicting what will happen in less than 18 months. The crowd is restless and bored. He uses some insider lingo, as was the style at the time. Nash-Vince introduces Scott Hall as “the Trouser Snake.”

“He’s clean and sober!” Nash-Vince proclaims. This is grim. Fifteen years before this, a young “Magnum” Scott Hall was starting off in this very city, in the dying days of the once-great American Wrestling Association. How far we had all come.

Hall launches some more insider lingo and does a crotch chop aimed at “the boys in New York.” Seconds and minutes of my life, rushing by, never to be held again.

Backstage shit. Lex, Liz, Meng, Perfect. Ah, Perfect. The last great star of the Minneapolis-based AWA, a native of nearby Robbinsdale. What did Verne make of all this? I mean, Verne probably would have tried to put a 59-year-old Baron Von Raschke over Bret Hart, but I digress.

Hennig gets a good pop when he comes out. Brain points out Hennig’s father, the great AWA star Larry Hennig, at ringside. The ghosts of the 1970s are all around us. This is a match against Disco Inferno. This will not be up to the standard of one of Hennig’s matches in the previous decade with Nick Bockwinkel.

The crowd absolutely fucking loses it for Larry Hennig, chanting “LARE-EE! LARE-EE!” as he punches Disco Inferno. Ah, that does my heart good.

Of course, this has to be interrupted by the random appearance of some goober walking down the ramp from backstage. Disco Inferno runs out to talk to him, and they walk down the ramp to the back. The bell rings, and Hennig wins by contour. Larry claps at ringside while looking like he’s seen someone shoot a family pet.

Some backstage garbage. We come back to the ring for a “hardcore three-way dance.” The Barbarian w/Jimmy Hart, Meng, and ... Norman Smiley dressed as a baseball catcher. Two of the all-time legit tough guys and a star from the old British wrestling, in this goofy-ass plunder battle. This should have been a stiff, nasty classic. Instead it’s a slow, sloppy farce.

Crowd sign, evidently made by a lunatic: “PUSH DAVID FLAIR.”

In the ring, Meng and the Barbarian are chopping the shit out of Norman Smiley. THIS IS MORE LIKE IT. Smiley’s shoulder is sliced open, probably on one of those fake trash cans. He’s stretchered away from the ring for some reason. He jumps off the stretcher when he sees that Meng and the Barbarian have knocked each other out, and covers the Barbarian for the win.

Backstage, Jim Duggan is begging an unseen Vince Russo for his job. “I’ve been wrestling for 20 years, and I think I have more fan support than some of these guys out here doing the dropkicks.” Fancy, fancy dropkicks!

Russo, off-camera, sneers, “It’s all about ratings. Next!” He managed to keep his voice off TV for two whole weeks. As we know, the amount of Vince Russo time would only grow.

Jarrett comes out and demands to see Luger. Jarrett is mad that Luger accused him of beating up Miss Elizabeth two weeks ago. “This is not the WWF. We don’t abuse women here!” Luger comes out and apologizes for accusing Jeff Jarrett of hitting Miss Elizabeth with a guitar. This is exactly like “War and Peace.” But it’s all a ruse! Luger goads Jarrett into insulting Meng, who runs out. Jarrett flees, wisely.

Miss Elizabeth and Luger join Meng. Elizabeth thanks Meng, and then ... maces him. Luger pulls out a crowbar and beats on Meng. None of this makes sense. None of it has to. We are deep within the heart of the Nitromare.

Backstage nonsense. The Filthy Animals, who Mark accurately describes as “The Go-Bots version of DX,” come out for a good ol’ fashioned object on a pole match. The object here is a key that will free Torrie Wilson from a cage. If Eddie Guerrero wins, he will reunite Torrie with her crew. Perry Saturn implies that if he wins, he will have sex with Torrie, presumably against her will. Whenever someone talks about how great wrestling was in the late 1990s, I will remember this.

Perry Saturn is driving a forklift with the Torrie cage on it. I’m not sure he’s a licensed forklift operator. Also, I’m pretty sure the Target Center is a union shop. Could be a strike in the works here.

Tony: “It’s been a wild night.” Brain: “It’s getting better every Monday!” Only Tony is truthful.

Eddie vs. Saturn should be a good match, but of course it’s not. After about two minutes, there’s interference from Shane Douglas, and most of the action in the match revolves around attempts to get the key off the pole. This is the problem with object on a pole matches.

Sign in the crowd: “CONAN [sic] IS THE TACO BELL DOG.” This is a racist reference that may be lost on younger people reading this today.

Eddie gets the key while Torrie chokes Saturn. The Filthy Animals were, theoretically, a pretty good faction. It’s kind of a fun mixture of personalities, and their all-for-one mentality really helped them stand out. They were let down by the fact that Vince Russo was in charge.

More backstage shit, and then we’re back in the ring for a Filthy Animals match. I mean, we just had all the Filthy Animals out for the previous match, but here they are again. No way the crowd could possibly become bored by 25 minutes of the same people, right?

Kidman and Konnan, the tag team champs, are going to be wrestling Sting and Luger. We’ve also seen a lot of Luger tonight. This is WCW, but they’re running the show like one of those super local indies where everyone has to wrestle twice on the same show.

Some people in the crowd have Juggalo face paint, the second week in a row I’ve noticed this. Did the Misfits ever wrestle the Insane Clown Posse on a WCW show? If not, why not?

This match sucks, but Sting is still insanely popular. The crowd goes berserk at every Stinger splash. The match ends after three or four minutes via DQ, when Rey and Eddie jump Sting. The Filthy Animals were the babyfaces in the previous match, and they’re the heels here. Welcome to Vince Russo’s World of Moral Ambiguity and Veiled Rape References.

Sting is mad because Lex didn’t help against the Filthy Animals. Sting and Luger have quite the rocky friendship. Backstage, Sting knocks over an (empty) barrel of Surge, the none-more-Nineties soft drink.

We come to the ring, where Booker T is walking out. He’s jumped on the ramp by Jeff Jarrett. This is a fun, Southern-style match, or more like a hyper fast, caffeinated version of a Southern match. Naturally, it gets interrupted by the two besuited goons working on behalf of Russo and Ferrara, and Jarrett wins. Has there been a clean pin once tonight?

A remote piece from the set of “Slam,” which would later be renamed “Ready to Rumble,” the godawful David Arquette wrestling movie. Tenay interviews Goldberg. Goldberg sure doesn’t like the Outsiders and Sid!

A bunch of backstage garbage. Madusa, another AWA favorite, gets a nice reception from the crowd. She’s going to wrestle Evan Karagias. This is pretty much what people who don’t like intergender wrestling are thinking of when they talk about intergender wrestling. Madusa keeps trying to seduce Karagias rather than wrestle him. Madusa pins him and then makes out with him. Everything is awful.

Benoit and Malenko are wrestling in a cage. This should be a brutal classic by two of the best technical wrestlers of all time. “I can’t wait ‘til this match is over,” Brain says. I feel the same way about this episode, and this entire insane project.

The match is not a brutal classic. It’s over in 4:29. A few decent spots, but more like a highlight reel than anything. Perry Saturn runs out to try and help Malenko. It doesn’t work. Benoit wins with a diving headbutt off the top of the cage, which is insane. The Revolution gets into the cage and they beat up Benoit. The Filthy Animals have turned into babyfaces again, and they run into the cage to help Benoit. The crowd doesn’t know what to do, so they do nothing. David Flair, the least electrifying man in sports entertainment, shows up with a crowbar to attack the Filthy Animals. Now Sting comes out to attack the Filthy Animals. With any luck, we’ll get Meng out here to attack the Filthy Animals.

Instead, we cut to the parking garage. David Flair is trying to sneak away, but gets run down by someone driving a car. It’s Kim Page. This show is terrible.

Backstage: someone has beaten up Nash-Vince. Good.

Now the main event: Sid vs. Scott Hall. Why am I doing this to myself? How much longer am I going to be able to do this?

The match is bad. It lasts 4:53. For a second I have the horrifying fear that this is the match where Sid broke his leg, but then I look it up and see that it happened during the Sin PPV in January 2001.

There’s a ref bump. Second of the night. A referee was also attacked by Shane Douglas after the key on a pole match. Bret Hart comes out on his crutches. Hits Sid. Swings and misses with Hall. Hall gets the pin on Sid. Who cares about any of this? What is even happening in this show?

#Nitromare #show reviews #WCW #1990s wrestling

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goodnightwatch · 7 years ago

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AN (IM)PERFECT COLLECTION

An Horological Psychologist’s Magnum Opus, or How a Lowly Graduate Student Amassed a World-Class Collection of Fine Timepieces.

By: Andrew Lawrence Smith

Part 1

You might think it’s easy to collect watches, but I’ll have you know that even if you’re the richest person in the world, you simply cannot know what to buy and when and where and why to buy it until you have put in an insane amount of work. In some ways it really evens the playing field between the rich and the working class because it’s not about money, it’s about achieving a holistic collection that balances and harmonizes everything from wrist-time to occasion. Collecting is as much of an art as the watches themselves. Some people get lucky, sure, but then again some people win the lottery and if you’re reading this, that is not going to happen to you, probably ;).

Hi there. My name is Andrew and I am a 37 year old PhD student and Jungian Depth Psychology Consultant finishing a dissertation in Jungian & Archetypal Studies and Horology at Pacifica Graduate Institute. Do they offer the horology part? No. I created that after being unable to separate my depth psychological research from wristwatches. This is what we deem a vocational call. When you spend hours observing the least and the greatest of watches under magnification to understand what “fine” means and when you press each watch against your ear to hear every tick and tone made by the watch, you’re just barely beginning to be on the path. My research discusses how timepieces, the wristwatch in particular, might function as a modern mandala, having a real connection to the unconscious archetypal Self, but that goes way beyond the scope of this essay. To understand some of the terms I use, you might need to dip into Jungian depth psychology, and for the most important definitions, they can be found here: http://www.psychceu.com/jung/sharplexicon.html

Many arrive at a collection that fits them by procuring countless timepieces and then throwing them back into the abyss in order to please their peers (fashion watches and status pieces) and have the experience that refines one’s taste, some of which I’ve done, but the serious collector will lie in wait like a dragon observing from atop a mountain of gold; the gold being serious knowledge, in the vein of attempting to acquire an horological and psychological philosophers’ stone. When all variables align—after months and years of reading and discussing and visiting boutiques and second-hand shops either brick-and-mortar or online—only then will one receive the full satisfaction of the perfect watch for them, the perfect complete set, and the perfect price to once again return to one’s perch fully satisfied with the catch/game of a lifetime. Needless to say I will not be discussing the auction world at all. Auctions are for rich people. Although the rich or super-rich should go through the process that I have gone through, they really don’t have to. Their loss. Then again, they hire guys like me to pick out their watches! This is a story for the ultra-conservative (no politics implied) watch collector. The metaphor of the miserly, yet punctilious dragon, represents the foundation of the composition of an horological psychologist. Horology is cool, psychology is cool, but I contend that it is only when the whole process of being an horologist is twinned with the knowledge and experience of depth psychology that one can truly enter into this deeper world of alchemical achievement, understanding, and appreciation.

Put another way, what I have found from studying wristwatches—as they relate to universal mandala symbols—is that the image of the timepiece, especially the wristwatch (in my own psyche) replaces every single religious symbol with a unified and integral symbol of the height of human consciousness and beyond. I’m more than just your average atheist, I am an horological psychologist who has integrated world mythologies into a knowledge and gnosis of being that connects the alchemically perfect timepiece and the supreme meaning of the individual and collective psyche; Jung’s notion of the archetype of the Self, the whole being of the individual. For more on that, you can hold out for my completed dissertation, and in the meantime read C.G. Jung’s “Memories Dreams Reflections.”

The image above was taken by me and is from C.G. Jung’s “The Red Book: Liber Novus.” It is one of many mandala images that Jung created to symbolize the whole Self archetype. A perfect watch on the wrist does not fall short of the feelings evoked through this depiction of presentiating origin: becoming fully integrated into the purest harmony of consciousness.

Part 2

It was by accident, or rather synchronicity, that on the 28th of June, 2012 I found myself attracted to a cheap, skeletonized mechanical wristwatch that was glaringly out of place amid items I was perusing to fill a few needs for my San Francisco apartment. I had been studying Nikola Tesla in depth and was possessed by the genius of his inventions and notions of free electricity. I thought that using/wearing a watch, which would need no battery replacement, was/is an ecologically responsible and very cool thing to do. At $120, it seemed expensive, but I was overcome by a strange feeling of passion and curiosity in the name of the great Tesla (best human who ever lived) and so I ordered it. Full disclosure, I sweat bullets on the MUNI back then thinking someone would mug me for that watch. Now I ride the bus with a Rolex hanging out like IDGAF x). But I digress.

Upon removing the watch from its box for the first time after it arrived at my door, little did I know that I would from that day forward never go another day without enjoying a mechanical watch on my wrist. Case and point, at this very moment I am wearing my Breguet 5327. Thus commenced hours upon days of winding, listening, and viewing the watch under magnification so that I could figure out how everything worked. It might’ve been a poor excuse for a watch, but I could not stop staring at all of the moving parts, which had me mesmerized as if I was flying through the clockwork at the train station in the film Hugo.

Even in this bottom-of-the-barrel movement that had been manufactured in a place with vastly lower standards than Switzerland, I could see motion and beauty that had/has me transfixed on a level that was/is far greater than any basic aesthetic, technical, or functional appeal. I purchased a few loupes—5x, 10x, and 30x—to get a closer look. Since I still have this watch, I do not have to imagine what it feels like to dive into the minute details of every stationary and moving part. I can gaze upon, and through, the synthetic rubies right now and see a universe of possibility in an instrument that is only meant to tell us where the sun in the sky might be at any given moment so that we will know when to perform certain socially agreed upon human rituals. That said, with each of my watches I often engage in Active Imagination (a Jungian method by which one re-members or discovers knowledge sourced from the collective unconscious) and the imaginal entities that animate in my own mind, inspired by the wristwatch, tell endless, fascinating stories.

Two years after encountering that initiatory watch, owning cheap mechanical watches of various designs and complications (my experience of horology exposure 101), I finally took the plunge and bought my first fine timepiece. Now to be fair, I must mention that I spent a lot of time during those years defending my cheap watches as if owning something that costs more than a few hundred dollars US would never be necessary, like some poor souls still do, but eventually I grew up and made the sacrifices necessary to possess something serious. You need a thick skin in the watch world in order to interface with other Modern Day Watch Enthusiasts who are worth talking to. Surviving your own ignorance to become horologically knowledgeable is a noble and brutal journey through the underworld. And as Jung would have it, emerging from this underworld is simply another stage of individuation; an expansion of consciousness improving the abilities and life of the individual.

My first fine watch was the Omega Speedmaster Professional ref. 3577.50 “from the Moon to Mars” purchased on the 2nd of January in 2014. Obsessed with Elon Musk’s dream to travel to and terraform Mars, as a byproduct of being equally obsessed with Nikola Tesla, this was a watch that not only met all of my horological desires but also instantly possessed a multiverse of meaning for me. I imagined that one day I would take this watch with me on a public transport to the Red Planet. Elon wants to die on Mars, and quite frankly, so do I. To me this watch was so expensive (for me at the time) and so perfect that there would never be a reason to own anything else. Again, little did I know that I would be very wrong about that. Enter the “Coke.”

The Rolex GMT-Master II 16710 Coke began to burrow into my mind as I continued to scour the internet for the best deals on fine watches of all kinds. Every single day I was on eBay, Chrono24, watchestobuy, watchuwant, Crown & Caliber, Jomashop, The RealReal… You name it, if the site was selling fine watches, I was keeping tabs. Apologies to anyone I missed. By this time I was reading magazines, blogs, and watching all sorts of videos that were giving me a fairly exhaustive exposure to what was out there and who was buying/selling certain kinds of timepieces in certain categorical brackets. My aim was/is to understand watches on a deep psychological level as they affect the experiences of others and of course my own Self. Not just to be a numbers guy who can flash the timepiecs but say almost nothing meaningful about them. I must confess that it is important to know that, in regards to my personality type (INFP), I operate heavily by listening to my own intuition, and I could not shake this watch; just as I could not shake the Mars. There was more than just the analysis and process of elimination, it was something like a powerfully religious magnetism. The Coke was coming to me in my dreams. I have the dream journal to prove it! However, that’s in my dissertation. On a number of occasions I placed offers on a Coke, but came up with nothing because either a) the seller was shady, or b) I just couldn’t get the price or set where I wanted it. Dealing with watch sellers can be tricky, unlike being face to face with your local AD, so it’s important to be patient and cautious; to not be so excited about that exact watch you’re hunting that you get taken for a ride.

Then finally the day came when I saw a great deal for a clearly authentic Coke (gotta have that paperwork) in amazing condition and I made an offer that stuck. Again, I thought I was going to be done forever. That this was the collection of a lifetime. I had unique Speedmaster that almost no one else had and I had a Coke, which is a highly respected and desired timepiece across the globe. I chose the GMT because I could use it to track 3 time zones more efficiently than on any other timepiece, including world timers, and this came in very handy with all of the traveling and international communicating that I do. Not to mention, the whole design of the watch and color scheme is unusually attractive and versatile (still my favorite Rolex, aside from material objections), but I had not ever seen one in the metal. On a flight home from Cyprus I ran into a guy who was wearing one. I asked him if I could see it and of course he obliged. I have pictures to prove it (see below). I was wearing my Moon to Mars and just knew that the Coke would complete the circle for me. The one thing that I did not really take into account until my own Coke arrived was the size, which didn't register on that agonizing flight back to the US from Cyprus, where I had attended an amazing conference on Time and the Psyche. The conference was a magical experience, but I do not recommend that anyone fly a cumulative 44 hours just to have 5 days on the ground, no matter where you are going.

I ordered my 16710 from 1989 at a great price in pristine condition with papers and when it came, I was bewildered. It seemed so small! Was it actually fake? Did I get bamboozled? Impossible. All of this time I had been looking at huge blown up pictures of the watch and assumed it had the same presence as a Submariner, but there it was, 100% authentic and smaller than I expected. I wanted that Submariner-style crown, big and chunky, but after a while the size of the 16710 crown began to make sense and the tasteful nature of this specific piece became clearer from one day to the next.

I spent so much time examining this Coke, to make sure that it I hadn’t made a mistake, that synchronistically every aspect of its charm became powerfully apparent and intoxicating beyond belief. I had been wearing obnoxiously large watches with Chinese tourbillons that dwarfed even my Speedmaster and now finally the curse was lifting. I saw the light. Praise the gods! Certain watches worked for certain wrist sizes and certain moments in life. Wearing a watch that is too big for you is simply childish and lacking in discipline and taste, just like believing that there is a god that is literally real. This Rolex functioned as training wheels for wearing watches that actually fit properly and looked correct for my physical build and personality type. I remember thinking that the bracelet was too narrow and that the case of the watch only covered the surface area of my wrist, which made it feel like there wasn’t enough watch there, but in reality it was a match made in mythological, alchemical heaven. To this day I still think that the textural design and character of that vintage Oyster bracelet is better than the new 904L iteration and that the 116710 is right on the line of just barely being not too big. Unless you’re deliberately trying to be a clown, a dinner plate on the wrist is no bueno.

In all of my idealism, I thought that the Coke and the Mars were going to be my life companions, but alas we never really do finish growing and developing. Especially when we finally meet that special someone! Enter the Kwan.

Part 3

It was my great fortune to synchronistically meet (a story for another time), date, and ultimately marry my wife, the magnificent Jane Kwan, who for better or for worse has supported me through this transformational journey that is watch collecting. She was kind enough to be fascinated at first, and is now at least tolerant, but when I began to show her how you could actually store value or even potentially make a little money with the acquisition and sale of certain timepieces, she started to pay attention. Chinese people, like those of my Jewish heritage, love a reliable investment opportunity. I made it my goal to abandon hunting “good deals” on a wide range of watches and began hunting the exact watches that I would personally want to own and wear (not just stick in a vault), but only if the price was extraordinary or unusually fair. The Internet has made this relatively easy, if you’re willing to put in the time, and so I scoured the entire visible market for what I felt would be the perfect watch. Long story short, I discovered and then began to obsess over and follow/hunt the Patek Philippe Calatrava 5153G-001. Believe me when I tell you that I have written many pages about why this watch is, to me, the perfect dress watch, if not the perfect watch all around, aside from not being as durable as a Rolex, but again I digress. To be honest, this watch was my holy grail (a subject that I have expounded upon in other places as possibly the single most abused horology term aside from “in-house”) and I thought that I would never get to see it in my lifetime.

One day I found the Calatrava for sale online at a price that was unbelievable. My wife is almost painfully patient, and so we watched the piece sit on the website for nearly a month, while I nearly fell apart with anxiety waiting for her to make a choice. In the end, her instincts were right because the price continued to go down. But I really could not comprehend why no one was buying it. When we made the phone call to see about a best offer, we were able to take the price down even lower and so acquired the watch well below value thanks to my wife’s belief and investment in me, your humble watch hunter. Blasting into the side of this mountain precipitated a landslide to follow.

Not long after that my wife wanted something that she could wear every day. I had been hunting the Rolex Datejust 116234 with black dial, because it is my favorite iteration of the DJ and was able to find that watch well below value also. I thought it might be a bit large for her, but when it arrived it was a perfect fit at 36mm. While the watch is very cool, and occasionally I’ll sneak it away from her to wear it for a little while, it doesn’t make the cut for a perfect collection for me. I needed my watch collection to devour the catalogue of essential horological functions and representations.

However, I was jealous of the almost white-gold looking oyster bracelet and thus I faced a dilemma. The call to adventure was back! I realized that I could own both my Mars and Coke or I could sell them and own the singular Rolex GMT-Master II 116710 BLNR as basically an even trade (at the time), a watch that I still think is slightly less appealing aesthetically than the Coke as it at that time pertained to my personality, but possesses the ultimate in materials ever released from Rolex. I needed some time to think about this. Rolex’s alchemy game had become massively stronger than where it was in 1989. A few weeks later, in Honolulu, I was flipping through one of the tour books and when I turned it over to look at the back, there it was: the BLNR. Synchronicity, as usual, was determined to prevail. Now, I know that this watch is heavily advertised, possibly more than Tag or Hublot if that’s possible, but at that moment I felt like I was looking at a picture of a long-lost friend. The time had come to pull the trigger. I had spent several lovely days swimming in the ocean with my Coke, and now it was time to let it go.

The beach I frequented during my stay in Honolulu. Anyone who has been there knows where it is ;).

A shot of my Coke in Honolulu on the way to get some Spam Musubi!

The rosary bracelt pictured here was acquired in Cyprus, gifted to me by the great Angeliki Yiassemides (author of “Time & Timelessness”), not long before I managed to acquire my Coke. The meaning is strong in this image…

The book in the hotel room demanding that I trade up.

Horology boutiques... Always calling me…

Impossible to find one with black dial in a boutique, I spent some time admiring this beauty in white before that time came when my wife made a dream become reality.

With a heavy heart, I managed to part with my first fine watch and my first Rolex, selling them for fair market prices. Finding the BLNR for a steal is basically impossible, especially if you’re looking to buy within a relatively tight timeframe (aiming to acquire the watch mere months before moving to Copenhagen), so I found the best deal I could with a complete set and as planned basically traded about the same amount of money for those two watches to buy the one BLNR. This was good enough for me and my wife because it is still holding around the same value I invested and I basically had the experience of buying a brand new Rolex with a complete set minus stepping foot inside of an Authorized Dealer, an experience that is not at all important to a watch hunter like me; at least not at this time of life, but maybe later when I have established myself and I can afford that level of treat.

I honestly thought that I wouldn’t be as happy with the BLNR, as with the Coke, because black and red is so much more “me” along with other reasons and qualities (yadda yadda yadda, as Jane is fond of saying), but when it came I was filled with excitement. I opened the box and there it was: my long-lost friend whom I had been missing for the gods know how long. Most call it the Batman, I knew immediately that this was to be my R2D2. It doesn't matter that so many others own it or that the adverts were drilling into my brain. Consolidating to this watch was possibly the best horological decision I’ve ever made because although there was still a lingering color objection, I suddenly had a monstrously better watch to wear every day that met every single other checkpoint I felt one could demand from a daily-wear: 1. 904L steel, which really does feel like wearing white gold, but not quite as heavy a. Something that can take the hits and scratches and will withstand polishing dramatically better 2. White gold hands and indices, which contrast perfectly against the black dial 3. Blindingly bright blue lume, which my wife prefers to her green lume and makes it easy to tell the time under any circumstances aside from maybe actual blindness 4. The blued Breguet overcoil hairspring in the tried and true 3186 movement, something I don't even need to see to appreciate 5. The 5mm comfort link, which is a huge design leap forward compared to the oversized and floppy comfort extension on the original Oyster bracelet 6. GMT aligned clicks, which didn’t really ever seem to line up perfectly with the 16710 7. And most important of all, the very first two-color Cerachrom bezel, completing, to me, the most wearable, useful, and legible timepiece ever made 8. When you consider that this watch not only embodies everything you’d want and nothing you don’t, it’s easy to excuse the blue and simply hope for the red to come through someday 9. Finally, in review, this watch contains the best of every Rolex white metal: 904L steel, white gold, and platinum. As such, it is an alchemical masterpiece; and it has that chunky Submariner-style Triplock crown! Now I like both crowns for different reasons.

People have been calling it the Batman, and I get that. I’m a huge Batman fan and wouldn’t try to change the moniker even if I could, but for me it is the R2D2 riding along with me as I pilot this time machine we call a human body. My consciousness is the Luke inside of this Incom T-65 X-wing Starfighter and my 116710 R2D2 is the choice navigator, always down to take a beating for the rebellion ;).

So now I had a BLNR and a Calatrava shared with my wife (plus her 116234 to enjoy when she isn’t wearing it), completing two out of four watches of a complete set that I call “a holy quaternity.” What more could a man ever hope for? Would I really ever need to break a sweat over more than these two watches to complete the ultimate collection? I even had access to my favorite Datejust when my wife wasn’t wearing it, even though it does not fit the bill for my personal living symbol of wholeness of Self. My little wrist R2D2 and our white gold Darth Vader seemed like a complete set all by themselves. And yet, there was more to come, and rightly so!

My wife and I moved to Copenhagen so that she could attend DTU to earn her MA in Architecture. Being the unreasonably lucky guy that I am, I got to tag along and spend my days exploring one of the coolest (and happiest) cities in the world whilst writing my dissertation on psychology and horology. Several months in, after spending day after day chatting with awesome folks on MDWE, a gentleman put a Speedmaster “Legendary Moon Watch” ref. 311.30.42.30.01.005 complete set in basically new condition up for sale. A discussion about how this boilerplate design was so perfect it’s boring was going around and so at first I wasn’t too keen on the watch. I remembered my Mars and thought that the original Moon Watch was too plain and too common. However, the more I looked at it the more I realized what it had to offer. So many guys were/are going in for that vintage chronograph with the running seconds and 30 minute register without the hour register, which is a great and classic and traditional watch concept/discipline, but I need the hours! Even if it challenges aesthetics and purity. Honestly, purity has never really been my thing ;). Authenticity is a whole other kettle of fish! So then what I realized was, this was not going to be a watch that I spent time looking at during the day. This was a Good Night Watch that needed/needs to be useful in the dark. What better watch for darkness and time writing/recording/chrono-scoping than a boilerplate Speedmaster?!

The price was fair and I could certainly get most if not all of my money back if I needed to sell it, so I figured, why not experience the moon watch as a complete package in all of its boring glory. Sure, it’s no Moon to Mars and the literature won’t come in Japanese with a dedication to one of the world’s greatest artists, Leiji Matsumoto, but it would still be qualified by NASA for space missions and there were lots of other very cool accessories that would be fun to explore. Not to mention the history, which I must say ought to be valued well above just one spectacular artist. I pulled the trigger and the watch and its enormous packaging were at my Danish door within a few days. Upon opening the display box, a feeling came over me that I did not expect. The watch was/is so much nicer than the Moon to Mars, so much more sober and less cartoonish (not really an insult, actually accurate), and it instantly felt like it belonged on my wrist and that it would blend in like some kind of chameleon-like symbiotic creature. Almost instantly I finally knew what this watch was for.

While the Speedmaster had been and is still being used for outer space missions, I would be and am using this watch for INNER space missions. I sized the bracelet, which was a joy because it came/comes with screw end-caps rather than the basic link pins, placed the watch on my wrist and then started the chronograph right before going to sleep. When I woke up in the middle of the night to journal my dreams, I knew almost exactly how long I had been asleep, which really helped me to prioritize my time so that I wouldn’t wake up so much that I wouldn’t be able to return to slumberland. After finishing my journaling, I started the chronograph again, went back to sleep, and when I woke up I could see that I had gotten the eight-ish hours I needed to be rested enough for the day. I’m sure some of you go through the process of sleeping for eight hours without even thinking about it, but my dream life is so active that it is easy for me to lose track of how long I’ve been asleep, so this watch became an instantly useful tool that I can’t live without, just like the BLNR. And because it’s manually wound, I don’t have to stress out the winding train of an automatic chronograph; plus I have the pleasure of winding a watch every morning as the third thing I do after photographing the dial and resetting the chronograph. What a sweet ritual for a watch enthusiast!

My collection was complete. Right? I had my R2D2, which would go with me everywhere during the day, and I had my Good NIght Watch, which would track my sleep intervals and follow me into my dreams. And when it came time to celebrate something special, the Darth Vader (Calatrava) would take its place on my wrist under a cuff. Who could ask for anything more? There was only one slight problem. A large part of my journey after receiving that first mechanical wristwatch was exploring RGM in depth, which led me to Breguet. While I wasn’t sold on the idea of spending big money for a tourbillon since the science shows that it essentially has no real effect on accuracy, there was an element to watchmaking that I had fallen in love with before I even considered owning a fine watch of my own: guilloché.

RGM makes a killer tourbillon (reminiscent of a Speake Marin/Hamilton hybrid), let’s not mince words, only paralleled by the likes of Breguet, Patek Philippe, and Greubel Forsey (honorable mentions, Louis Moinet and Jaeger-LeCoultre - that one’s for Tim Mosso), and does some outstanding guilloché work with their own rose machine/lathe in Lancaster, PA. However, if you’re going to really tighten the restraints on a collection that is meant to be perfect (a true holy quaternity), there’s really no other choice than to go with the godfather of the practice: Breguet; arguably the most important historical figure/alchemist in watchmaking, and the inventor of many components that even the so-called “holy trinity” (lame designation, because Christianity is for people who don’t want to read more books—funny/not funny) still benefit from today. Hence I controversially argue that Breguet completes the holy quaternity and in many ways is still on top of PP, VC, and AP as the senex manufacturer (Harlan MDWE, bless his heart, will of course agree–love you, mean it). By this time I had visited so many boutiques, Tourbillon SF being one of my favorites, that I was saturated with the knowledge of what Breguet and other top-end (not just high-end) watch companies had to offer. Out from behind the stormy clouds of tourbillons and Jacquet Droz and Blancpain and A. Lange & Sohne and De Bethune and Ulysse Nardin came a piece that on any other day I would’ve ignored.

The Calatrava that was/is already in our possession does in fact have a guilloché black sunburst dial, but I wanted something that had/has/emanates the vibrant, timeless energy of 18th century watchmaking tradition, radiating from its finely crafted alchemical masterpiece of a dial and case. I had the opportunity to experience the skeletonized Breguet perpetual calendar tourbillon, but there was something missing even with that watch. Again, size and money are meaningless and relative. It was when I finally had a chance to take a close look at the 5327 that I saw that in any class for any money, this watch had/has it all. It has one of the most extraordinary complications ever invented, the perpetual calendar. It has moon phase, which is hugely important in psychology as a principle of divine consciousness. It has power reserve, which is arguably unnecessary on an automatic watch, but with the layout of the power reserve, moon phase, and date register at six o’clock, the 5327 pays perfect homage to the notorious automatic (perpétuelle) quarter-repeating watch with dumb (à toc) repeater from the late 18th century. This was/is the Breguet to own! Sitting in an office piled with books, including volumes about Breguet and the lovely publication that was created for The Legion of Honor in San Francisco, when they had their Breguet exhibition and lectures, I found myself having a full experience of awakening to the truth of yet another wristwatch. Except this time it was THE ONE. The only... This time, without a doubt, it was THE watch to end all watches, for me. I had done the work. I had read the books, scoured the Internet, been to the boutiques, met or at least studied the people, and in the end the Breguet Perpetual Calendar Classique 5327 presented itself as the answer I was looking for from both the multiverses of horology and psychology: all of the craftsmanship, all of the technology, all of the meaning, and all of the enjoyment from wearing one could ever ask for. Period, paragraph, life mission accomplished. Except, I didn't have the money x). That solution, which came later, was the real blessing.

Before I get into that, on a more somber note, I would like to mention that compared to Breguet’s latest QP, the ref. 5447, Breguet made an unfortunate design decision that is not in keeping with the more traditional layout. Maybe it’s great for marketing, but it does two things: departs from the classique tradition in a way that is unbearably modern, and treads dangerously toward cheapening the name of A.L. Breguet. Swapping power reserve for retrograde month was a particularly unfortunate decision, almost as undesirable as the choice to switch the angle of the moon phase to a less interesting and, I would contend, invasive vertical position. While that dial might be slightly more efficient in terms of the flow of reference and legibility, it is far from an upgrade and has lost that original 18th century charm. I’d wager that Breguet himself might agree. As such, this specific reference, the 5327, continues to wear the crown (pun intended) as what I feel is the greatest Breguet QP wristwatch ever made. That being said, I have dubbed the watch my Holy Grail, together with the Speedmaster, the GMT, and the Calatrava, this completes my personal Holy Quaternity. However, there is always a “fifth element,” intentionally playing on a reference to the film of the same name from 1997. That fifth element (the eternal energy of love and passion) to me is the transcendent holy grail, which is a watch that is so extraordinary and so perfect for the individual that it doesn’t even exist yet. The super rich uber-collectors will know what I’m talking about: a subscription piece that perhaps one’s preferred watchmaker doesn’t even know how to make. For me, in all seriousness, this would be the currently imaginary and absurd Greubel Forsey Quantième Perpétuel Chronograph Grande Sonnerie in a 41mm platinum case. Although, I’d take a GF chronograph, as long as it’s hand-wound. Could it ever possibly get any better than that? I seriously doubt it. At least for an individual like myself.

And so recently I found this perfect Breguet at a ridiculously low price. I mean a price that normally only dealers get from other dealers. This watch needed to be procured. My wife was not about to invest another substantial sum into a wristwatch since she felt that she had already diversified in that direction far enough with the Patek. And so she suggested that I ask my father if he would be interested in making the investment. After lengthy explanations over email and handling some obvious objections that a non-horology scholar might have, he generously agreed to help me make the investment to both aid in my research and hold value that only presents itself once in a lifetime. Due to this generosity and collective cooperation, it is my privilege and responsibility to care for this Breguet as the final piece to my horological individuation puzzle. The mandalas to complete the supreme mandala of the current manifestation of my own archetypal Self have been assembled like Voltron. And now that the collection is complete, my mission is to take exhaustive photographs, engage in active imagination (alchemical hermeneutics) with each piece and the whole collection for my research, and to cook it all down in the vas alembic of consciousness to create my very own horological opus.

Here’s an example of what enters my imagination when I engage in reverie (Active Imagination or Alchemical Hermeneutics) around one of the watches (often including its literature), offering a lingering (reverie) around or daydreaming into the Breguet dial: The guilloché pattern for the power reserve looks like the waves of the sea or the ocean. I am reminded of the image of the solar barge in Liber Novus p. 55. Aptly placed, it is above the other complications, next to the moon phase, which is obscured by a hand carved cloud pattern: the essence of the imagination. So the heavens and the waters, forged in fire and carved into earth or metal. The pattern in the date register is that of a waterfall or descending cliffs, reaching down into the underworld. All of these being supported by the primary dial hand carved rose lathe or rose machined pyramids (clou de paris). The pyramids or sacred geometry of transcendent consciousness. Within the big mandala that is the watch dial are 5 smaller mandalas: the moon phase, which embodies our human-centric lunar story and mythology; the leap year, which makes it possible for me to see the accurate date for the rest of my life without adjusting the timepiece; the month, a centered indicator of the positions of the gods; the day, a de-centered indicator of the positions of other gods; and finally, the date, a concept invented by people who want to control time and other people, to no avail one hopes. Might be best to simply let go of that craving for control, let people be peaceful unto themselves and allow time to flow with the Force of Nature. A dream within a dream... The watch does have Breguet’s signature coin edge or fluted sides, so the watch is to be treated as a sort of super sacred coin. This coinage or coin edge appears to be symbolic of the archetypal pillar: the pillars that held Samson, the pillars of Rome, and the pillars of current modern civilization. However, even after this current human experiment is dust and rubble, the pillars of time will stand as strong as they always have and it will never have mattered that humans were a part of it. A testament from the Antikythera mechanism.

It is possible that I may actually have to sell the Breguet after I am finished with my research sometime next year, unless by some miracle I make enough money to completely own the whole thing by myself, but that is not important because all that matters is that for a time in my life I had, in my possession, a perfect collection. The Holy Quaternity! “For a few minutes, they were mine. That is enough.” https://youtu.be/c9O1VVeMzhc Charade (8/10) Movie CLIP - The Most Valuable Stamp (1963) HD.

It doesn’t matter how it got there and it doesn’t matter if I don’t get to keep it. What matters is that, since we can’t take any of this with us to the grave anyway, I have the priceless gift of the experience. This was a group effort. My sacrifices and investment were/are largely those of time, obsessive research, and unearthing opportunities, which in reality is just as valuable as the money others allowed me to use to assemble this project. From the depths of passion, love, and family, I have been made individuated and whole, for now. Through psychology and horology I have healed myself in ways most people cannot imagine and have had the great fortune to inspire others. Countering the cruel trick of the perpetual calendar complication (never being able to live long enough to see it need an adjustment), I am filled with gratitude for what I have had the privilege to do with the time I have been given. Through bringing all of these elements together, I have found true happiness and may for a time be with this imperfect, perfect collection to remind myself of the cost involved in striving to create something truly special: a genuine opus, if not magnum opus. No one can do it alone. We require relationships to individuate, as Jung said, and at the ripe age of 37, I know that my watch collection and my Self are at last in harmony.

Conclusion

Watch collecting is not just some silly thing men do with their extra money, nor is it about amassing a monstrous volume of different examples for the sake of becoming your own museum. Watch collecting is as much an art as is watchmaking itself or the creation of any sculpture or painting. It requires focus, dedication, precision of craft, and most of all it requires a determination to produce the best possible result from the knowledge that has been gained and the resources—people or otherwise—that have been procured.

I am continuing to work on my dissertation on psychology and horology while figuring out where I want to focus my career from here on out. It seems like Tesla, Inc. is the most logical choice, so we’ll see if they or a watch boutique will have me. As far as this collection goes, what I know is that I will always have my R2D2 because it is the one watch that I can’t live without that can go anywhere: land, sea, air, and space. Depending on what the future holds for me career-wise, I might have to live without the Speedmaster and just use a beater chrono until I rebuild my value strength, since it takes quite a bit more to hold a collection like this all on one’s own. The Calatrava will be here because it is my wife’s investment and my privilege to enjoy as part of our partnership. However, it is worth bearing in mind that none of these things are permanent and that any amount of time being in ownership of the completed holy quaternity set is ultimately more than enough of an accomplishment no matter how long you keep it together. It takes a lot of work to learn about all of these manufacturers and iterations and value propositions. It’s even harder to get clear which ones matter to you on a profound level to the point that you would choose four and exclude all others; especially when considering that owning these watches is a choice that was made at the exclusion of any other products, such as cars, houses, hoarding currency, and any other type of man-made creation. And then to have them all just sort of casually ticking away on your desk is a luxury that very few people will ever know/experience. For that I cannot thank the people who believed/believe in me enough. I am lucky, I am grateful, I have my wife and family to thank for everything, in addition to other friends and enthusiasts who were willing to engage my passion, and I hope that what I have learned and my story will be something that is paying my fortune forward: giving back to the collective community of folks who simply wish to be their best selves; to be good citizens, as Plato might’ve imagined it.

In review and in final conclusion, this is an imperfect watch collection that to me is perfect, in my estimation from the research I’ve done and the experiences that I have had:

It is my personal gnosis, based on my research in depth psychology and horology, that there are two kinds of quaternities (not trinities, because a trinity is really just an incomplete system, lacking the feminine principle, among other things) in the horological universe: 1. The top four watchmakers in the Swiss watchmaking industry a. Breguet b. Patek Philippe c. Vacheron Constantin d. Audemars Piguet 2. The top four timepieces in an individual collection a. The Good Night Watch i. A chronograph worn to bed to time sleep intervals ii. An instrument that centers one’s being between sleeping and waking b. The R2D2 i. The most essential and sturdy of all of the timepieces ii. A trusty companion for all of life’s terrains c. The Darth Vader i. The finest example of elegant simplicity with a touch of violence ii. A watch that possesses a seemingly invisible and powerful Force d. The Holy Grail i. The watch you will wear on your deathbed that will outlast you ii. The QP is a cruel trick because it offers a feature that you will never live to enjoy: not having to adjust the watch for over 150 years. iii. A watch that satisfies one from ever wanting to buy anything better, for now ;).

Quick note: I’ve mythologized part of this collection with Star Wars metaphors because that is the best story I grew up with: the futuristic mythological vision of Joseph Campbell only barely understood by George Lucas (as is evident in his prequel trilogy), based on his seminal “The Hero with a Thousand Faces.” One could easily substitute other similar archetypes for the designations that I have commandeered. Whatever gets you there. It’s all imaginal, but inarguably objective in terms of the archetypes.

As for the selected manufacturers, my opinion here is highly controversial. Breguet should be at the top, Swatch or no Swatch, because Breguet is the Grandfather of all of these other innovators. A Breguet watch lacks nothing in quality and discovery that these other companies are engaged in and in fact, in addition to the legacy/pedigree/history of invention, Breguet is still making timepieces that exceed the expectations of any connoisseur. Every little detail is given the utmost care and contemplation. This does not, of course, take into account watchmaking in other regions. Germany, A. Lange & Sohne in particular, is making watches that appear to be exceeding even the Swiss standards of excellence. This also does not take into account even conceivably more exciting independent watchmakers and inventors like Greubel Forsey, Roger W. Smith, nor even the late George Daniels.

Final thoughts, for now:

There’s a point at which, once you’ve hunted your favorite watch for it’s best price, you stop thinking about what the watch is worth and you begin to think more in terms of what the watch is. For example, I could stand outside in shorts and a t-shirt sipping a beer while admiring a watch that retailed once for $65-70k, but what I’m really thinking about is, 1. how does it fit my wrist? 2. how long will it last? 3. when will it need service? 4. how legible is this dial really? 5. do I like the weight and the fit of the band (strap or bracelet)? 6. could this have been designed better in terms of how it handles a diverse set of lighting situations? 7. was this really the right choice for the lug length? Cheers, Marc Goldberg ;). 8. could the moon phase have been tooled to be more accurate. 9. why isn’t the power reserve exact? 10. Are there any flaws in the guilloché? I’m looking at you, FPJ! 11. Why did they design the clasp like this as opposed to the Patek clasp method? 12. And sure, this dial is amazing with all of the guilloche patterns, but I can’t really see them without magnification because a) I’m getting old and my eyesight isn’t what it used to be and b) the beauty and contrast is only apparent under certain lighting, which makes the dial look washed out at all other times; not nearly as aesthetically pleasing as the Patek, which always looks good even when its sunburst guilloché pattern disappears into the black. 13. However, the most important question of all is four-fold: a. what did/does this watch and the work mean to the watchmaker? b. what did/does this watch mean to the manufacturer? c. what did/does this watch mean to the boutique collective? d. and what does this watch mean to the consumer in every sense: aesthetically, spiritually, historically, and depth psychologically?

What’s next?

There are many watches that I still find attractive and many watches to come from the various great houses that might cause me to fall in love with one watch more than another, but to be honest I seriously doubt it. I mean, the only watch I want more than my BLNR in its category is a Coke version. The only watch I want more than my Speedmaster in its category is another Speedmaster of far rarer origin and pedigree, a vintage example maybe or who knows. As far as the Patek and Breguet are concerned, there are no better iterations of those watches and there never will be. Finally, for the ultimate grail watch, I believe that it has to be something so amazing that it doesn’t even exist yet. It has to be a dream or a fantasy that one chases and pines over until one’s heart is so broken that one cannot even leave the house without wishing it was either already on the wrist or to finally acquire the watch. As mentioned before, for me, that would be a Greubel Forsey QP chrono with moon phase and grand sonnerie; or yeah, I’ll simply take a GF chronograph, because that is what would replace the super boring yet perfect Speedmaster. Yes, the only thing that will replace the Speedmaster for me is the currently non-existent, fantasy hand-wound Greubel Forsey Chronograph. Sadly, as far as I know, it’s just not going to happen and that hurts me deeply. I want, after I’ve amassed an impossible amount of wealth near the end of my life, well beyond having had the opportunity to help others, to fund what I believe to be the greatest wristwatch ever made and while I may not be the man to do it, it is the fact that I want this for the whole of humanity and my Self that I put this energy out into the world and wish it will happen to someone someday. What you buy is a vote. When you make a purchase, it casts a ballot. I vote for fine horology all day every day. Everything else is an accessory to horology and life, even psychology and fancy electric cars, in spite of my obsession with Tesla’s inventions and values.

The argument could be made that this is not a perfect watch collection because not all complications are represented. For example, I do not have a minute repeater, much less a grande sonnerie. To that I say, I’m not dead yet. At this time of life I can still see (you know, literally, with my physical eyes) and there is this amazing thing, lume, you’ve heard of it, that makes it possible for me to tell the time in the blackest of darkness, so sure, I would love to own a chiming watch, but they’re not only way out of reach, but I don’t have any real use for them in the same way that there is value and use for the watches that I have selected (see what is of value and of use in Liber Novus). Will I ever own a QP chrono minute repeater grande sonnerie, with all of the bells and whistles like power reserve, moon phase, and sunrise sunset and equation of time someday? I certainly hope so!

P.S. Synchronistically, after finishing this essay, I went downstairs and found this puzzle to solve for my horological and mildly intellectual enjoyment :).

Okay, I swear this is it:

Some might ask, “so then what are your values, exactly, spending all of that time, and yours and other people's’ money, on wristwatches?” Don’t you have a job, a house, kids, a car, money, etc.? The answer is this: 1. I’m courting the job that I want to do until my heart stops: Tesla, a watch boutique, or something like that. 2. Having a house is not important to me, but maybe someday we’ll have one. Until then, my time and value will always be dedicated to horology in some way/shape/form. 3. Kids are just more people. People die. Watches are forever. 4. Cars are for suckers, unless you own a Tesla or a really sweet mechanical car, as is essentially the same case with watches. I ride a bike, and not a nice one, a cheap one, because I’d rather spend the money on timepieces. 5. I’d rather have the watch of my dreams than any amount of money. Money is just an imaginary number. The right watch is an instant and immortal best friend. a. To further make this case, look at the gentlemen at auction who are spending more more money with reckless abandon to own the perfect watch for them. Money is essentially meaningless outside of holding value to acquire goods and services. A watch is a deeply psychological and spiritual enterprise for those who really get it, and so it makes sense that one would spend it all to acquire the ultimate alchemical composition that bridges one’s “I” with the Self archetype—via an horological mandala—through the chain of watchmaker, to manufacturer, to dealer, to owner; or as Patek Philippe would have it, caretaker.

Thank you for reading.

The super sacred Holy Quaternity in all of its gorgeous horolgical glory!

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