They really don’t make dive watches like this anymore.

I got the chance to spend about a month with the Jacques Bianchi Marseille JB300 Indigo Maris. This Grade 5 titanium tool watch reminded me why purpose-built dive watches still deserve a place in today’s collections, even in a world where most of them will never see more than a swimming pool.

Jacques Bianchi Marseille has never tried to build accessories. The French brand has always been about utility first. Founded in Marseille, a city whose identity is inseparable from the Mediterranean, Jacques Bianchi built its reputation supplying professional diving watches to military units, firefighters, and underwater professionals during the 1980s. That heritage isn’t used as marketing decoration today. It genuinely shapes every watch that leaves the workshop.

The JB300 Indigo Maris continues that philosophy. It is a modern interpretation of a proper dive watch, built around a Grade 5 titanium case, 300 meters of water resistance, a no nonsense dial and proportions that prioritize function over flash. It doesn’t chase vintage trends, nor does it try to reinvent what a dive watch should be. Instead, it focuses on doing the basics exceptionally well, which turns out to be far rarer than it sounds.

After living with it for several weeks, I realized that the JB300 isn’t the kind of watch that impresses you because of one spectacular feature. It’s the accumulation of small decisions that make it incredibly enjoyable to wear every single day.

The first thing I noticed was how compact it actually feels on the wrist. On paper, the numbers suggest a serious dive watch. On the wrist, it wears considerably smaller. That’s largely thanks to one design choice that I wish more brands paid attention to: the case to dial ratio. The dial occupies much more visual space than the surrounding case, giving the watch an openness that tricks your eye into perceiving it as smaller. Combined with relatively short lugs and the lightness of titanium, it sits flatter than expected and disappears under a sleeve without feeling oversized. It’s one of those details you don’t appreciate from product photos but immediately notice once you start wearing it.

Then there’s the titanium. Titanium has become something of a buzzword over the last few years, but not all titanium watches feel the same. Here, the material makes perfect sense because it reinforces the personality of the watch instead of existing as another selling point.

Something is reassuring about the way this case feels. It isn’t precious. It isn’t trying to protect itself from daily life. It invites it. Whether I was walking through the city, spending time by the sea or simply throwing it on without thinking, it always gave me the impression that it was built to handle far more than I would ever ask of it. That’s exactly how a proper tool watch should feel.

Another area where Jacques Bianchi absolutely nailed it is the lume. I’m not exaggerating when I say it’s among the best I’ve experienced recently. It charges quickly, glows intensely and stays legible for hours. More importantly, the application is perfectly balanced across the dial, making nighttime reading almost effortless.

Lume is often treated as something enthusiasts photograph under UV lights for Instagram. In reality, it’s one of the most practical features on any sports watch. Whether you’re checking the time in a dark room, on an early morning flight or during a night walk, having immediate readability without needing to search for light becomes something you genuinely appreciate.

That same philosophy extends to the entire dial. I’ve reached a point where I value legibility more than visual complexity. Beautiful dials are everywhere. Truly functional ones are surprisingly rare. The JB300’s dial communicates information instantly. Large hands, generous contrast, uncluttered printing and sensible proportions mean your eyes find the time almost unconsciously. It sounds obvious for a dive watch, but many modern divers sacrifice readability in favor of texture, polished surfaces or unnecessary design flourishes.

Of course, a dive watch ultimately has to deliver confidence around water. The JB300 offers 300 meters of water resistance, which is comfortably beyond anything I’ll realistically require. But numbers alone aren’t what matter here. The brand’s entire identity has always revolved around professional underwater use, so that specification carries a different weight than it might elsewhere. It’s reassuring knowing that the watch wasn’t designed around a marketing department’s checklist. Water resistance is part of its DNA rather than an impressive statistic printed on a website.

By the end of the month, I found myself reaching for it more often than I expected. Not because it was the most expensive watch on my desk or the flashiest, but because it never gave me a reason not to wear it. That’s probably the highest compliment I can give any watch.

The JB200 Marégraphe II

While spending time with the JB300 Indigo Maris, Jacques Bianchi also unveiled its latest creation, the JB200 Marégraphe II, and it feels like a natural evolution rather than a replacement. Building on the success of the original Marégraphe, which sold out in just four minutes, the new version introduces a redesigned case with sharper lines, a left handed “destro” layout inspired by military diving watches, the brand’s first enamel dial made from twenty successive layers and individually applied indexes. 

Just as importantly, every Soprod automatic movement is now individually regulated to run within chronometer-like tolerances and delivered with its own precision certificate. Limited to 300 pieces, it shows a company that’s refining every detail without abandoning the practical philosophy that made collectors notice them in the first place.

Jacques Bianchi is about the basics. The fundamentals. A comfortable case. Outstanding lume. Excellent legibility. Genuine water credibility. Materials that encourage you to wear the watch instead of protecting it.

Such things don’t make headlines anymore, but they make great watches… So If you want to see how the JB300 looked after a month on my wrist, including a proper beach session where a watch like this actually belongs, head over to my Instagram. That’s where this one really came to life.

I had the immense honor of visiting Greubel Forsey’s manufacture in La Chaux-de-Fonds, Switzerland. And let me tell you, this is what true high watchmaking looks like. This is where it is born. This is where the meaning of perfection is found. I reached this, unsponsored or paid-for, conclusion thanks to the exclusive access that I had to the different departments of the 3 floors of the manufacture. Each so different, yet so connected in order and function. 

This visit came to happen as a result of my friendship with the wonderful ladies at 289 consulting. A consultancy and international PR agency for watchmaking and luxury brands, operating from Geneva and working with companies and individuals from all around the world.

Our relationship is simple: give Walid the chance to be a nerd, and he will go above and beyond to show you how much he loves watchmaking. Which some of you may know already, and the new ones will get to discover with this article.

Greubel Forsey is then the perfect brand for the kind of agreement we have. Because the company believes that in the horological world, there’s still much to be done. Much more to be invented.

The brand was founded by Stephen Forsey and Robert Greubel, They met while working on complicated timepieces in the 90s. In 2004, they founded the brand and introduced their first invention: the Double Tourbillon 30°. Which redefined what a regulating organ could be by improving chronometric performance through architecture and geometry. This was the start of a long series of inventions, each of which addressed a specific mechanical problem.

“When no solution exists, invention becomes the only path forward”

I admit that I know a lot more about Greubel Forsey today than I did 3 months ago. 

Sure, I have my top 3 G.F collections and watches (which we’ll get to in a moment), but after finishing my visit with the brand’s COO, Mr. David Bernard, I was kindly gifted the latest volume of their book series “Le Carnet”. I went through it, cover to cover, on my flight back home from Geneva. Today, as I write this article, it’s sitting in front of me as a manual and a friend, guiding me through the fascinating world Stephen and Robert created. 

The visits starts from the farm. Yes, farm. Greubel Forsey’s home is an atelier, a workshop. Not a factory. Because it was built as a natural extension of a former 17th-century farmhouse. The  building was chosen because it provided quiet air, stable temperatures, natural light, and sufficient space to work without dividing teams across multiple sites. 

The interior adopts the same philosophy because the engineers sit next to the designers, and watchmakers are close to those finishing their components. Workflow? Smooth. It’s all about being a family and collaborating. Greubel Forsey has all the important departments in-house, including their hand-finishing atelier and decoration specialists who handle tasks like black polishing, grained surfaces, mirror bevels, etc. It’s a complete space that allows the brand to roll out state-of-the-art timepieces in 5 different collections. How many a year? Around 200. 

See, that in itself is an interesting number with a lot of background. Greubel Forsey cares about 1 thing: pursuing invention. Meaning original ideas with 0 compromise.

And for a brand to be able to do that, well, they need their independence. Between 2020 and 2025, the brand chose consolidation. These years were meant to align their structure, focus on research and production, and ensure independence. Just a year before, they used to make 100 pieces per year. The evolution was the fruit of continuity between the teams and a more fluid transition from development to execution. But to go back to independence. Greubel Forsey repurchased the shares held by Richemont since 2006, and merged with CompliTime, the entity that had been the foundation of the business. All for the sake of alignment, because you can’t have 7 different captains steer a ship in a single direction. 

While witnessing the process is extremely enriching and fascinating, I was very much looking forward to handling and taking a closer look at my favorite Greubel Forsey watches.

Top of my list: the Hand Made collection. I am a sucked for an over-engineered time-only watch. The Hand Mades aren’t just excellently engineered, they are also breathtakingly beautiful. As they put it: “The Hand Made collection represents the highest expression of traditional watchmaking. Every component is built entirely by hand using classical tools. Production is measured in thousands of hours of human gesture. Hand Made expresses a complete commitment to traditional manufacturing and finishing.”

95 % of the Hand Made 1’s components, including the balance spring, are produced entirely by hand. It’s the result of approximately 6,000 hours of work, where each timepiece is assembled and adjusted following the atelier’s traditional methods. This is a white gold, 43.5 mm time-only watch with 60 hours of chronometric power reserve. 

The Hand Made 2, my absolute favorite, is a three-hand watch with a 40.9mm diameter white gold case, which requires 5,000 hours to bring to life. It’s offered as a millésimé edition of two to three pieces per year. Crazy. 

There’s another collection that every watch nerd gushes over. As a matter of fact, any nerd of any kind. The Mechanical Nano. 

“ The Mechanical Nano collection stems from Greubel Forsey’s research into nanomechanics and extreme energy efficiency. These timepieces explore reduced mass, lower friction, and novel materials to deliver high performance within minimal volumes and energy budgets. ” 

The first watch in this collection, the watch Mark Zuckerberg was spotted wearing: the Nano Foudroyante. It draws energy directly from the escapement and manages it at the nanojoule level. The 37.9mm timepiece integrates a nano-foudroyante display with Greubel Forsey’s first flying tourbillon and manual-wind monopusher flyback chronograph. 

This visit helped me see things differently. As watch journalists, connecting with these pieces and the people behind them is what makes our writing and content resonate with our communities. We are, in a way, responsible for the communication between clients/enthusiasts and these brands. 

I noticed many things at the Greubel Forsey manufacture. The very young staff, for example. When you think about the people behind these art pieces, you’d assume that they would be grey-haired with a belly and a messy corner. What I saw were men and women of my age, Gen-Zers, working on all sorts of crazy details. The workflow is beyond professional and perfect, yet the energy was so light and fun. All with AirPods on and cool watches from different brands. You can tell when a company is running a strict program, and the energy is tense. But I found myself asking more questions and shaking everyone’s hands just to stay a bit longer. 

I made a video and shared many stories and photographs that you can enjoy on my Instagram.

Thank you to David Bernard, Eva Polat, 289 consulting, as well as the entire Greubel Forsey team.

Before watches became my passion and profession, aviation was my obsession. 

Growing up in Morocco, I didn’t just find aviation interesting. It was the obsession. I spent countless hours reading about military aircraft, navigation systems, famous squadrons, and pilot training. While other kids were watching cartoons, I was busy learning things that had absolutely no practical use for a teenager: Watches and Planes. My plan was simple: Military school, aviation school, cockpit.

Life eventually had other ideas, and today I spend my days surrounded by watches, as a watch journalist, and Architectural plans, as a future architect, instead of airplanes. Yet every once in a while, a watch appears that reminds me why these worlds aren’t actually that different. All built around precision. All are built around engineering. All attract people who become obsessed with details that most others never notice.

Laco and the Origins of the Pilot’s Watch

The Laco Kempten did exactly that. The first thing that struck me wasn’t the history, the movement, or even the dial. It was the feeling of modernity with a few retro touches sprinkled on top. The Kempten feels like somebody genuinely took a pilot’s watch from the 1940s and figured out a way to make it wearable in 2026.

That distinction is important because very few brands can claim the legitimacy Laco brings to this category.

Whenever pilot watches are discussed, names like IWC usually dominate the conversation. The Big Pilot has become the benchmark against which almost everything else is measured. It’s also impossible to ignore pieces like the Stowa Flieger Classic, the various Zenith Pilot models, or even more recent entries from brands like Longines.

Yet the funny thing is that Laco doesn’t need to borrow credibility from any of them.

The company was founded in 1925 in Pforzheim and became one of only five manufacturers entrusted with producing the original Beobachtungsuhren, better known as B-Uhren – meaning “Observation Watch” in German. Alongside IWC, Stowa, Wempe, and A. Lange & Söhne, Laco supplied navigation watches for military aviation. They were instruments designed to help crews navigate through the sky.

The Kempten is part of Laco’s Original collection. The watch follows the classic Type B layout, arguably one of the most recognizable pilot watch dials ever created. Large minute numerals occupy the outer track while the hours sit inside a smaller inner circle. It’s a layout that confuses newcomers and delights enthusiasts because it immediately tells you this wasn’t designed for aesthetics. It was designed for navigation.

Looking at the dial feels like looking at a cockpit instrument. The oversized sword hands, the luminous triangle at twelve o’clock, the stark contrast between black and white, everything exists for a reason. And then there’s the complete absence of distractions: No date window. No decorative textures. No unnecessary text. Just information.

The more time I spent with the watch, the more I appreciated how refreshing that felt.

Modern watchmaking often suffers from the need to constantly add things. More complications. More colors. More details. The Kempten achieves the opposite effect. It strips everything away until only the essentials remain.

What’s particularly impressive is how Laco managed to preserve the character of the original B-Uhren while completely transforming the wearability. The historical pieces measured around 55mm. Fantastic if you’re navigating an aircraft over Europe. Less fantastic if you’re trying to wear one in everyday life.

The Handwound 39mm Laco Pilot Watch ORIGINAL KEMPTEN

The Kempten comes in at 39mm, and I genuinely think this might be the sweet spot for a traditional pilot watch. At 39mm, the watch retains all the authority of the original design without becoming cumbersome. The proportions feel incredibly well judged. The relatively compact dimensions combined with the long, flowing lugs create a watch that wears larger than its measurements suggest while remaining comfortable on virtually any wrist.

This is where I think the Kempten has a real advantage over many of its competitors. The modern IWC Big Pilot is iconic, but it remains a large watch. Many traditional watches of this category continue chasing oversized dimensions in the name of authenticity. 

Another detail I found myself appreciating, since the watch comes in different variation options, was the movement choice. The one I chose houses the Sellita SW210, a hand-wound Swiss caliber delivering approximately 42 hours of power reserve. Which I believe is the only absolutely right choice for this watch.

An automatic movement would have been easier. The manual caliber is traditional and just cool. Because every day starts with a few turns of the crown that become a ritual, which emulates the original B-Uhren that pilots interacted with every day before heading out on a mission. 

The Erbstück finishing deserves a mention as well. Laco’s artificial aging process can be controversial depending on who you ask. Some enthusiasts love it while others prefer their watches pristine. Personally, I think it works exceptionally well here because it contributes to the illusion that makes the Kempten so compelling in the first place.

The subtle wear marks, aged lume, and weathered appearance give the impression that the watch already has stories to tell. Normally, I’d be skeptical of factory patina, but on a historically faithful pilot watch, it feels natural.

Final Thoughts:

What ultimately impressed me most about the Kempten is that it never feels like a “museum piece”. Many heritage-driven watches are fun to admire but difficult to connect with. They’re so focused on reproducing the past that they forget to exist in the present.

The Kempten captures the spirit of the original B-Uhren while remaining an excellent modern watch. It’s practical, comfortable, mechanically satisfying, and visually distinctive without trying too hard.

Most importantly, it reminded me of something I’d almost forgotten. The fascination that pushed me toward aviation all those years ago never really disappeared. It simply found another outlet.

The same curiosity that made me spend hours learning about aircraft is the curiosity that eventually drew me toward watches. Looking at the Kempten, those two passions suddenly feel connected. Maybe that’s why I enjoyed this watch so much.

Make sure to check out the Laco Website to purchase the piece and get a closer look at it on my Instagram page.

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.