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The Many Faces of Windup Watch Fair NYC 2024

Our coverage of brands large and small from the timepiece world of Windup's Watch Fair

Todd Cooke

Just a week after Stitchdown’s Boot Camp, I found myself back in New York, this time in Midtown Manhattan, for the Windup Watch Fair.

The watch fair is the brainchild of the Windup Watch Shop, which is, in turn, the creation of watch enthusiast website Worn & Wound. Instead of focussing on the big luxury watchmakers, whose product can be as costly and inaccessible as trying to buy a home in a walkable neighborhood, Worn & Wound highlights the work of smaller makers who trade on their own innovative designs and value instead of pedigree.

It’s these same qualities that make up the presenters and attendees at the watch fair. These are true enthusiasts, whose passion for timepieces is far beyond any potential status boost one would get for wearing them. And boy there are a lot of them!

The first thing I noticed upon approach was an absolutely massive line that trailed endlessly for multiple blocks, hugging the building-facing side of the sidewalk like a snake hiding from the sun.

In New York, lines like these are as commonplace as bodegas, vape shops, and rats. When I was living here, I would have walked past, jaded and a little snide, without batting an eye. Now, as an out of-towner, I found myself debating whether or not to ask one of the line-occupiers, who was dawdling on his phone, what he was waiting for.

After one escapes the centrifugal force of New York — towards which people like myself, have been perennially drawn like a moth to a flame — you very quickly start to feel out of step with the peculiar rhythm of the city; you begin to nurse the sneaking suspicion that you might be trailing the zeitgeist, a half beat out of tempo. In this sprawling metropolis, where something big is always happening, seemingly around the corner, FOMO has a funny way of creeping up on you.

Ultimately, though, my nerves got the better of me, and I proceeded onward, without accosting anyone. Suspecting that I was close to my destination, I glanced at my phone to check the exact address. I did a pathetic pirouette as I scanned the gilded building numbers looking for four-one-five. It was only at this point, having arrived, that I realized my own obtuseness, the head of the snake I had traced for blocks was found here.

Joke’s on me, I guess.

As you can perhaps tell, I can be a little bit agoraphobic, so I entered quickly through the side door and went to receive my press pass before the gates opened. This was, perhaps, a mistake. As soon as I donned the lanyard around my neck, I turned around as all four sets of double doors opened. I soon found myself inundated in bodies as the throngs of people who’d been standing in line for god knows how long rushed forward with the excitement and exuberance of kids being let into an amusement park. Feeling instantly overwhelmed, I moved off to the side, allowing the barbarians at the gates to raid Rome as they saw fit.

CW&T ($200)

With a pang of recognition, I found myself in front of the booth for CW&T, a design studio I’ve long followed and have the utmost respect for. CW&T is short for “Che-Wei and Taylor,” the two principal members of a design studio based in Brooklyn, New York. “What’s a design firm doing at a watch convention?”, you might ask. It’s a fair question. CW&T was exhibiting their Solid State watch, an experimental art project which features a Casio F-91W movement that has been permanently cast within a transparent resin case.

Intended as a celebration of the iconic Casio wristwatch, unchanged since its introduction in 1989, CW&T’s Solid State iteration exhibits the guts of the movement as a beautiful feat of engineering. Like your transparent Game Boys of yore, the design celebrates the barebones digital mechanism as meriting aesthetic consideration.

But looking beyond this transparent veneer, lies an important question about the nature of time: whose time do you orient yourself to?

It’s easy to forget, but time, which we now accept as “universal,” was for most of human history personally, culturally, and politically malleable.

In America, and the West, our notion of time has always been deeply intertwined with a desire for standard time and the practical benefits and efficiencies it afforded within the system of enterprise. This need to overcome the vicissitudes of time first gained urgency with the creation of the national railroad network, when you needed to make sure that people in different timezones across the country could reliably await and catch their trains.

Suffice it to say, our conception of time remains inextricable from our capitalistic superstructure. Time is money, and the watch, in many ways, remains the ultimate symbol of the capitalist. Look no further than the rakish Gianni Agnelli, the Italian industrialist behind Fiat, who supposedly wore his wristwatch over the cuff of his dress shirt so that he wouldn’t “waste time” pulling back his sleeve.

Look at any other cultural history — from China to Japan, from Spain to Morocco — and you’ll soon find yourself dizzy with different conceptualizations of time. You can look at Soviet history for examples of how the Bolsheviks attempted to rethink time in order to realize a socialist society. Research Native American notions of non-linear, non-absolute time. I don’t have the word count to go into all of this, but I’ve included some links if you want to go down some rabbit holes. This article by Richard Lewis is a particularly good starting place.

All that is to say, unlike the F-91W, you will find the Solid State watch totally devoid of buttons, ancillary functions, LED backlight, and even access to the replacement battery. The movement has simply been encased in resin forever, like a mummified android. As a result, the watch will drift up to ±1 second per day, resulting in a form of idiosyncratic, personal time for each wearer.

At point of purchase, the watch will be set to your preferred timezone in UST format. Assuming you’re using this for time-keeping, rather than just a conversational piece, one will adjust one’s notion of time to accommodate the drift of the watch, similar to how, back in the day, some people used to set their clocks five minutes fast in order to prompt themselves to get out the door faster.

Since the F-91W movement didn’t account for leap years, the date display on the Solid State will appear incorrect after a leap year. As a result, the designers intentionally placed a prominent fluorescent orange dot over the date indicator, simultaneously masking and drawing attention to this design “defect.”

Of all the watches I saw, this was probably, at least conceptually, my favorite. Though the original Casio F-91W clocks in around $20, this version will set you back ten times that, about $200. But from a conceptual and aesthetic point of view, I believe this to be well worth the higher sticker price. Even if you disagree with me, I don’t think you’ll find any other digital wrist watch will have you philosophizing about the nature of time on daily basis.

Praesidus ($500)

If you’re a camo-wearing, WWII documentary-watching kind of hipster, Praesidus is the brand for you. Praesidus has made a name for themselves by reviving military service and field watches from the past, with the majority of their collections based on WWII and Vietnam military service watches.

In the former category, Praesidus is perhaps best known for their revival of the A-11 Field Watch — originally manufactured by Elgin, Waltham, and Bulova — and the DD-45, based on the “Dirty Dozen” combat watches – designed for the British Ministry of Defense by twelve different Swiss-manufacturers: Buren, Cyma, Eterna, Grana, Jaeger-LeCoultre, Lemania, Longines, IWC, Omega, Record, Timor, and Vertex. Though they’re not the only brand to reissue these beloved watches they’re probably the most fastidious.

The A-11 is available in the original 32mm or a larger, more modern 38mm. Compared to the Vaer, MKII, Timex, Marathon, and Hamilton, all of whom have all cited the A-11 as a source of inspiration, Praesidus has executed the most faithful reissue.

Their DD-45 is another dead ringer of the original, and available in a “factory fresh,” “tropical,” and “patina” dial. The only discernible difference.

If you’re more Apocalypse Now than Band of Brothers, the brand has two options for you: the Jungle Field, based on the GG-W-113 issued to US pilots during the Vietnam war and the Rec Spec, based on the Seiko watches procured by the MACV-SOG (Military Assistance Command, Vietnam – Studies and Observations Group).

The MACV-SOG was a highly classified multi-service intelligence group that performed strategic reconnaissance missions throughout the Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia. They became embroiled in some of the most significant campaigns in the war, including the Gulf of Tonkin incident.

Due to supply chain limitations associated with their clandestine operations, this special forces unit went directly to Vietnamese markets to buy local Seiko watches. This led to what was originally designed as a dress watch being repurposed by MACV-SOG soldiers as a field watch, explaining its unique appearance.

Outside of this core line, the brand has recently ventured into some anniversary collections in honor of the 80th anniversary of D-Day. Depending on your tastes, these lean a little kitsch, incorporating sand sourced from Utah beach, one of the five Normandy landing sites (the others being Omaha, Gold, Juno, Sword).

The A-11 and DD-45 field watches retail for $595 and $875, respectively; the Jungle Field GG-W-113 retails for $195 and the Rec Spec $295.

Douglas ($500)

Another microbrand to revive an iconic watch is Douglas, sister brand of Wolbrook. The practice of dual-branded white-labeling was common in the 1960s, and most vintage Douglas pieces have component parts that are stilled labeled Wolbrook.

That said, the Douglas imprint came to represent the promise of a “go anywhere, do anything” watch for working professionals and weekend warriors within the Wolbrook’s catalog, offering highly legible, waterproof, and shock-resistant tool-watches for active men and women.

Originally manufactured in the United States, the brand shifted production to France beginning in the 1950s, following a boom in popularity of aquatic sports. Although everyone thinks of Swiss watches as the standard bearer for accuracy, French watch makers carved out a niche in manufacturing the more forgiving sport and dive watches. Today, production remains based in France as a result of the brand’s connection with the region.

Though they have a robust collection, there’s only one watch that people associate with the brand and that’s the Douglas Skindiver “Worldtimer,” which was owned and worn by none other than Neil Armstrong, the legendary test pilot who went on to become the first man to walk on the moon.

Armstrong’s personal Skindiver was auctioned off as recently 2019, the same year the brand decided to revive it. The re-release paid further homage to the era known for the space race and hypersonic jet testing by coinciding with the 60th anniversary of Flight 64 of the famed X-15 program. (A limited edition version of the watch even featured an engraving of the hypersonic X-15 jet.)

Shown on a bund strap, the new version is slightly larger than the vintage model, clocking in at 48mm lug-to-lug, and you can pick one up for just $450.

Forstner ($500)

Forstner came into the watch business through the side door of manufacturing vintage-inspired bracelets. Like Shinola, the modern reincarnation is a revival of a once defunct company: the Forstner Chain Company.

Originally founded in the 1920s, Forstner, and its second iteration Jacoby Bender, produced some of the most loved watch bracelets of the 20th century. The Komfit was chosen by astronauts to worn on a trip to the moon; the Klip, a bonklip-style band, became favored among pilots; meanwhile, the flat link, went on to be double branded with Omega.

Today, in addition to resuscitating those iconic links, Forstner has also ventured into faithfully reviving watches. Their current line-up consists of just two products: the A-12, a faithful reproduction of the Bulova Astronaut, and the Pilot F-6B, based on the same Dirty Dozen pilot watch resurrected by Praesidus. For the purpose of brevity, we’re going to stick to covering the A-12.

Originally created in 1962 for the U.S. government, the Accutron Astronaut was worn by test pilots in NASA’s X-15 rocket plane and the CIA’s A-12 spy plane programs and made it to space on several occasions in the 1960s. Before NASA selected the Speedmaster as the official watch for manned space flight, the Astronaut was the watch of choice for the Mercury missions.

While everyone seems to be mining the same vintage styles for inspiration, it’s pretty rare to see such a faithful reproductions. By point of comparison, the newer reissues of the Astronaut by Bulova make me nauseous. There’s nothing quite like an opportunistic reboot that seems to get everything wrong about the original. (I’m looking at you Ghostbusters: Frozen Empire.)

Forstner, on the other hand, cuts no corners on the build. The 39mm stainless steel “flying saucer” case features a bi-directional, friction-fit rotating bezel over a domed sapphire crystal with anti-reflective coating. The watch is water resistant for up to 50m. It employs a Swiss Ronda 515-24HR quartz movement in order to offer the watch at an appetizing $500.

Elgé

Yet another brand revival that caught my eye was Elgé, a French-based brand that dates back to the 1940s. Originally produced in the town of Annecy — which has a strong watchmaking tradition, being just a stone’s throw away from the Swiss border — Elge Chamonix was manufactured by Ets Yola.

Elgé is so new that they don’t even have a fully operating website. But what I can tell you is that their first model is a faithful recreation of their oversized pilot watch. It gives off a little Crocodile Dundee energy, but on the right wrist it’s a beaut.

The jumbo numerals mean you’ll never find yourself struggling to tell the time. Intended to be worn on the complementary bund leather strap, the watch features the twenty three rubies mounted on the incabloc shock protection system, first developed in 1934 by Swiss engineers. According to a vintage advertisement I was shown, the watch was originally marketed to individuals operating high-vibration machinery: planes, tractors, and boats. Even if you’re not planning on putting your watch under such stresses, there’s something reassuring about knowing that it can handle whatever you throw at it.

Details are scant from this company. I don’t know the price and I don’t even think you can place a pre-order at this point, but you can sign-up for notifications on their website.

Paulin ($500-1,000)

For the less serious among us, one need look no further than Paulin. Based in Glasgow, Scotland, Paulin is a design-forward watch brand that combines the approachable aesthetics of Swatch group with the craftsmanship of an upstart micro-brand.

That said, the team behind Paulin clearly went to art school before becoming interested in horology. And while, yes, they’ll happily geek out on the tech specs behind their creations, I’d hazard a guess that they’re probably more interested in discussing the philosophies of different art and architectural movements.

Their two latest collections, the Geo and Neo, take inspiration from the history of the decorative arts. The Geo was inspired by the lettering of Glasgow-born Charles Rennie Mackintosh, while the Neo combines the functionalism of mid-century modernism with the playfulness of post-modernism.

At the core of the brand’s DNA is a desire to challenge the aesthetic austerity of previous generations, not to mention our own, and embrace stylistic joy. But don’t be too quick to judge a book by its cover. Beneath the playful exterior are some very discerning design decisions.

Paulin is one of the only companies in the world to use anodized aluminum for watch dials. They designs their lacquer-painted brass hands in-house, an uncommon practice for many watch manufacturers, before having them manufactured in India by KDDL. Paulin makes use of both tried-and-true and cutting-edge movements. Their Neo uses the well-known workhorse Seiko NH35A movement, while the Model Mechanical is the first in the world to make use of La Joux-Perret’s D100 movement.

They’re also doing their part to reduce waste, taking a forensic look at waste in their supply chain; the brand’s packaging is 100% natural and recyclable, made from card, cork, and natural fibers.

Their models are priced between $500 for quartz and $1,000 for manual and automatic movements.

Junghans ($1,000-2,000)

In the interest of full disclosure, Junghans is one of my all-time favorite watch companies. It’s admittedly a strange choice, as it won’t earn you any clout in the watch world, where it’s more often framed as an initial stepping stone into the upper echelons of horology.

But for me, my circuitous journey into watches could have ended where it began. For my money, I don’t think there is a more approachable and timeless watch than the Junghans Max Bill, especially around the thousand dollar mark. (Believe me, I’ve looked.)

Allow me to make my case: it is effortlessly chic in all settings, from the dressiest to the most mundane, by virtue of whispering where others shout. You’ll never be called out for wearing one, the way you would with a Rolex. Similarly, no one will ever bug you for the tech specs — the caliber, movement, etc. — which somehow seems beyond the point. The dial has been stripped of every unnecessary detail, including jewel count.

To me, this is the platonic ideal of a watch.

Perhaps my verdict can be explained by way of my own peculiar journey. I wandered into a love of watches by following in the footsteps of my love of design, and the Junghans Max Bill sits dead center within this Venn diagram of overlapping interests.

Max Bill was a Swiss architect and protean design talent who studied at the Bauhaus before going on to co-found its spiritual successor, the Ulm School. Junghans, which has been around since 1863, tapped Bill in the late 1950s to begin designing clocks that quickly became iconic representations of his functionalist philosophy.

Bill’s grandfather was a watchmaker, which might explain his affinity for time-keeping devices. Whereas many, especially today, view watches as needless luxuries enjoyed by the rich, Bill saw something humble, modest, and universal in the petite devices. “Little things?” Bill asked a German newspaper, rhetorically, “I believe that our lives depend on little things […] And a lot of that time the watch measures for us. That’s why I’m so obsessed with making beautiful, precise timepieces.”

Bill’s collaboration with Junghans began with the Kitchen Clock with Timer, now in the Museum of Modern Art, that you probably first saw in your chic grandparents’ kitchen, an embodiment of the postwar “good design” philosophy. On the heels of its success, a representative from the brand asked to Bill expand his design language to wristwatches. Bill obliged, but not without establishing a few parameters: “I explained that I would be delighted to make watches, but no ‘jewelry watches,’ no temporary seasonal flowers. On the contrary, watches as far away from fashion as possible. As timeless as possible, without forgetting the time.”

The resulting watch design was svelte, with thin, delicate hands that point to architectural hour markers that look like tick marks. Bill gave customers the choice of getting the watch with or without Arabic numerals, the latter being the choice of the most devoted minimalists. You can also opt for a date window, if you so choose, though I find it more elegant without one.

The brand has since been obliged to reissue tasteful editions that subtly tweak Bill’s design in a way that further accentuates the Bauhaus affiliation, by way of red-lumed hands or Arabic numerals. But among the initiated, these embellishments can feel garish, if not violent.

At its core, this is an unobtrusive object, one that avoids rather than courts attention; the addition of such an eye-catching, activating color can feel at once crass and eye-rolling expected, recalling scenes in 90s rom-coms when the supposedly unobtrusive girl takes off her glasses to reveal she was actually really hot all along. As Bill himself said, ”Functional design considers the visual aspect, that is, the beauty, of an object as a component of its function, but not one that overwhelms its other primary functions.”

Amen.

Bravur ($1,000-1,500)

There has seemingly never been a more appealing time to be an upstart watch brand, that is, if you can handle the competition. I can’t keep track of the number of new entrants I saw at Wind-Up Watch Fair. In the past ten years, hundreds of small, independent watch brands have cropped using readymade, plug-and-play movements manufactured by Swatch, Citizen, and Seiko. Seemingly, everyone is utilizing the Miyota 9015. That makes separating the wheat from the chaff a difficult, daunting process.

In the sea of new, Bravur is one such brand that merits your attention. Founded by Magnus Äppelryd and Johan Sahlin in 2013, Bravur advertises itself as a brand with a Swedish Soul and a Swiss Heart. All their components, except the movement, have been exclusively manufactured for them.

After gaining popularity through Scandinavian minimal watches like the BW003, in recent months, it appears that the brand is leaning in a sportier direction. The Team Heritage Collection they’re debuting is inspired by vintage cycling and attempts to render French “souplesse” accessible for an international audience.

The collection’s model names (PEU, REN, and MER) reference the three-letter code given to cycling teams by the UCI (Union Cycliste Internationale), the governing body of international cycling. Details from vintage cycling caps, the sport’s calling card, can be found in the Team Heritage adaptable logos, as well as other parts of the watch.

The spoke-like pattern on the inner face of the REN hides the Renault team jersey stripes, which start to look like dazzle camo. PEU adopts the team’s black-and-white colors, while the discreet green border along the block square hour markers references the BP logo found on the exterior of their jersey from 1956 to 1975.

Meanwhile, MER employs the eye-catching purple and yellow colors from the Mercier jersey in a way that highlights the variegated surface structure, composed of concentric rings alternating between a radial brush and frosted surface.

I also got to preview of a new as of yet unannounced watch they have yet to release which takes aesthetic inspiration from vintage racing. All three models retail at $1,195.

Lorca ($2,000-3,000)

There are micro brands and then there are one-man brands. Lorca is of the latter category, a passion project dreamed up by Jesse Marchant, a Canadian Singer-Songwriter currently residing in Brooklyn, New York.

The story goes that Marchant wanted a watch that could accompany him on his frequent tours throughout Europe and North America, but he couldn’t find one that fit his needs and his budget. He had three requirements. One: It had to feature a GMT, the most practical complication for a frequent traveler. Two: It needed to have 200 meters of water resistance, in the event of a run or a swim. Three: It needed to be discrete, yet stylish so as not to draw attention away from a live performance. After years of looking, he finally decided to make his own. Boy are we glad he did.

Lorca is a watch that looks like it belongs in the era its harkening back to, without yielding to the temptation to slavishly reproduce a particular model. The result is a watch that is sure to turn the heads of both vintage connoisseurs and contemporary watch nerds.

According to Gary Shteyngart, who interviewed Marchant for Hodinkee, Marchant found inspiration in: the flat bezels of Universal Geneve’s Nina Rindt chronographs, the markers of 166.010 Omega Seamasters, the two hook end-link attachment from the IWC Mark XII, the balance of the Rolex 1600 Datejust, Jaeger Le Coultre’s Memovox, and the silver dial of a Richard pocket watch that belonged to his grandfather. The final result recalls something you’ve seen before, but can’t quite pin down; familiar, yet distinctive.

The serif lettering around the GMT is a beautiful decorative contrast to the tick lines around the face, which are unified by a subtle crosshair that cuts across the face. At just 36mm, this watch is perfectly sized for wrists as small as mine.

Lorca has just two models: the Model No. 1 GMT and Model No. 2 Chronograph, which retail for $1,750 and $2,650 respectfully. The former, in particular, is an absolute stunner: “The GMT of my dreams,” to quote Shteyngart. Among the upstart micro-brands, Lorca is exemplary of how to make a contemporary watch that references well-known vintage models but stands apart as something totally sui generis.

Micromilspec ($2,000)

Micromilspec is reviving the practice of manufacturing timepieces as part of government contracts. Made-to-order watches for the military was a common practice in early to mid 20th century, but has largely fallen by the wayside in recent years as large scale conflict becomes less common (supposedly).

That hasn’t stopped Micromilspec from carving a niche in the space by producing custom commissions for international service branches the Norwegian Heimevernet, the US Space Force, and the French Navy’s Nageurs de Combat. The brand started in 2019, when the brand first distributed thirty timepieces to military personnel within the Norwegian Armed Forces.

Everything begins with their barebones Field Testing Unit, a watch intentionally bereft of decorative elements in order to trace scratches and assess performance. The “sync at twelve” text refers to the practice of photographing the watch face at noon as part of the standard testing protocol.

After testing, the brand develops a spec sheet based on the unique needs of each unit in order to deliver a custom solution for their client. The Hercules, for instance, is the result of a year-long collaboration with the 335 Squadron, responsible for flying the Hercules aircraft, while Space Force was designed in collaboration with members of the USSF.

Originally, Micromilspec didn’t plan to make its watches available to the public. However, they began releasing civilian versions of some of their custom designs that are limited to 200 a year.

I am personally a sucker for their barebones Field Testing Unit, which retails for $1700.

Baltic ($500-2,000)

Baltic is one of the better known micro brands of the past ten years. The brand was founded by Etienne Malec, whose father was a professional photographer and fastidious collector of watches. These two complementary passions came together to form of a unique artifact, a photo diary that documented the story, price, and provenance of every piece in his 100+ watch collection. When Malec’s father died unexpectedly, the picture book fell into Malec’s hands and provided something of a playbook for him to launch a vintage-inspired watch brand.

Functioning as a bible of sorts, this horological tomb provided Malec with personal source material to inspire his designs, while the brand’s name, Baltic, honors to his father’s Polish heritage. Some of Batlic’s timepieces are precise reproductions of Malec’s father watches, others represent modern reinterpretations. For instance, the Aquaracer is based on the TAG Heuer Aquaracer, while the Tricompax merely “takes inspiration” from vintage racing watches (though to my eyes it looks like a rubber stamp of Paul Newman’s Rolex Daytona).

All of Baltic’s designs are manufactured in Hong Kong and assembled in France. Their accessories are made in Italy.

My personal favorites are the Hermétique Tourer ($575), HMS ($375), and Aquascaphe Classic ($600). Some of their designs too strongly recall their historical antecedents for my taste but to each their own.

Doxa ($2,000-3,000)

For a long time, Doxa remained a relatively obscure and under-recognized brand from the 1960s and 70s, the golden era of tool watch manufacturing. Despite the popularity of brands like Rolex and Omega, Doxa was rarely, if ever, mentioned in the same breath.

That was until James Lamdin of Analog/Shift began his quest to track down an original Sub 300 from the 1970s, which has since become their flagship product, making the case that just as Speedmaster is to Omega and Submariner is to Rolex, the SUB 300 is to DOXA. (I couldn’t help but wonder if the Analog/Shift booth and the DOXA booths were directly adjacent to each other because of this little known piece of inside baseball.)

As a result of the rising popularity for vintage models, DOXA began rereleasing limited editions of the SUB 300 starting in 2017, before fully reissuing the iconic dive watch in 2020. The brand has since been riding high on the reissue, exhibiting both the SUB 300 and 300T proudly as icons in their own right.

The Sub 300 was originally launched in 1967 as a dive watch that prioritized functionality and legibility above all else. Although it might read as funky and quirky on land, in the water this watch rigorously adheres to Walter Gropius’s form follows function maxim:  the flat tonneau-esque shape of the case makes it less prone to snagging (though the rereleased model is slightly thicker than the original vintage); the thick notched bezel makes manipulation with gloves easier; the bright orange dial maximizes visibility underwater while the prominent minute hand prioritizes time elapsed during a dive; a no-decompression scale on the bezel facilitates casual diving.

It is perfectly designed for its intended purpose.

The Sub 300T came out just a year after the Sub 300, in 1968. It was the first dive watch to feature a helium escape valve (HEV), a very niche feature that has become a kind of flex among dive watch collectors. (NOTE: The re-released version does not feature an HEV.) It basically enables divers to release the helium bubbles that can get trapped inside the watch when diving, creating internal pressure. If you want to a deep dive into the use case for an HEV, you can read about it here.

Available in 8 different dial colors. The Doxa Sub 300 retails for $2,590 in a grains of rice bracelet and $2,420 with a NATO strap.

Analog/Shift

Analog/Shift was one of the few booths at Wind-Up that was exhibiting vintage watches. Founded in 2012, Analog/Shift is one of the big three online retailers — the other two being Hodinkee and Crown & Caliber —that sprung up in the last ten years to market watches to the millennial consumer.

After seeing so many new brands, I took comfort in my favorite pastime of geeking out over vintage watches.

They had some beautiful models on display. Alongside your usual stunt watches watches, so iconic they serve as a calling card for the well-heeled movers and shakers (e.g. the Omega Speedmaster, the Cartier Tank, the Audemars Piguet Royal Oak, etc.) they had some more obscure finds.

Of particular interest to me was: a Girard-Perregaux with an alarm feature, an incredible world-time Zodiac, and an absolutely stunning Deep Sea Le Coultre Dive Watch (that’s what $30k will buy you, folks). I also came across a Vulcain Cricket and a Universal Genevé Polerouter, not to mention a beautiful Gallet yachting watch, manufactured by the same watch group responsible for the Aristo Multichron Regulator I was sporting.

I could go on, but I have to wrap this article up somehow. If you’re interested in getting lost in the sauce, feel free to pursue their website along with me.