Hi Wade,
Appreciate the question. Let's start with the obvious: watch dealers are
pathetic collectors. So are watchmakers. The dealers’ collection
consists of unwanted and unsold stock; the watchmakers: of broken,
beyond-repair, incomplete and obscure pieces, rarely of any value. Being
close to watches and dealing with them daily does not make one a
collector. Quite the opposite.
Collecting is a meaningful and laser-focused effort which requires time,
money, and patience; something that should be enjoyed outside business
hours. (I am typing this reply at 6:05 in the morning—why am I not
'collecting'?). Great collections are built by passionate,
sophisticated, and wealthy people who have plenty of time to chase that
Holy Grail piece to complete their horological jigsaw puzzle.
I remember a visit to a private watch and clock museum in Switzerland,
where I had the privilege of meeting with a third or fourth-generation
collector, who is still building and expanding his family’s collection. A
true multi-generational project. The stories about acquisitions,
bidding wars, travels and relationships required to obtain those unique
pieces were even more fascinating than the watches themselves. Still
vividly remembered: a story of a Breguet pocket watch, which started
life as a pair. The first was bought by his grandfather, the second one
two generations later, reunited at a great cost—“We ended up taking a
massive bridging loan, disposing of some pieces in order to complete the
transaction”. Blood, sweat and sacrifices. There are many thousands of
passionate collectors out there who have amassed large collections, on
almost any horological subject you can think of. And my personal reward
comes from the fact that, in a few cases, I was the one who found and
provided that very special piece they were longing for. So, in a way,
there is a little of “me” in their life collection, which is kind of
cool.
At the end of the day, we all have our personal reasons to buy, collect,
horde, pile up and amass. My reason is the fear of being judged as
stupid. There is no doubt that shortly after I'm gone, someone will open
my small deposit box, and curiously and patiently examine its contents.
What they find in that box is going to be my final message to the
world. Are they going to be amazed to discover two or three
sophisticated pieces of real horological value and importance, or will
they just find a box full of junk? Will they proclaim, “Wow, what a
great find!” or “I can’t believe he sold tens of thousands of watches,
but foolishly failed to preserve and pass on a single piece of any
beauty, merit or importance.” I am not at all fearful of dying
anonymously; I am fearful of dying and then forever being remembered as a
fool who wasted his time and missed his opportunity to be someone worth
remembering.
Am I happy with my current collection? Quite frankly, yes. Of course,
I've missed countless opportunities, but I’ve still managed to hide away
a piece or two worth preserving and guarding for the next generation.
In particular, a certain New Zealand Railway pocket watch, as well as an
important ships chronometer by a prominent maker. Both pieces should be
held onto, and eventually donated to a museum, not sold. If interested,
the story is here: http://nickhacko.blogspot.com/2019/07/sometimes-best-deals-are-those-that.html
When it comes to wristwatches, it’s the beauty of the mechanism and the
story behind the model that matters. Everything else—condition
included—is less relevant. Funnily enough, I am far more tolerant toward
imperfections in my own pieces than those offered for sale. In other
words, most of my vintage watches are probably a 6/10, but they have
plenty of character and stories to tell.
Are we running out of stock worth collecting? Not really. Only a couple
of weeks ago, there was a spectacular Zenith triple calendar moon on
offer here, which was quickly snatched by a collector. I was even able
to source one more, identical, for another collector which is rather
unusual. I would gladly have kept either—or both—to add to my
collection. Those El Primeros are simply superb pieces, which easily
outshine any $100K Patek. Beyond the obvious horological value and
beauty, there is one important fact that makes
them special: for the past 30 years, despite all new releases, and
millions invested in marketing, Zenith failed to make a better El
Primero than the original one. And they probably never will.
If I may—and this is hardly a secret to most subscribers—I have a weak
spot for Seiko railway pocket watches. The plan is, to eventually, have
one from every manufacturing year, from the 1930s to today. On my last
count, there were more than 200 in the collection, a pile in need of
classification, labelling, overhaul, and proper storage. I keep a “cheat
sheet” on the wall, to remind myself that some years are still missing.
1949-51 were “dry years”, as well as 1971. Yet there is an abundance of
stock from the 1950s and 60s. The first quartz model 38RW was only
produced for 2 years (1978-1980) and it is an extremely hard one to
find. Back in 1978, it sold for over $600 and cost more than a brand-new
Rolex Submariner 5513! I am a proud owner of one, which is sealed in a
plastic bag prominently marked “DO NOT SELL THIS ONE”. So, my Seiko
railway pocket watches are still a work in progress. Again, if I drop
dead tomorrow, they should be passed on to a new guardian, rather than a
high bidder.
Whether orderly, messy, pedantic, sophisticated, obnoxious, public,
private, over the top or shy and modest, our watch collection is nothing
more or less than our own reflection in a mirror of time.
Happy collecting,
Nick Hacko
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