Create successful ePaper yourself
Turn your PDF publications into a flip-book with our unique Google optimized e-Paper software.
There are several unenviable sensations in human experience.<br />
Amongst the worst of these are: receiving inadvertent blows<br />
from metal objects to one’s reproductive area; feeling as if your<br />
volcano-hot Indian meal has burnt a hole through your digestive tract;<br />
and the sucker-punch realization that you’ve been sold a fake watch.<br />
To be fair, the first two are largely avoidable as long as you are not<br />
trying to make it onto Thrasher magazine’s Instagram feed and do not<br />
overestimate your Herculean ability to withstand the incendiary chillies<br />
of the Indian subcontinent. If, however, you take the plunge into<br />
vintage Rolex collecting, chances are, you will experience the third —<br />
especially if you’d started buying vintage Rolexes 15 years ago as I did<br />
when there was little to no information available to you. Indeed the few<br />
sources of information were ironically weighty tomes written by dealers<br />
so that they could set themselves up as voices of authority and sell you<br />
basically anything they felt like, as was the case with me. However, I<br />
should state that things exist in marked contrast today, thanks to the<br />
rise of excellent, reputable and stand-up dealers like Eric Ku, Eric<br />
Wind, Andrew Shear, Phillips Perpetual, the boys at Analog/Shift and,<br />
if you’re into Omega, the Davidoff Brothers: these guys I would trust<br />
implicitly. But back in the early days of my collecting, the scene was a<br />
no man’s land of opinions often perpetuated by those who stood to gain<br />
the most from them.<br />
The following chronicles my journey related to the very first vintage<br />
watch I ever purchased: a 1675 OCC dial GMT that, from the very<br />
beginning, plagued me with one nightmare scenario after another — so<br />
much so that in the ensuing decade I put it out of my mind. Until one<br />
day, more than a decade later, I unearthed it and decided to examine<br />
it in the cold light of day, only to discover that all its faults still weighed<br />
heavily on me. When I approached the seller of the watch to address the<br />
matter, he proposed to exchange the dial with that of another watch.<br />
I would use the colloquialism “Frankenwatch”, but it was already a<br />
Frankenwatch to begin with. He also broached the idea to use all the<br />
available modern technology to bring this watch back to “new old stock”<br />
condition using modern refinishing techniques that have advanced<br />
significantly in recent years; the plan was to meticulously record each<br />
stage of this process for an article that he would write.<br />
Why have vintage watch restoration techniques evolved so rapidly?<br />
To respond to nothing less than a seismic shift in collectors’ tastes.<br />
When the vintage craze first started gaining momentum about 15 years<br />
ago, buyers — especially those in their nascent forays into vintage Rolex<br />
— would purchase based on the superficial appearance of watches<br />
relative to their pricing. As such, whether it was a Double Red Sea-<br />
Dweller or a Paul Newman Daytona, less discerning collectors would<br />
tend to purchase pretty, often refinished or polished watches based<br />
usually on asking price. Then an interesting thing began to happen.<br />
Following the 2008 financial crisis, people started to become a great<br />
deal more discerning about their vintage watches.<br />
Thanks to the Internet, the perception on vintage forums, at<br />
auction houses amongst the best-known dealers and the most<br />
respected collectors started to coalesce. Gradually one quality began<br />
to be prized above all others: originality — meaning watches in their<br />
original condition, which had never been polished but had dials that had<br />
140 VINTAGE