A while ago, I wrote about Sero’s Signature collection from the perspective most of us, watch journalists, experience new watches nowadays: press photos, specs, renderings, conversations, and instinct. It was one of those releases that immediately felt different. Not louder. Just…aware. A watch clearly shaped by people who spend too much time obsessing over old Calatravas, obscure pocket watches, case profiles, handset shapes, and the tiny details most brands stopped caring about years ago.

Now I’ve actually been wearing the blue Signature. And the dangerous thing about this watch is that the more time you spend with it, the harder it becomes to wear anything else.

Not because it’s trying to dominate your wrist. Quite the opposite. The Signature quietly worms its way into your routine until suddenly you realize it’s been four straight days and you still haven’t felt like switching watches.

That almost always comes down to proportions. On paper, the dimensions are excellent: 37.5mm wide, around 46.5mm lug-to-lug, and under 10mm thick including the crystal. But numbers don’t explain why this thing feels so right once it’s actually strapped on. The watch has presence without ever feeling oversized, and elegance without becoming fragile or overly formal. That balance is unbelievably difficult to get right.

A lot of brands think making a dress watch smaller automatically makes it refined. Sero understood something better: refinement comes from shape, spacing, and restraint.

The case has this beautiful softness to it. The slightly domed sapphire crystal smooths out the profile, the polished and brushed surfaces break up the light perfectly, and the thin mid-case keeps everything compact against the wrist. Nothing feels forced. No exaggerated vintage cues. No attempt to cosplay as a 1950s watch. It simply carries itself the way great dress watches do.

Naturally, the dial is where things become genuinely impressive.

The blue tone Sero chose is exceptional because it avoids the trap almost every modern blue dial falls into. It doesn’t scream. It doesn’t try to look electric or sporty. Instead, it behaves more like dyed metal than paint. Under daylight, the vertically brushed texture comes alive with this cool metallic shimmer, but indoors it deepens dramatically, becoming darker, richer, and more serious.

There’s a calmness to it, and then your eyes land on the numerals.

This is the detail that completely sold me on the watch in person: The deeply engraved Breguet numerals have an absurd amount of character. Not printed. Not stamped-looking. Actually engraved with enough depth to create real shadow and contrast across the dial. You notice it immediately when light moves across the surface. Certain numerals disappear slightly into darkness while others catch the light, giving the entire dial a constantly shifting personality.

Photos genuinely don’t capture how dimensional this thing looks. The engraved minute track adds even more texture without overcrowding the dial, which is impressive because this could have very easily turned into visual overload. Instead, everything feels measured. The spacing is perfect. Nothing competes with anything else.

And the hands…honestly, the hands are ridiculous. Sero calls them sculpted spade hands, but what matters is how alive they feel. The thermal bluing gives them incredible color variation throughout the day, shifting from almost black to vivid cobalt depending on the angle. More importantly, they have actual shape to them. The concave and convex surfaces completely change the way light interacts with the handset, which gives the watch a level of visual richness you normally expect from brands operating at a much higher price point.

This is the kind of watch where you’ll check the time and then stare at it for another five seconds afterward.

What surprised me most is how emotionally warm the Signature feels despite being so clean and restrained. Some dress watches can become cold objects. They’re beautiful, but distant. The Sero avoids that entirely. There’s something deeply human about it. You can tell collectors designed this watch because it focuses on the things enthusiasts irrationally fall in love with: the curvature of the crystal, the exact tone of the blued hands, the depth of the numerals, the way the lugs sit, the tension between brushed and polished finishing.

Inside sits the manually wound Sellita SW210-1b Elaboré, which feels like exactly the correct movement for this watch. Not because it’s exotic or flashy, but because hand-winding suits the personality of the Signature perfectly. A watch like this should ask for interaction. The daily winding ritual becomes part of the experience, and the SW210 delivers that satisfying mechanical resistance that makes you actually want to engage with it every morning.

Through the sapphire caseback, the movement gets tasteful finishing including Geneva stripes, blued screws, and snailed wheels, with production models receiving gilt engravings as well. Again, Sero showed restraint here. They didn’t attempt to oversell the movement or pretend it’s something it isn’t. Instead, they refined it enough to match the rest of the watch aesthetically.

That honesty matters. The leather strap deserves credit too. The slightly padded construction near the lugs gives the watch a fuller vintage silhouette on wrist, and combined with the improved buckle curvature planned for production, the whole wearing experience feels surprisingly mature for a debut release.

That’s really what keeps circling in my head with the Signature.

This doesn’t feel like a “good first attempt”, It feels like a watch designed by people who already knew exactly what they wanted before they ever started the company.

At its current €999 preorder price, the Signature occupies a strange space where it almost feels underpriced relative to the amount of care poured into it. Not because it’s trying to compete with haute horlogerie, but because so few modern watches at this level feel this coherent.

Every part of it speaks the same language. And after wearing it consistently, I think that’s the real reason I keep reaching for it.

The Sero Signature doesn’t rely on gimmicks, nostalgia bait, or hype. It succeeds because it understands something many modern watches don’t: Subtle watches become unforgettable when the details are right.

There’s something really cool about seeing a small independent brand slowly figure itself out in real time. That’s probably why following Anders & Co over the past year has been genuinely interesting for me personally. Alex, the founder, and I have had countless conversations about watches, collectors, design language, and where the brand should head next. And honestly, one topic kept coming back every single time: mechanical watches.

Because no matter how good a quartz watch is, enthusiasts still look at a mechanical release differently. It adds credibility. It shows intent. It tells collectors the brand actually wants to play in this space seriously.

The AC2 Volcán Manual Wind is exactly that moment for Anders & Co. And I honestly think it’s the release the brand needed.

This week marks 1 year of Time-Telling’s relationship with Anders & Co. So let’s make this special.

I already liked the AC2 before this version came out. The proportions were right, the case had personality, and unlike a lot of microbrands trying too hard to look “luxury,” the AC2 always felt pretty restrained and confident in itself. Nothing about it felt forced. But moving the platform into a mechanical direction completely changes how people see the watch.

The good news is they did it properly. Honestly.

The biggest surprise for me when handling the watches was how thin and sleek they still feel on the wrist. That’s usually where brands mess up when they convert a quartz watch into a mechanical one. Suddenly the case becomes chunky, the proportions get weird, and the elegance disappears. For example, the crown becomes huge all of a sudden, and they justify it with “ease of grip”. None of that bs happened here.

At 6.65mm thick with an open caseback, the AC2 still feels sleek and balanced on the wrist, which is seriously impressive considering they’re using the ETA 7001 manual wind movement.

And honestly, the ETA 7001 was the right call.

There are brands that throw in a mechanical movement just to say they did it. This doesn’t feel like that. The 7001 actually fits the watch. It’s thin, reliable, classic, and has the kind of history enthusiasts respect. More importantly, it keeps the proportions intact, which was essential for the AC2 platform.

And the experience of winding the watch genuinely adds something. It sounds simple, but it changes your relationship with the piece. The AC2 suddenly feels more alive. You interact with it differently. It becomes more personal than just grabbing a quartz watch and throwing it on. Which I don’t mind! It feels great to know your watch is 10000% accurate.

The three dials also each bring a completely different vibe.

The grey dial is probably the most versatile one in the lineup and maybe my personal favorite overall. It has enough texture and depth to keep things interesting. Depending on lighting, it can feel sporty, industrial, or surprisingly dressy. That’s hard to pull off. A lot of textured dials today look overdesigned.

The white crackled dial is probably the most unique of the three. It has this slightly vintage feel that works really well with the polished Breguet numerals and dauphine hands. The texture gives the dial personality without making it look busy. And that’s important because the watch still feels clean and wearable every day. Doesn’t disturb legibility either.

Then there’s the salmon dial, which I think will probably end up being the fan favorite. Salmon dials are everywhere right now, but most brands either go too pink or too copper. Anders & Co actually found a really tasteful middle ground here. The metallic enamel finish catches light beautifully without becoming flashy or trendy looking. It feels mature. Great for every skin tone as I mentioned on my instagram reel.

One detail I really appreciated across all three watches is the small seconds display at six o’clock. It completely changes the personality of the AC2. The original quartz version looked clean and minimal, but the small seconds complication instantly gives the watch more mechanical character. Watching that subdial move is a constant reminder that this is now a proper hand-wound watch.

The finishing also deserves credit because this is usually where smaller brands expose themselves a little. But the AC2 feels well thought out. The brushing and polishing transitions are clean, the case sides have a nice presence, and overall the watch feels more expensive than you’d expect at this price point.

What I also respect is that Anders & Co didn’t suddenly try to become a completely different brand just because they went mechanical. The DNA is still there. The watches still feel restrained and Scandinavian in the way they approach design. The movement just elevates the whole thing.

And honestly, that’s why I think this release matters: The AC2 Volcán Manual Wind gives Anders & Co another level of legitimacy with enthusiasts and collectors. It feels like the brand crossed an important line here.

And after all the conversations Alex and I have had about the direction of the company, I genuinely think there’s still a lot more potential ahead. I’d love to see this same approach applied to other models like the AC1 because that case design absolutely deserves a mechanical version too.

I’d also love seeing the brand experiment with more interesting movement choices down the line. Not because the ETA 7001 isn’t good, because it absolutely is, but because Anders & Co clearly has the design maturity now to support something even more ambitious in the future.

That’s the exciting part.

The design language already feels established. The proportions are there. The identity is there.

Now the mechanical credibility finally is too.

The problem with most open worked watches is that they try too hard. Brands cut random holes into the dial, expose half the movement, throw the word “skeleton” somewhere in the marketing, and suddenly expect you to feel like you’re wearing haute horlogerie. Most of the time it just looks messy.

The Charlie Paris Initial Cœur Ouvert avoids that trap almost completely.

You guys know me for my honest and sometimes unhinged opinions about watches. And I think that’s what makes these reviews resonate with our readers.

So, after spending time with the watch in person, I think the reason it works so well comes down to restraint. The open heart “section” feels integrated into the design instead of interrupting it. You still get the satisfaction of seeing the mechanics moving underneath the dial, but the watch never sacrifices elegance or readability just to show off gears spinning around. That balance is much harder to achieve than people think. It brings me comfort, as I said on my review reel on Instagram.

And honestly, under sunlight, this thing becomes ridiculously charming.

The blue sunburst dial completely transforms outdoors. In darker environments it looks deep navy and relatively understated. Then light hits it and suddenly the dial turns electric. The rose gold PVD case and warm brown leather strap soften the whole watch visually, giving it this relaxed Mediterranean feel that makes you want to sit outside somewhere for three hours doing absolutely nothing productive.

The proportions also help a lot. At 40mm wide and only 10.2mm thick, the watch wears slim enough to feel refined without becoming fragile.  The curved lugs and relatively “compact” 46mm lug to lug distance make it surprisingly versatile on wrist. It slides under a cuff easily, but still works casually with knitwear, linen, or just a hoodie. Which have been my day-to-day garments in these last couple of weeks after W&W.

Inside sits the Miyota 82S7 automatic movement with 40 hours of power reserve.  And honestly, that is exactly the kind of movement this watch should have. The Initial is not pretending to compete with independent Swiss haute horlogerie. It is trying to be a genuinely enjoyable mechanical watch at a fair price. And at €445, it actually succeeds at that better than a lot of brands trying to play the fake luxury game.  

What I also appreciate is Charlie Paris as a brand, they occupy a very interesting position in modern watchmaking right now. Smaller independent French company, watches designed and assembled in Paris, clean contemporary aesthetics, reasonable pricing, and absolutely zero obsession with pretending they have “200 years of heritage.”  That honesty comes through in the product.

And the details in person genuinely surprised me. The applied markers catch light beautifully, the dauphine style hands stay extremely legible, and the open worked section creates enough movement on the dial to keep the watch visually alive throughout the day. Looking at your photos specifically, the watch also photographs exactly how it feels in real life: warm, relaxed, and much more refined than its price would suggest.

Open worked dials are interesting because they sit in a weird space within watch culture. Enthusiasts sometimes dismiss them because of how overused skeletonization became during the oversized fashion watch era of the 2000s. But when brands approach the concept carefully, open heart designs can actually reconnect people with the mechanical aspect of watches. You are literally seeing the movement breathe underneath the dial. The watch feels alive in a way fully closed dials sometimes do not.

That is probably why this Charlie Paris works so well emotionally.

It is not trying to impress you with complexity. It simply reminds you there is a mechanical object quietly functioning on your wrist. And sometimes that is more than enough. 

Check it out here

Watch collecting is just another way of justifying the overconsumption culture that capitalism feeds on. 

I know, huge statement. Especially in an article about buying watches.

This article is me, your friendly neighborhood watch connoisseur, recommending a few watches I would spend my hard earned money on. Nothing crazy, nothing niche or experimental or weird. But definitely cool and useful. Because you should never forget that watches are tools. Tools that serve a purpose in a certain context. 

Disclaimer: “Without breaking the bank” doesn’t mean cheap. It means taking your time to pick a watch that works for you and your lifestyle, and that you’ll be wearing for a couple of years and build an emotional bond with.

Anyway, here are the 7 chosen watches (tap on their names to discover each one):

1. Unimatic UC1

Unimatic is what happens when industrial design nerds start making watches instead of furniture. The UC1 is pure Italian tactical minimalism. Big lume plots, matte surfaces, chunky proportions, zero unnecessary decoration. It looks like military equipment somebody accidentally turned into a collectible. And somehow, despite the brutalist look, it’s still pretty elegant.

This is also one of those watches that reminds you why tool watches became cool in the first place. Automatic movement, 300m water resistance, clean legibility, no fake vintage gimmicks. Online, people constantly compare Unimatic to old military instruments, which honestly feels accurate. It has that cold functional beauty a James Bond fanatic like myself is a sucker for.

Price: €640.

2. Nomos Club Sport Neomatik Worldtimer Ref. 792

I already said during Watches & Wonders 2026 that this watch would probably end up in my collection soon. Still true. Nomos somehow managed to make a worldtimer that does not feel like it belongs to a finance bro explaining airport lounge access. At 40mm wide and only 9.9mm thick, this thing is absurdly wearable for a worldtime complication.  

The best part is the dial layout. Technical without becoming messy. A lot of collectors online compared it to aircraft gauges and vintage dashboard instruments, and I completely get it.   The DUW 3202 movement is also genuinely impressive for the price point, especially considering most brands would make a watch like this twice as thick and twice as expensive. This feels like a real daily watch for people who actually move around. 

Price: €4,260 retail.

3. Charlie Paris Initial Coeur Ouvert Vert

I had this watch on my wrist for more than a week and it completely surprised me. This is the perfect spring and summer watch. The green dial absolutely wakes up under sunlight and the open worked section slowly grows on you the more you wear it. Usually open heart watches try way too hard. This one feels balanced and relaxed.

Charlie Paris also understands something a lot of brands forget: not every watch needs to scream “luxury.” This thing is approachable, comfortable, easy to style, and honestly just enjoyable to wear. Linen shirt, sunglasses, coffee outside somewhere warm. That is the vibe. It feels very French in the best possible way.

Price: €485.

4. Minim MN01 CNY LE 

Minim is for people who are slightly tired of safe watches. Not weird for the sake of being weird, just creative enough to feel refreshing. The MN01 limited edition has a really strong visual identity without sacrificing wearability. Sharp case architecture, interesting dial execution, modern proportions. You can tell actual design people worked on this.

I’m also paying extra attention to Minim recently because I’m working on something pretty exciting with the brand. And honestly, I like seeing smaller independents take risks while bigger brands keep recycling the same three sports watch designs over and over again. This is the type of piece that gets noticed by actual watch enthusiasts instead of people just recognizing a logo.

Price:  €1,200–€1,400

5. Anders & Co AC2 VOLCAN Manual Wind

The manual wind AC2 VOLCAN collection is probably what Anders & Co needed the most. It gives the brand more credibility. Manual winding changes the whole experience of wearing a watch. You interact with it. You slow down for five seconds every morning instead of treating it like another object you throw on before leaving the house.

The open caseback also helps a lot. Being able to actually see the movement makes the watch feel more honest somehow. Design wise, Anders & Co continues mixing vintage inspiration with modern execution without becoming cosplay or homage coded. That balance is harder to achieve than people think. I’ll go deeper into this collection in another article because there is way more to unpack here.

Price: €1780.

6. Jacques Bianchi JB200 Poulpro

This might genuinely be my favorite modern dive watch brand right now. The founder is a friend and I’m excited to spend more time with the watches soon, but even without that connection, the JB200 Poulpro would still be my pick from the catalog. I got the chance to handle it at Chronopolis Watch Fair in Geneva and It has real old school Mediterranean dive tool energy. Rough around the edges in the best way.

Most modern dive watches feel overly polished and sterile now. This one still has soul. The asymmetrical case, oversized hands, our octopus friend ofc, and overall design language feel rooted in actual diving history instead of “luxury ocean lifestyle” marketing campaigns. It also somehow works ridiculously well as an everyday watch, which honestly matters more than most collectors admit.

Price: Around €1,162.

7. Arsène Lippens Artigiano Collection

I saw the Artigiano collection during Chronopolis at Geneva Watch Days and the dials immediately stole the show for me. I was ready to skip the rest tbh. These watches impress emotionally because it plays with textures and colors that have a ridiculous amount of depth in person, and the way light hits the dials makes them constantly change character.

What I like most is that the watches still feel elegant despite all the visual work happening on the dial. A lot of brands overdo texture and end up making something exhausting to wear. Arsène Lippens keeps things controlled. This feels like the kind of smaller independent brand collectors will suddenly pretend they always knew about in two years. Because they always do…

Price:  €1,109.

If you end up getting any of these watches, please email me or DM me on instagram (@walid.benla) your experience and first impressions!

I sat down to write this article at the Madrid airport, on my way to Geneva for Watches & Wonders 2026. It was late, I was talking to the Time-Telling team about the new releases, and meditating on what this year actually meant for the watch world. 

I tend to do that a lot, because I believe that no matter how unattractive or boring a year might be — and 2026 was — it still had to mean something for the overall context of the industry. 

My meditations took me to one conclusion: Brands are going back to 34mm!! 

Hold on now, let me lay down some context. 

The general consensus of the watch world in the last few years — let’s say up until 2022 — was that 38-39mm was the small-to-medium size, safe for enthusiasts.

However, and you’ll notice while reading this article, that 38mm and 39mm are starting to seem like some big numbers. You might even cringe, like a Catier-Tank-Wearing artist might do at the thought of a 45mm Panerai. 

And THAT is today’s article in a nutshell. 

It sure didn’t happen on a whim. No no no… it was gradual and very clear. 

We had that Tony Soprano 36mm Rolex Presidential Day-Date trend, then the Patek Philippe Ellipse, and the Cartier Tank craze, and and and… 

Side note before we consider continuing this article: This has nothing to do with genders, and which watches are manly and which are feminine or whatever. I don’t care.

This year on Watches & Wonders (2026), big brands felt like they had to listen to their clients. The clients that kept slipping through their fingers because they didn’t have watches to fit under their cuffs and provide a certain comfort. 

And since we’re gradually descending to 34mm, I’d like to point out Bulgari’s amazing attempt at reducing the size of their Octofinissimo to 37mm. 

God, I loved that. Wanna know why? Because people tend to forget that to reduce a watch’s dimensions, the brand has to CHANGE THE ENTIRE MOVEMENT. But more on that in an upcoming article.

34mm is Becoming The New Universal Sweet Spot.

At Watches & Wonders 2026, Rolex, Patek, and Moser introduced 34mm watches.

And if these 3 big and respected brands see it, we’d better do so too.

Rolex gave us the Oyster Perpetual Ref. 124205, in Everose gold, Store dial, and all of it in a 34mm case. And what’s funny about it all, is that I wore to W&W (and am currently wearing) a 34mm two-tone Tudor Prince Oysterdate. This watch is from 1971. And we know how much today’s pop culture is yearning for a 70’s reboot.

This 2026 34mm Oyster Perpetual seems intentional, not new and not homage, and my favorite, not gendered. It seems like Rolex is planting a flag.

Another brand that I spent a lot of time praising on my GQ contribution and on my social media, H. Moser & Cie.

They released their 34mm Streamliner this year — with an amazing dial might I say — which I interpreted as a clear and direct attack on the oversized and heavy sports watch market.

On my wrist (tiny as it may be), it belonged. 

Patek Philippe’s 34mm release was much more subtle. The Ellipse D’or is known to be small, slim, elegant, under the radar… but they reinforced that sub 36mm sizing with a large 34.5 x 39.5mm large-size model and a 31.1 x 35.6mm mid-size model.

As in “we’ve been here for a while, you guys are now catching up”

What does this mean for the industry?

Watches are going smaller. It’s not a trend. It’s just practical. And let me tell you why.

During our press appointment at H. Moser’s booth, I asked the gentleman who was presenting and explaining the novelties about why the brand would go this low (34mm) with their most popular collection. 

He said: it’s practical to wear, people like it, and smaller watches resonate with the Asian market. 

It’s safe to say that Asian collectors are like no others. I can confidently say, based on insider information, that brands are closing branches in Europe, to expand them in Asia. So I guess the only way to profitability for them, is to respect and listen to their true customers. 

But the softer version of this would be, brands are listening, complications fatigue is real, we are de-gendering watches, and the collector maturity curve is reaching all time highs. 

Mr. Hader — Beda’a’s founder — didn’t show me this watch before its release. Not even a glimpse.

Which, if you read any other article of mine about Beda’a, usually means one thing: it’s gonna be epic. There’s no halfway presentation, no “what do you think of this direction?” moment. We’ve had enough conversations over our friendship, going back to my time in Dubai, for me to recognize when something is being built with intent versus when it’s playing safe or extending something that’s usual. That silence already framed the watch before even seeing it. Even the teaser video was dreamy.

Because the Angles Guichets is not an isolated release. It sits inside a short but already structured trajectory for the brand, and more specifically for the Angles line, which has become Beda’a’s core design platform in under three years. What’s important to understand is that this is not just “a new model with a complication.” It’s the first time the Angles architecture is forced to deal with the constraints of an aperture display, which is a completely different problem than a central-hand or small seconds watch.

The Angles case is already established at this point. You’re dealing with a 37 mm format, but more importantly a multi-plane octagonal construction with three distinct stepped levels. It’s not a flat octagon in the Gérald Genta sense, and it’s not trying to echo the Royal Oak or Nautilus lineage. The geometry is sharper, more segmented, and it integrates the lugs into the case body in a way that removes the visual break you typically rely on to reset proportions. That becomes critical here because once you remove hands and most dial furniture, the case becomes the primary and only visual regulator of the watch.

Previous Angles executions had hands, a clear hierarchy between dial and case, and enough familiar elements to stabilize the composition. With the Guichets, that hierarchy disappears. The dial becomes a surface with two apertures, and everything else has to carry meaning through proportion, alignment, and negative space. This is where Sohaib Maghnam’s involvement becomes obvious, not in a superficial way, but in how controlled the watch feels. He is Beda’a director and designer after all.

If you’ve followed his work under his own name, you already know he doesn’t design in a “traditional” fashion. His watches are about geometry, futuristic elements, and a very deliberate use of empty space. That language translates directly here, but under much tighter constraints, because aperture watches are unforgiving.

Historically, they’ve always been a niche within watchmaking. Early 20th century pocket and wristwatch executions experimented with digital-style displays, but it’s really with pieces like the Cartier Tank à Guichets that the format becomes codified. You reduce the watch to windows, remove hands entirely, and force time to be read through apertures alone. Later interpretations, like the Audemars Piguet Star Wheel or F.P. Journe Vagabondage, take that concept further mechanically, but they all share the same constraint: once you remove hands, the case is everything. Alignment, spacing, and motion all become immediately visible.

Beda’a approaches this through a relatively low-key technical base, which is where things get more interesting than they first appear. They’re using a modified Peseux 7001, one of the most respected ultra-thin hand-wound calibres still in circulation. At around 2.5 mm thickness, it has been used across independent watchmaking precisely because it offers a stable, slim foundation. A characteristic of the Angles collection. 

Here, the gear train has been modified to run on a 24-hour cycle, effectively halving the rotational speed of the hour wheel. That changes the behavior of the entire system. When you alter ratios like that, especially in a manually wound calibre with a 42 hour power reserve, torque distribution becomes a real consideration. And that’s before accounting for the fact that you’re now driving discs instead of hands, which introduces additional inertia.

The display itself confirms that this is not a traditional jump hour watch. The upper aperture uses a continuous 24-hour disc where the sun and moon travel across a scale from 6 AM to 6 PM, then transition into night. Mechanically, this places the watch closer to a rotating disc display than to an instantaneous jumping system. There’s no sharp jump, no snappy transition. Instead, the indication is progressive, almost imperceptible, which aligns with the conceptual approach of the watch.

The lower aperture handles the minutes unconventionally. The disc moves, while a fixed arrow integrated into the dial serves as the reference point. This inversion, where the indicator remains static and the scale moves, is simple in principle but extremely sensitive in execution. Any play in the disc or inconsistency in alignment becomes immediately visible. Beda’a limits the display to five-minute increments, which is not a shortcut but a necessary constraint given the scale and the visual language of the watch. With apertures this reduced and a dial this closed, legibility depends on restraint.

The dial itself plays a bigger role than it might initially seem. It’s not a flat surface but a closed structure that follows the geometry of the case. Without that relief, the watch would collapse visually. By introducing depth through form rather than additional elements, the watch maintains its profile while still offering a sense of structure. 

Contextually, Beda’a occupies a very specific position. It’s part of a small but increasingly relevant group of Middle Eastern independent brands that are not just assembling watches, but building identifiable design languages. That distinction matters. For a long time, the region has been associated with consumption of high horology, not production. Brands like Beda’a are shifting that narrative, and they’re doing it through consistency rather than isolated releases.

The Angles collection has already demonstrated that it resonates with collectors. Limited executions selling out within 24 hours is not just a marketing point, it’s an indication that the design language is understood and accepted. Introducing a complication into that framework is always a risk, because it can easily disrupt what made the original pieces work. Here, that balance is maintained.

Which naturally leads to the question of positioning, and inevitably, the GPHG. At around 1,800 CHF, the Angles Guichets sits in a segment that has historically been competitive, particularly in categories focused on time-only or light complications. What works in its favor is not mechanical complexity in the traditional sense, but clarity of concept. The watch has a defined objective and follows it through without unnecessary additions. That kind of coherence tends to resonate with juries when it’s executed properly.

Sohaib Maghnam’s role in this shouldn’t be reduced to aesthetics. The constraints imposed by the Angles case, the modified 7001 architecture, and the demands of an aperture display mean that every decision is interconnected. If you look at his independent work, the same principles appear consistently: controlled geometry, careful use of space, and a refusal to rely on decorative shortcuts. Check out the new Moharib piece. Here, those principles are applied within the structure of a brand that already has its own identity, which is a more complex exercise than designing from scratch.

The Angles Guichets is clear and strong competitor in the indies scene. It operates in a more interesting space, where design discipline, mechanical adaptation, and price positioning intersect. At 1,800 CHF, you’re entering a range where comparisons become unavoidable, from Nomos complications to other entry-level independents. What Beda’a offers here is not finishing excess or mechanical spectacle, but a controlled integration of design and mechanics that is rarely this resolved at this level.

Beda’a has been on the magazine before, and it will stay there. Not out of familiarity, but because it’s one of the few young brands that is actually building something coherent over time. The Angles Guichets doesn’t try to redefine the aperture watch. It simply shows that Beda’a understands exactly what it’s doing, and more importantly, where it’s going.

Specs: 

• Movement: modified Peseux 7001 for 24-hour day and night indication, hand wound.
• Dimensions: 34 x 37 x 6.3 mm (L x W x H)
• Case Material: 316L stainless steel with a matching buckle.
• Dial: lacquered, 24-hour cycle.
• Hands: Sun and Moon indicators, Day and Night, polished
• Water resistance: 3 ATM
• Sapphire crystal
• Strap: calfskin leather, embossed,stitched.
• Reference: BQAS0526-37
• Swiss Made

Visit bedaawatches.com to discover the new collection.

I kept going back to the Sero Signature more than I expected, and that’s a huge compliment. It’s one of those watches that only starts to make sense once you begin placing it against other things you already know, once you start measuring it mentally against references that defined this category in the first place. Not to say that it’s « du vu et revu » as in something we’ve seen before, but to hammer down my point that there’s a clear respect of the traditional way of doing things.

Because whether Sero intended it or not, this watch lives in a space that’s already been written. You don’t approach Breguet numerals, a slim manually wound profile, and a restrained case without inevitably entering the orbit of watches like the Patek Philippe Calatrava ref. 96, the Vacheron Constantin ref. 6073, or even more modern reinterpretations like the F.P. Journe Chronomètre Bleu. Different price brackets, different intentions, but the same underlying language. Again, a compliment.

And that’s where the Signature becomes interesting. Not because it competes with those watches (it doesn’t) but because it clearly understands the framework they established.

The case proportions are the first indicator. 37.5mm is the easy number to read (sweet!), but the 46.5mm lug-to-lug is where the watch really positions itself. It stretches just enough to avoid that compact, almost fragile stance you get with smaller Calatrava-style pieces. It wears more like certain oversized references from the 40s, where lugs carried more visual weight and extended the watch across the wrist. It’s a subtle shift, but it changes the entire posture of the watch.

The 9.5mm thickness is exactly where it should be, and that’s largely due to the Sellita SW210-1. There’s nothing mind blowing about that movement, but from a construction standpoint, it’s coherent. Around 3.35mm in height, manual winding, stable architecture. It allows the case to remain slim without forcing the watch into ultra-thin territory, which often introduces compromises in durability or water resistance; AKA having to take it off to wash your hand. The 100 meters rating here is not just a spec, it tells you the case has been built with actual use in mind. 

But to get into the main part, the dial is where Sero takes a more deliberate position.

Engraving the numerals directly into the dial instead of printing or applying them changes the reading entirely. From a horological perspective, you move from surface decoration to taking away from the material itself. The numerals exist as negative space, and that means light behaves differently. You don’t get the crisp contrast of printed lacquer or the shadow line of applied markers. Instead, you get something more variable, more dependent on angle and intensity.

This is closer, in spirit, to how traditional guilloché dials interact with light, although achieved through machining rather than hand-turned patterns. The vertical brushing underneath adds a directional grain, which keeps the dial from becoming too static while maintaining control over reflections. It’s a measured approach. 

The consistency of execution is what stands out here. The chemin de fer, the numerals, even the signature text all follow the same engraved logic. That avoids the common issue where different techniques compete on the same dial, printed tracks next to applied markers next to stamped logos. Here, everything is resolved within the same surface.

The handset is another area where the watch holds together, and honestly the first thing I noticed. Heat-blued spade hands, correctly dimensioned, doing exactly what they’re supposed to do. The minute hand reaches the track with precision, which is something you’d expect, but not something you always get. The hour hand sits cleanly within the numeral ring, and the seconds hand remains visually light. 

It’s basic watchmaking discipline, but it’s often where watches lose coherence.

Looking at the different dial configurations, the variations don’t try to reinvent the watch. The silver and champagne dials stay closest to classical references, where the engraving becomes more subtle and the watch reads almost like a study in restraint, to be a little more poetic. The blue dial increases contrast and sharpens the overall presence, pushing it slightly closer to contemporary tastes.

The red dial is the outlier, but it still respects the underlying architecture, which keeps it from feeling disconnected. A little different, but different strokes for different folks.

Now, where the Signature really needs to be placed is in its price segment. At around €1,100 to €1,200, it sits in a very competitive space. You’re looking at watches like the Nomos Tangente, the Longines Heritage Classic, vintage Omegas…

Most of those watches take a different route. Nomos focuses on Bauhaus minimalism and in-house calibres, Longines leans heavily into archival design, vintage Omega Genèves are iconic and reliable. Sero doesn’t really sit directly with any of them. It’s closer to what smaller independent or collector-driven brands have been trying to do in recent years, tightening classical codes rather than reinterpreting them.

That’s also where the watch finds a bit of cultural relevance. There’s been a clear shift in the last few years, especially among younger collectors, away from oversized, overly expressive pieces toward something more controlled. Not necessarily vintage, but informed by it. The Signature fits into that movement as a very clear participant.

That doesn’t make it perfect. The “Signature” text still feels slightly more present than it needs to be when you look at how low-key everything else is, and the longer lug-to-lug will not work for every wrist. But when you place it where it actually belongs, within that €1,000 segment, against watches that often get one or two things right and miss the rest, the Signature holds together in a way that’s harder to dismiss.

What was interesting, and something that came up in conversation with Sergino, the founder, after I shared my thoughts, is that none of this is accidental. The positioning, the proportions, even the way the watch sits in this slightly uncomfortable but very deliberate space, it’s all been thought through.

And that also reflects in how they’re bringing it to market. The initial presale starts just under the €1,000 mark, with the first pieces at €899 before taxes, then €999 during the two-week window, before settling at €1,199 retail. It’s a detail worth mentioning because, at that earlier entry point, the watch shifts slightly in how you evaluate it. You’re no longer just comparing it to its immediate peers, you’re looking at it against a much broader field, and in that context, the level of attention given to proportions, dial execution, and overall coherence becomes harder to overlook.

If I were to discribe it in 1 word, I’d say traditional.

Check them out here.

I didn’t start paying attention to Lebond because of a launch, a price point, or a promotional Instagram reel. I paid attention because the brand felt… quiet? And in today’s watch landscape, quiet is rare as heck. Especially when the brand has more to it than just being a watch brand, hence the title.

Lebond is a young independent brand founded by Asier Mateo, and that matters. You can feel the difference between a project born from a marketing plan and one born from a personal background. In this case, architecture is the foundation. That doesn’t mean every watch looks like a building. It means decisions are made structurally, not decoratively. (Another reason for me to flex my architecture background).

After spending some time exploring the brand, something became clear: Lebond is not trying to enter the watchmaking industry. It’s trying to occupy a position closer to design culture than to traditional horological posturing. And I LOVE that for them.

Okay let’s get into the brand. There are currently two pillars in the Lebond universe: Attraction and Siza. That’s it. And that restraint already tells you a lot.

The Attraction, is the conceptual core. Inspired by Antoni Gaudí’s unbuilt Hotel Attraction project, it’s the watch where Lebond allowed itself to be the most expressive. Soft titanium case, disc-based display, strong architectural logic. It’s the piece that explains why the brand exists.

But what interested me after spending time on the brand’s website is the Siza. Because that’s where you understand that Lebond is not a one-idea studio.

The Siza is named after Álvaro Siza, and the watch reflects exactly what you’d expect if you know his work. It’s quieter. More rectilinear. More disciplined. Stainless steel case, slimmer profile, conventional hands, but still a very deliberate use of negative space. The typography is calm. The proportions are carefully balanced. Nothing is trying to be clever.

Side note (and I sincerely apologize for making this way too personal), whenever Álvaro Siza is mentioned, expect an unsolicited amount of fan girling from yours truly. You do not want to know about my 6 months project analysis project on his Huamao Museum of Art Education.

Okay let’s get back to Lebond. If the Attraction is about speculative architecture, the Siza is about lived architecture. Buildings you inhabit without noticing until you start paying attention.

What both watches share is a rejection of excess. Case sizes are reasonable. Finishes are controlled. Movements are chosen for reliability and thinness. ETA for that Swiss spice. 

What I appreciate most is that Lebond doesn’t hide behind the “independent brand” narrative. There’s no attempt to artificially dramatize production numbers or craftsmanship. The watches are well made, thoughtfully designed, and positioned honestly. That’s it. No myth-building required. 

A design studio designing like a design studio should.

Lebond feels closer to furniture design, industrial design, or even publishing than to traditional Swiss watchmaking. I mean that as a compliment actually. Just look at their packaging !

The pricing reflects that mindset. Lebond is not trying to be disruptive through undercutting, nor aspirational through artificial scarcity. The watches are priced where they should be given the materials, design work, and production quality. You’re paying for coherence, not for status signaling.

The conversation with Asier felt natural from the start. When someone builds from a personal place, the dialogue is easier. You’re not negotiating narratives, you’re exchanging references.

Lebond doesn’t feel like a brand in a hurry. And that’s probably its biggest strength. In a market obsessed with visibility, choosing to carve your own way is almost radical.

I’ll keep watching what they do. Slowly. On their terms. And that already says enough.

Sitting between design and horology, that’s what I’ve been desperately craving to see from new independent brands.

I don’t usually write about jewelry watches. Not because I dislike them, but because most of them don’t survive five minutes of serious horological scrutiny. They tend to sit in a comfortable but weird zone where “craftsmanship” is mentioned more than it is demonstrated, and where decoration is applied rather than integrated.
Simon Brette is one of the very few contemporary watchmakers who forced me to reconsider that position.

What initially caught my attention with Brette was not the visual impact of his Chronomètre Artisans watches, but the intellectual structure behind them. There is a clarity of intent and purpose that immediately separates his work from the current wave of independent “expressive” watchmaking: Nothing feels decorative for the sake of seduction.

Simon Brette comes from a serious horological background. Restoration, movement construction, high-end independent environments, and a long exposure to traditional chronometry. This matters because it explains why his watches are built from the inside out. The Chronomètre Artisans project is not a design exercise wrapped around a movement. It is a mechanical project that intentionally invites other crafts to intervene without compromising its core. That’s my architecture background speaking, by the way.

At its foundation, the Chronomètre Artisans movement is a manually wound calibre designed with classical chronometric principles in mind. Large balance, stable frequency, clear gear train architecture…. The finishing is deliberate and controlled. Anglage is present but not exaggerated. Black polishing is used generously.

What makes Brette’s Joaillerie pieces particularly interesting is that they do not treat decoration as an external layer. Engraving, gem-setting, and surface treatment are conceived alongside the case and movement, not added afterward. This is a crucial distinction. Too often, jewelry watches feel like a finished watch that someone decided to embellish. Here, the decorative crafts actively shape the object.

Each Joaillerie piece is unique, not as a marketing statement, but because repetition would contradict the process itself. Engraving patterns are drawn specifically for each case. Stone selection responds to those engravings. The setting techniques adapt to the geometry and thickness of the metal. There is no modularity. There is no scalability. This is slow, expensive, and fundamentally incompatible with volume-driven logic.

What impressed me most is Brette’s restraint. These watches could easily have fallen into excess. They didn’t. And we know about many who did. The gem-setting is precise and disciplined. Stones are chosen for color harmony and structural rhythm; the engravings are deep, architectural, and purposeful. There is no narrative overload, no symbolic storytelling forced onto the object. The watch is allowed to stand on its construction.

This approach places Brette in a very specific position within contemporary independent watchmaking. He is not trying to reinvent horology. He is not chasing disruption. He is quietly re-establishing a hierarchy of priorities where mechanics come first, crafts serve structure, and aesthetics emerge as a consequence rather than a goal.

Culturally, this matters. We live in a period when independent watchmaking is often evaluated by its visibility and shock value. Brette’s work resists that logic. His watches are an acquired taste. They require observation rather than instant reaction.

This is also why writing about his Joaillerie pieces felt relevant within the framework of my new art magazine, Ariste. Ariste exists to explore objects that don’t fit neatly into predefined categories. Brette’s watches belong exactly there. They are not purely horological objects, nor are they jewelry in the conventional sense. They are constructed works, born from technical discipline and aesthetic restraint.

Simon Brette represents a form of independence that is often overlooked: one rooted in method rather than attitude. His Chronomètre Artisans Joaillerie pieces are not statements about luxury or creativity. They are demonstrations of control. Control over technique, over collaboration, and over when to stop.

I have always believed that true watchmaking begins long before a movement is chosen. It starts with intention. With a reason to exist that goes beyond filling a price point or following a trend. I am naturally drawn to watches that know why they are here. Not because they are loud or technically inflated, but because they feel considered. Honest in what they try to express and disciplined in how they go about it. That is where my respect begins. And that is why the Venezianico Redentore Bellanotte resonated with me almost immediately.

This is also the first time Time Telling Magazine works with and covers a Venezianico watch, and that matters. We are careful with the brands we choose to align ourselves with. Not everything needs to be covered, and not every watch deserves a platform. Venezianico felt like a brand we genuinely want to be associated with. There is a clarity to what they are doing, a cultural grounding that feels real rather than manufactured, and that made the decision straightforward.

I unboxed the Bellanotte at home, in a quiet moment, with my girlfriend and business partner, who’s also the person responsible for the beautiful photographs highlighting the watch’s charm. 

She has seen enough watches come through my hands to know when something is just another object and when it is something else. Her reaction was immediate and unfiltered. A short pause, then a genuine gasp. Not because of a logo or a complication, but because the dial felt like a scene rather than a surface. That moment confirmed what I was already sensing. This watch communicates visually, even to someone who is not looking at it through an expert lens.

The more time I spent with it, the more that impression settled in. The Bellanotte does certainly rely on instant impact. And then, you start noticing how it is built: 

The dial is structured, layered, and restrained. The aventurine background behaves like a real night sky. Throughout the day, as the light changed, it shifted subtly on the wrist. Indoors it felt almost matte and quiet. Outside, it came alive without ever becoming loud.

The off center time display in mother of pearl turned out to be one of my favorite details in daily use. It catches the light just enough to remain legible though its size, but it never pulls your attention away from the rest of the dial. During a busy day moving between meetings, cafés, and streets, checking the time felt secondary. The watch was more often noticed by others than consulted by me, which says a lot about where its strength lies.

That day, the amount of attention it attracted surprised me. Not the usual watch conversations about brands or price, but real curiosity. People leaned in. They asked what they were looking at. Friends who are art collectors and gallery owners were particularly struck by it. They didn’t talk about watches at all. They talked about composition, depth, and narrative. About how the bas relief architecture creates perspective, how the monuments of Venice are read through light and shadow rather than lines. One of them mentioned it felt closer to a miniature sculptural piece than a traditional dial, and that observation stayed with me, as an architecture student.

In terms of proportions, the Bellanotte fits exactly where I need it to. At 40mm, this is as big as I am willing to go. I have small wrists and I am unforgiving when it comes to balance. This watch wears clean and composed. It never feels oversized or performative. It sits comfortably and disappears when you want it to. Especially for someone like me who dresses in tailored clothing. Nobody wants a lump on their wrist…

The movement inside, Automatic Cal. Seiko NH05A, does its job without demanding attention, and I appreciate that honesty. It is reliable, compact, and chosen to support the design rather than compete with it, seeing that its am “ulta-thin” movement.

This collaboration happened thanks to Elena, the marketing manager at Venezianico, who immediately understood our editorial direction and our values. There was no need to exaggerate the story or reshape the watch to fit a narrative. The alignment was natural, and those are the relationships I value most, as the magazine’s president.

Another thank you goes to my friend @thewatchcaliber for his generosity and kindness.

Here are the Specs of the Venezianico Redentore Bellanotte:

CASE MATERIAL: 316L Stainless Steel

FEATURES: Off-center dial

MATERIALS: Aventurine, mother-of-pearl, brass

DIMENSIONS: Ø40mm, 46.7mm lug to lug, 11.5mm thickness

MOVEMENT: Automatic Cal. Seiko NH05A

CRYSTAL: Sapphire crystal with antireflective coating

BEZEL: 316L Stainless steel

WR: 5ATM (=50mt)

STRAP: Genuine leather, Made in Italy

Price: 700€