The world of watches is nothing but a series of conventions.

Why is it that no one can truly claim they buy and wear dive watches for the actual purpose of diving? Because the reality is that the vast majority of dive watches in history have likely never seen depths beyond two meters in their entire lifespan. We know that no one buys a dive watch with the intent of wearing it in the depths of the ocean, just as we know that Daytona owners are often not professional motorsport drivers, and those who wear Speedmasters are not necessarily planning a trip to the moon. That has never been the point.

We are talking about conventions, conventions we usually accept and upon which we base our judgments. In fact, has our fascination with the world of horology not been shaped by these pre-accepted conventions?

Let us review one or two of the primary conventions of the watch world.

The first convention: We do not need watches; we merely pretend that we do. This is not a bad one. To what part of the world does this passion cause harm? A watch is a fascinating thing. A small machine -whether quartz or mechanical- that no matter how hard its makers try, can never be built on the absolute cutting edge of modern technology. It is an ancient mechanical concept that, in its official duty of tracking time, will inevitably lag behind even the cheapest digital gadgets. But does this stop us? No, because almost all of us have accepted this convention. And we haven’t simply accepted it; this acceptance is so profound that we have built a relatively massive industry and market around it. Thus, the first convention works, and we remain committed to it.

The second convention: We may respect wearable gadgets, but we do not consider them “watches.” No, do not misunderstand; this is not a value system, but a simple categorization. It follows an uncomplicated logic. We believe a watch is something that was not built with the goal of being replaced by an upgraded version, nor is it destined to become completely useless and irrelevant a few years from now due to old software. This, too, is a convention that works. It is the same convention that leads the collective consciousness of watch enthusiasts to organically ignore products when a company like TAG Heuer, Louis Vuitton, or Hublot violates it by creating luxury smartwatches. Therefore, it seems this convention has also found its place. In the first step, we devote significant time to a new convention, and once its function is proven, we accept it.

So, where is the problem?

What Makes You a Dive Watch?

I want to talk about the subject of the “dive watch”, about the conventions built and accepted around this axis. What is our first convention regarding a dive watch? A relatively higher resistance to water pressure. Relative to what? The answer is simple: relative to other watches. How much is this “higher” resistance? Most other non-dress watches have a water resistance between 50 and 100 meters. Therefore, it is not a strange expectation for us to want dive watches to exceed 100 meters. If the most obvious and minimal convention of a dive watch is not to be applied to a dive watch, on what basis can we consider it one? Ha! I know exactly what the makers of watches like the Seiko 5 Sports and the Citizen Tsuyosa Shore would say to this question: The rotating bezel.

This is a habit that seems to be spreading: using the appearance of a dive watch on something that does not adhere to the first convention of a dive watch. Yes, I understand you might say, “Did Citizen or Seiko actually name these watches ‘divers’?” No, they didn’t. But the name isn’t that important. What matters is the prestige that a rotating bezel grants a watch, a prestige that undeniably comes solely from the dive watch. It is a well-established understanding that a rotating bezel is placed on a watch to clothe it in a diving aesthetic. There can be no other reason. But why do they accept the trouble of adding a rotating bezel yet fail to adhere to the primary convention? Likely for the sad reason that adding a screw-down crown increases production costs, and adding better gaskets makes the manufacturing process more complex. And most importantly, because it seems we are accepting this path of “internal reduction.”

The core of a dive watch is its resistance to water pressure, and its shell is the rotating bezel. This is a behavior, an approach, a worldview where, to achieve a “status of resemblance to a phenomenon,” we prefer to settle only for imitating its shell. Now, an argument might exist that does not consider the central core of something like a dive watch to be its higher water resistance, but rather sees the rotating bezel as its defining feature. That could be an answer, though I believe it is not an objective one. But if we accept that the primary identifier of a dive watch is its resistance to water ingress, then we are not drawing a false conclusion.

In Longing for the Aqualand and the SKX

Let us look at the new reference recently introduced by Citizen: a new model from the popular and incredibly successful Tsuyosa collection, whose impact on the watch market no fair observer can deny, is now equipped with a version “resembling” a dive watch. The original Tsuyosa model claimed to be nothing more than a sport watch with an integrated bracelet. But it could be said that now that this “Shore” model has been introduced, the Tsuyosa collection will likely not have a true dive watch, at least in the near future. For if a “real dive watch” were placed alongside the Shore, we could then comfortably call the entire premise of the Shore into question.

It is worth confessing with a bit of self-awareness that it seems Citizen itself was aware of this halfway treatment of the dive watch, as the name says it all: Shore, which is effectively neither fully land nor truly ocean. This is exactly the same problem I have with the Oris Divers Sixty-Five. But if I were to identify the biggest target of this critique, I must say nothing disappointed me as much as the SRPD collection released by Seiko as a faint attempt to replace the legendary SKX. It wasn’t a replacement, and we all know it.

Now, the most important question must be asked: Why does this even matter? We are talking about watches, about something that gains its relevance precisely by relying on these unwritten conventions. If we allow the disregard for conventions to enter our habits in the watch industry, it won’t be long before we see so-called “dive watches” with snap-back case backs.

We had better not get used to these shells. Let us leave such things to companies other than the makers of legends like the Aqualand and the SKX.

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What even is a “waterproof” watch?

It is no exaggeration to say that the issue of “water” is one of the most contentious topics in the watch world. From the confused customer trying to make a purchase to the inflated claims of salespeople, and the vague marketing copy designed to obscure rather than clarify, the relationship between a watch and moisture has rarely been truly defined.

In this article, I want to settle this debate once and for all: what does “waterproof” actually mean, and more importantly, does a “waterproof” watch even exist?

Let’s start with the last question: No, a “waterproof” watch is a non-existent phenomenon. This isn’t just my personal deduction; in fact, the European Union faced the same ambiguity decades ago. After extensive deliberation, it was ruled that watch companies should cease using the term “waterproof” in their advertising. Why? Because “waterproof” is an absolute term, and no product in a world governed by relativity should claim an absolute quality.

What does this mean in practice? Conceptually, “waterproof” implies that a watch has zero vulnerability to water, under any circumstances. This claim is fundamentally impossible. A watch is an assembly of multiple connected parts, a composite object. Can the impermeability of such a complex mechanism ever be “absolute zero”? Certainly not.

You need to know the vulnerable points

Before proceeding with the article, we must review a technical reality: how do vulnerabilities to external elements like water, dust, and steam actually find their way into a watch? It is crucial to understand this explanation correctly. When we talk about a structure like a wristwatch, we are essentially talking about a metal box constructed from several “joints,” all of which are established either through friction-fitting or screws.

Where exactly are these “joints” located? In a wristwatch, the primary joints exist at several points: the connection between the case back and the mid-case, the connection between the mid-case and the bezel, the connection between the bezel and the crystal, and the connection between the crown and the mid-case. These represent the “minimum” joints present in the vast majority of watches. This number increases in many cases if the watch features a chronograph (due to the pushers) or a perpetual calendar (due to the adjustment recessed pins).

Every single one of these joints is, in fact, an entry point for external elements. Furthermore, it is a major mistake to assume that when two metal surfaces are mated, the point of attachment is absolutely resistant to external elements. You and I may not be able to see a gap between the two parts, but water vapor molecules may easily pass through that microscopic clearance.

Expansion and contraction due to temperature fluctuations, deformation from minor daily impacts, and most importantly, the degradation of the washers and gaskets seated within these joints can easily create multiple vulnerable points for the ingress of external elements.

Now let’s get back to the article.

A few simple numbers that will definitely help

Today, manufacturers are required to use the term “Water Resistant” instead. This is far more accurate because “resistance” is inherently relative. This is why the phrase is almost always accompanied by a metric, such as 30m, 50m, or 100m.

Now, for the more important question: What does “Water Resistant to 30 meters” actually mean? Does it mean you can dive 30 meters into the ocean and expect your watch to survive? Again, no.

When you see this rating, it means that random samples from a production batch were taken to a laboratory, placed in isolated tanks, and subjected to static pressure equivalent to that depth for a few minutes. If the samples survive, the model earns its rating. However, we all know there is a world of difference between controlled laboratory conditions and the unpredictable pressures of real life.

Here is a general rule of thumb for your daily life:

• 30m Resistance: Safe for light rain.

• 50m Resistance: Can handle hand-washing or brief splashes.

• 100m Resistance: Suitable for surface swimming and snorkeling.

• 200m Resistance: Capable of handling professional swimming and high-impact water sports.

But what about the shower? The fluctuations in water temperature, the multidirectional pressure, and exposure to chemical detergents create such a high-stress environment for the watch’s gaskets that it is almost always recommended to avoid it.

To put it simply: “Waterproof” does not exist, but “Water Resistant” does. Because nothing is absolute, unless it’s a lie.

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Graph or Meter: a simple question

One of the most persistent errors in the world of horology is treating the terms “Chronograph” and “Chronometer” as synonyms. Many of us remember our school PE teachers wearing a device around their necks that we called a “Chronometer.” In reality, it wasn’t just not a “coronometer” (as some mispronounced it), but it wasn’t a Chronometer at all—it was a Chronograph. We’ve spent a lifetime confusing the two.

A Chronograph is a tool that measures a specific interval of time, the duration between the moment it is started and the moment it is stopped. Many watches are equipped with this complication. Chronograph watches can be quartz or mechanical and range in price from $5 to tens of thousands of dollars. The name itself reveals its function; Chrono(time) + Graph (to write/record): a time-recorder.

If I were to offer my own definition of a Chronograph, it would be this: the ability to measure a segment of time with a custom start and end point.

A Chronometer, however, is something entirely different. It is not a “tool” you use; it is a “status” or a feature a watch possesses. To claim this title, a watch must be submitted to an official testing institute to prove its precision through a series of rigorous trials.

A Swiss standard for your watch

The most prestigious of these institutes is the COSC (Contrôle Officiel Suisse des Chronomètres). Watches that pass their tests are labeled “COSC certified” or “Chronometer certified.” This serves as a diploma for timekeeping accuracy under various conditions. Again, the etymology tells the story; Chrono (time) + Meter (to measure): a time-measurer.

The COSC tests are legendary: for 15 days, a movement is tested in five different positions (dial up, dial down, and three vertical positions) and at three different temperatures (8°C, 23°C, and 38°C). The movement must maintain a daily accuracy of between -4 and +6 seconds. We are talking about a razor-thin 10-second window of permissible error.

Only after successfully navigating these tests can a watch bear the word “Chronometer” on its dial.

A common misunderstanding is that movements are born with this certificate. In reality, a watch brand typically purchases a movement and then sends it to the institute for testing under its own name.

It is also important to note that if a watch does not say “Chronometer,” it doesn’t necessarily mean it’s inaccurate. Obtaining COSC certification involves significant costs per unit, and some brands simply choose to skip the formal process to keep the retail price lower.

Finally, remember that it is not just a single prototype that undergoes these tests; every single individual watch of a certified reference must pass the 15-day trial. If your watch is a Chronometer, it has personally “survived” the COSC labs.

For any enthusiast or serious customer, respecting the vocabulary of horology is the first step toward a deeper understanding of this magnificent craft.

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Everyone loves Swatch Sistem51

If you are a watch enthusiast, the name Swatch is undoubtedly familiar: a historically pivotal brand and a powerhouse conglomerate that single-handedly spearheaded the rescue of the Swiss watch industry during the Great Quartz Crisis.

Interestingly, many seasoned collectors who own Patek Philippe, Cartier, or Rolex also reserve a spot in their collection for a remarkably affordable timepiece: the Swatch Sistem51. But why does the Sistem51, the automatic series from this industry giant, command such respect among professional horologists?

Typically, the “handmade” factor adds value to a timepiece. With the Sistem51, the opposite is true. It is the first automatic movement ever assembled entirely by robots, with its escapement even regulated by lasers. This represents the sheer genius and creativity of Swatch: a company without which a large portion of traditional Swiss watchmaking might not have survived the 20th century.

The plastic, the metal

The collection is divided into two categories: the original Sistem51 with plastic cases, and the Sistem51 Irony, typically featuring stainless steel. Beyond their more premium look, the Irony models offer a degree of serviceability. While the plastic models are hermetically sealed and thus non-repairable (though perfectly durable under reasonable use), the Irony models can be opened, allowing for a full movement replacement if necessary.

The name “Sistem51” refers to the movement’s 51 components. It utilizes ARCAP, a non-magnetic alloy of copper, nickel, and zinc. It is worth noting that ETA, the world’s largest movement manufacturer, is part of the Swatch Group, and the Sistem51’s architecture is rooted in their C10.111 caliber engineering.

I encourage you to explore the various Sistem51 references online, specifically paying attention to the movement’s visual appeal, which is visible through the transparent case back. Swatch’s ingenuity shines in the design of the automatic rotor. Instead of a traditional half-disk, they used a 360-degree transparent disk, weighted on one side. This creates the illusion that the rotor is floating as it spins, a brilliant aesthetic twist on a classic mechanical function.

When the collection debuted in 2013, critics dismissed the robotic production as a negative. However, as the technical intricacies and innovation became clear, even the skeptics were won over. In an industry thousands of years old, the birth of a truly original phenomenon is rare; sometimes, the sheer novelty of an idea on this scale becomes a virtue in itself.

Starting at around $150, the Sistem51 is a testament to the fact that one can step into the magnificent world of authentic horology at a reasonable cost, steering clear of counterfeits.

The hidden charms of not being good enough

One of my personal highlights of wearing a Sistem51 is the audible “whir” of the rotor. In high-end horology, a loud rotor is often seen as a flaw, but here, it serves as a charming reminder that you are wearing a “living” mechanical entity on your wrist.

If I were to point out a drawback, it would be the water resistance. Aside from the Scuba models, most Swatch watches are rated at 30 meters. In horological terms, this means they are only splash-resistant (rain or hand-washing). I believe higher water resistance would have significantly improved the watch’s “daily driver” status and longevity. However, we must acknowledge that increasing this rating might disproportionately raise production costs within a fully automated robotic process.

Lastly, because the movement is laser-regulated at the factory, it lacks a traditional regulator. This means the accuracy you get out of the box is what you will have for life; it cannot be manually adjusted by a watchmaker. Therefore, one shouldn’t be surprised or discouraged by slight fluctuations in timekeeping precision.

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A review of what we know as the cradle of watchmaking

Regardless of which historical vantage point one chooses, it is indisputable that by the early 19th century, Switzerland had claimed the mantle of the world’s primary timekeeper.

While nations like Germany (centered in Glashütte, Saxony), England (London), and the United States (Pennsylvania and Massachusetts) continued to export significant volumes, it was Switzerland that, decades after the Industrial Revolution, successfully branded itself as the “Cradle of Watchmaking.”

Fast forward to 1969: the global market witnessed the introduction of the first quartz watch, the Seiko Astron. Contrary to contemporary perceptions, Seiko’s battery-powered marvel initially cost thousands of dollars, at a time when a standard Rolex sold for roughly $250. Indeed, in the early 1970s, quartz technology was a luxury innovation. However, due to its reliance on electronic circuits and industrial automation, production costs soon plummeted toward zero.

As Japanese manufacturers flooded the market with affordable, hyper-accurate timepieces, the proud and rigid Swiss industry faced total bankruptcy. Within a few years, Switzerland lost nearly 80% of its workforce. The nation was on the verge of being wiped off the horological map until the government and major banks stepped in.

What do we know about Swatch’s true status and value?

A mission was defined: stop struggling in the “Eastern swamp” and save the remnants of Swiss watchmaking. An entrepreneur named Nicolas G. Hayek took charge of the rescue project. He orchestrated the merger of numerous failing brands, creating what would eventually become a powerhouse.

Though only a few “withered branches” remained of the once-vast Swiss forest, Hayek’s efforts slowly bore fruit. The merged companies shared technical resources to survive, and amidst this struggle, a definitive Swiss answer to the cheap Japanese quartz watch was born: Swatch.

When the colorful, plastic, and vibrant advertisements for Swatch hit television screens and magazines in the early 1980s, Japan did not expect such a rapid challenge to its dominance. History testifies that it was a masterstroke: what could be better than a youthful, reliable, and incredibly affordable watch produced in the “Cradle of Watchmaking”? It was the perfect counter-move.

Beyond the technical synergy of the merged companies, it was the immense capital generated by the global obsession with plastic Swatches that restored hope and momentum to the crisis-stricken Swiss industry. Eventually, in honor of this historic victory, the parent company was renamed the Swatch Group, ensuring that Europe’s escape from the “Quartz Crisis” would never be forgotten.

Today, when you look at the Swatch Group’s portfolio, names like Omega, Longines, Tissot, Hamilton, Rado, and Certina, it is vital to remember that they all owe their continued existence to the humble, plastic Swatch.

Crisis or revolution

In recounting the decades between the 1960s and 1990s, Switzerland uses the term “Quartz Crisis,” while Japan prefers “Quartz Revolution.” One hemisphere remembers bankruptcy and despair; the other, a glorious ascent to the top.

Yet, one reality remains undeniable: the vast and magnificent history of horology remained standing only because it leaned on the pillars of the most affordable watches.

Which narrative do you accept?

Do you view this historical period as a “crisis” or a “revolution”? Or better yet, do you look at this past from the perspective of Switzerland or from the perspective of Japan?

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Watches always show 10:10

Whether you are a seasoned horologist or a newcomer to the world of watches, one question has likely crossed your mind: Why, in almost every advertisement, are watches set to exactly 10 minutes past 10?

The truth is, this phenomenon is shrouded in myths and legends. Some claim 10:10 marks the exact moment WWI ended; however, history tells us the Great War officially ceased at 11:00 AM. Others point to the end of World War II, yet that official time was 5:10 AM.

It is fascinating how nearly every speculation links back to the World Wars. Another popular theory suggests 10:10 represents the exact moment the atomic bomb was dropped on Hiroshima, a pivotal turning point in 20th-century human history. The problem? “Little Boy” was actually detonated at precisely 8:15 AM.

It’s understandable why these popular answers are so dramatic; humans naturally prefer to fill their mental gaps with exciting narratives. However, history shouldn’t be sacrificed for the sake of a “good story.” The reality of the iconic 10:10 setting is far less mysterious.

The explanation for the fame of 10:10 can be summarized in just two concepts: Symmetry and Visual Balance.

Pareidolia: the answer is easy

The real answer is surprisingly simple. In the vast majority of cases, advertisements, brochures, and marketing videos, watches show 10:10 because, in this position, the hour and minute hands do not obscure the logo (typically located below 12 o’clock) or the date window (usually at 3 or 6 o’clock). Furthermore, 10:10 creates a superior visual harmony; if you look closely, you have one broad hand (minutes) on the right, and two hands, one short and broad (hours) plus one long and thin (seconds), on the left. This balances the “visual weight” across the dial.

As a final note, a study published in 2017 claimed that audiences showed a higher preference for watches set at 10:10 compared to other times. Researchers attributed this positive reaction to Pareidolia, the human tendency to perceive familiar patterns (like a smiling face) in inanimate objects. By pointing upward, the hands at 10:10 create a subtle “V” shape or a “smile,” which is subconsciously more appealing than the downward “frown” of, say, 8:20.

I get it: I also wish the answer was more thrilling and legendary. But facts are facts, and it’s better to embrace reality.

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How flawless must you consistently be for even your errors to hold value? This might sound like an ambiguous question, but allow me to elaborate.

Imagine taking delivery of a brand-new Suzuki. When you get home, you realize a rear door hinge was installed on the wrong side, forcing passengers to awkwardly duck and twist to get into their seats. How would you react? You’d likely utter a few choice words and head straight back to the dealership in a rage. Now, imagine the same scenario with a different car. A much better car. A significantly better car. A Porsche.

You order a Porsche and have it delivered to your office. After a few minutes, you notice the passenger door hinge is installed on the wrong side. Interestingly, the door opens and closes perfectly, but it is, nonetheless, a major defect. Yet, this is a flaw committed not by a budget manufacturer, but by one of the finest automakers in the world. Here is the reality: that Suzuki would be worth less than its market price, but a Porsche with such an extraordinary anomaly might very well end up as a star attraction at a major auction.

So I ask again: How perfect must you be for your mistakes to become valuable? The answer: Immensely.

You must have spent your entire existence in an extraordinary pursuit of excellence, so that when an error finally occurs, it is no longer seen as a sign of negligence or lack of commitment, but as a breathtaking, almost admirable event. This is exactly what happened a few years ago with a specific Rolex Air-King (Ref. 116900). The anomaly was baffling: instead of the numeral ‘3’ at the three o’clock position, the watch featured a second ‘9’. (And yes, we wouldn’t blame you if you hadn’t noticed the error in the photo until this very moment).

This phenomenon becomes even more fascinating when you consider that Rolex’s quality control is widely regarded as the most reliable and rigorous product oversight process in the world. An assembler placed the wrong marker on the dial, and the watch somehow bypassed dozens of inspection filters to reach the customer’s wrist without anyone noticing. This was the curious case of the “Double 9” Rolex Air-King.

Even a mistake becomes a winning card when you are famous for an absolute and perpetual refusal to commit one. It would not be surprising if this Rolex soon surfaced at a major auction house with an astronomical price tag.

If you follow the global watch auction scene, you know that every so often, a timepiece with a glaring, irrational defect appears on the block. It is almost impossible for such an error to be committed by a brand that isn’t known for perfection; for any other brand, making a mistake is simply business as usual.

Looking back through the archives, I recall similar occurrences with Patek Philippe, Omega, Rolex, Audemars Piguet, and Cartier. In every single instance, these flawed pieces sold for prices far exceeding their original retail value.

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We live in a world of glue. If I were to describe the state of quality of various products at this point in our history, this is probably one of the most accurate and truthful statements: we truly live in a world made of glue.

When it comes to quality and excellence in things and objects, three main pillars can be the primary determinants: design, materials, and connections. Yes, I know this may not be very comprehensive, but in order for me to convey my point, please slow down a bit and join me.

Design is an endless galaxy. A galaxy with hundreds of stars and planets of principles and rules, and an infinite amount of empty space in between those celestial bodies that represent subjective choices. So I will say that my main focus in this article is not on design. We will leave the materials aside for now. My main reference from the beginning was the third pillar: connections.

These connections can be anywhere. Anywhere in between the infinite possible materials within the infinite possible designs. Whatever it is, it seems like it’s been a long time since the universe decided to connect things not with thread but with glue.

As you’re reading this, turn around and look at your shoes. There’s a very good chance that the sole of your shoe is attached to the upper with glue. There’s a very good chance that if it’s sewn, the main load of the connection is on the glue, and the use of thread was actually a cosmetic choice.

Or maybe you have a wallet in your pocket. Take a look at it. It’s good to know that most of the layers of your wallet are probably glued together. That’s why we have to buy a new wallet every three or four years, because it’s constantly under pressure in our back pockets and experiences a lot of temperature fluctuations, and pretty soon the glue between its layers loses its initial effect.

Just like what happens to one of the most important products in history: the Converse Chuck Taylor. A shoe that I, unfortunately or fortunately, love, but whose sole glue is almost always a foregone conclusion. I’m talking about one of the most influential pieces of clothing culture in the history of the last century, one of its most fundamental connections facing a defining and final challenge. But it seems that the mainstream industry has decided to prioritize more marginal things.

The sad thing is that there was a day at Converse when one of their employees said to their manager, “The biggest vulnerability of our shoes is the connection between the sole and the upper, and we need to do something about it,” and it seems that their solution was nothing more than, at the most optimistic possible, to use a slightly stronger glue.

Do I seem to be putting a drill in a poppy? Yes, I am being too sensitive. But aren’t we supposed to do the same thing? Aren’t we supposed to be aware consumers and users?

We see the same tragedy in many other garments. The sewing threads are there, but in practice, they are just a weak and unstable mask on a face covered in glue.

The imperative to “scale” production has drowned a large part of the world of things in a swamp of glue. This was something that first sparked after the start of the amazing post-World War II boom. Advertising and branding went from being an arm of production to being the decision-making unit of companies, and almost all brands decided to sacrifice their principles as much as possible in order to “get bigger” and increase production volumes unbridled. The managers and supervisors of the production line were under pressure from investors for whom the brand’s “advertising” unit had drawn an ever-expanding and endless horizon.

“We must grow bigger and bigger, we must produce more and more. And nothing can stand in the way of this clear plan.”

Sewing machines became as powerful as possible, but they were not enough. “Sewing” by its very nature could not be sufficient for this thirst for expansion, because by its very nature, it introduced complications into the production process that were detrimental to increasing profit margins. The role of glue had to be more prominent. The main emphasis in connections had to be shifted from sewing to glue. This alone was enough to change the language and style of design in many product groups in a tangible way.

Traces of this path are visible in a large fraction of things.

We are living in a world of glue. And this is not good news.

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The origins of the tool watch

A common opinion among traditional watch lovers is that the military watch is the purest form of a wristwatch. And to be fair, that belief isn’t far from the truth. If we want to trace the origins of the wristwatch, we need to go back to the early 20th century, specifically World War I.

Back then, soldiers had no other option but to depend on their pocket watches. However there was a serious problem: imagine being in the shallow trenches of the battlefield, in the freezing winter, under heavy enemy fire, and at the same time needing to coordinate operations down to the exact minute.

Reaching into the filthy uniform pocket with frozen hands inside wet gloves was neither simple nor pleasant. The first solution soldiers and officers came up with was to ask their comrades in the engineering units to weld small wire lugs onto the cases of their pocket watches.

This allowed them to strap the watch onto their wrist using a leather band. Word of this improvisation eventually spread beyond the trenches, and watch manufacturers, who until then had dismissed the wristwatch as a feminine accessory, began to recognize it as a practical tool with broader appeal.

Very soon, the wristwatch gained real significance. But another major change was needed: size. One of the last things you want with a wristwatch is being unable to slip it under your sleeve. These watches were highly valuable pieces of equipment, and military supply units were extremely strict about maintaining them.

Producing and purchasing them was costly for governments, so soldiers were required to take good care of them. As always, real necessity drove change, and wristwatches quickly evolved in size to meet practical demands.

I gave you this long introduction to help explain why so many brands that build military-inspired watches still insist on making them smaller than 40 millimeters. Not just 39 or 38, but many argue that a truly faithful military watch should not exceed 37 millimeters. And 37 millimeters happens to be the exact size of this watch from the Singaporean brand Vario.

Faithful to the original

I understand that, in 2025, wearing a 37-millimeter watch might not feel so easy to accept. But if you can put aside your bias about size and actually wear this watch for just a few days, I promise, you’ll be surprised at how naturally it grows on you. For an average wrist, and even for a slightly larger one, a 37-millimeter case does not look out of place. Let’s not forget: not long ago, it was common for lug widths to be noticeably smaller than wrist widths.

For example, in 1980, a 39-millimeter watch was considered large. In fact, when Audemars Piguet introduced the Royal Oak in 1972, its 39-millimeter size was so oversized for the time that it earned the nickname “Jumbo.” As for the dial and hands of this Vario, I don’t need to say much.

To put it simply, I love the design. Beyond the small seconds subdial, which is itself another nod to vintage military watches, two things stand out. First, the textured finish on the dial improves legibility in various lighting conditions. Second, the logo is subtle and doesn’t distract from quick time-reading, which is exactly what a military watch should prioritize. After all, a military watch is supposed to be a tool in its purest form, or at least, it should be.

A humble but working movement

Of course, stamping a logo onto the dial isn’t exactly expensive for a brand either. Now, let’s talk about the movement. Vario chose the Miyota 82S5 caliber for this model. For a watch priced under $400, there aren’t many alternative options available. This is one of the most common choices among microbrands: a Japanese movement, tough and reliable, though not famous for its precision. That said, during my time with this watch, I recorded no more than about a 10-second deviation. For a sub-$400 watch, that’s good.

But keep in mind: my experience doesn’t mean every single watch with this movement will perform identically. Even two watches using the same caliber can show noticeable differences in accuracy. I’ll try to cover this subject in detail in a future article.

The crown placement at 4 o’clock is a smart choice; it makes the watch more comfortable to wear and improves wrist mobility. Some of you might wish for 200 meters of water resistance instead of 100, but in practice, when both the screw-down crown and screw-in caseback are in place, the difference between 100 and 200 meters is minimal. For everyday tool use, the water resistance here is more than adequate.

Another solid design decision from Vario was including drilled lugs, which is practically a must for any watch that claims military authenticity. So, let me wrap this up. I understand why many people feel the need to criticize every watch. But the deeper you go into this world, the more you learn to appreciate different pieces for what they are. More importantly, you realize that any fair judgment of a watch must include its price point, and that your expectations should be adjusted accordingly.

In my view, for under $400, the Vario 1945 D12 is a perfectly respectable timepiece. A watch that is faithful to traditional definitions, with thoughtful design, controlled proportions, and real charm.

absolutely worth the price. I recommend it.

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