As a second entry, chronologically in terms of stories being presented to the readers and as I visited the day after my initial visit to Phillips, Christie’s was always going to be an interesting one. We saw the depth of their catalogue – quite Patek-heavy as expected – while coming off the back of successful sales for all auction houses in Geneva, creating ripe conditions for compelling lots. I had been shown the catalogue a little ahead of time, and thanks to a close friend who works out of the NYC office I was able to have my mind set on seeing specific lots well in advance. Scrolling through the PDF file on the flight over, I made a vague mental list of lots I should absolutely handle, while understanding that I ought to remain curious by examining all of the display cases while in the room.

I knew that the John Shaw collection was one to look at, as my love for the Louis Cottier complications runs deep. My first experience with his work came at Sotheby’s in Geneva a year ago, in which their sale included a ref. 1415. Having been mistakenly presented with a 1st series ref. 2499 – somehow they shared lot numbers – my short time with a watch which has compelled the aesthetic and mechanical curiosities within me left an indelible impression on my understanding of Patek, much like their enamel signatures from that reference’s period. Christie’s sale included not just one, but two Cottier movements, cased in two different sizes; one being another example of a ref. 1415, but also to my excitement one of the two (or three, or “few”, depending on the source it seems) known ref. 542HU’s. Set within a tiny 28 millimetre yellow gold case, I knew it was one I absolutely had to handle, despite knowing it was far from a pristine example.

A side by side comparison of the 542HU and 1415: what stands out are the differing lug designs and hour hands

After a brief walk over from Admiralty MTR station, through crowded malls and elevated footpaths, I eventually found my way to the lobby. Quite imposing in its scale, it differs drastically from the more cramped and traditional confines of the Geneva preview spaces. Unhindered by the restrictions of hotel venues, Christie’s went positively bananas in their choice of space. The high ceilings guide one’s view through undulating sconces (of sorts?), while soft edges create a very sterile and serene atmosphere. A giant red Jeff Koons sculpture anchors the space, almost blocking the view down towards Central, which remains rather unappealing to my eyes but who am I to judge how to fill such a cavernous space… 

Not much more to say if I’m honest.

Now for the meat and potatoes of the visit, a trip up to the seventh floor to the preview space! I am welcomed by… apathy. Rather surprised by the cold shoulder, I walk up to the display cases to have a look at the lots. While I did have an initial list, I allowed myself to remain curious to let other watches catch my eye. The space wraps around the corner, with private viewing spaces occupying the centre. It’s quite linear, compared to some of the more square spaces of Sotheby’s in Geneva or Phillips in New York, so there was a mild sense of intrigue and adventure to turning left. While the Christie’s employees remained polite and attentive towards my trays, the specialists showed a distinct lack of interest in me. Despite having the entire preview space to myself for around half an hour, I was not greeted or given eye contact until I had to ask an employee about winding a watch. While I understand that auction houses aren’t the best environment for fostering community, a point I discussed with a friend who works out of their New York office, I still felt a little hard done by with such an attitude of disinterest. It contrasted heavily with my Phillips experience, where I was greeted warmly and given the time of day when I was around. To be honest, that made me want to return to their auctions, while with Christie’s I merely went as I had to meet people who happened to be bidding. First impressions matter, and I have never demanded undivided attention from specialists at any auction house, and it shows in the fact I didn’t exchange contacts with any of their specialists.

But enough about the space and people while lightening the mood, time to take a seat at their suede-lined tables and let’s get into some trays!

Under the (annoyingly) bright spotlights.

What appeared before me were some of the greatest Pateks that I’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing. Now, we have to remember that I’ve only been in the auction world for the last year so I don’t have any of the fantastical stories of years prior like others in the room, however I think I know an important watch when I see one! I settled upon three trays with an average of five lots per tray, and I took full advantage of having the preview room to myself in order to spend as much time with these watches as I could. The cover lots from within vintage Patek were true “money-no-object” pieces of brilliance, with my personal highlights being the ref. 1595 with a stunning cloissonné dial (Lot 2436) and a ref. 2524/1J minute repeating wristwatch (Lot 2240). Both watches seem very apt to highlight as some of the finest examples to demonstrate the brand’s savoir-faire at an aesthetic and technical level, but out of the lack of good pictures I’ve decided to focus on the latter.

For the 2524, most people would argue that Patek remains the standard for minute repeater complications; their tone and cadence are incredibly clear and precise, with them continuously fine-tuning the movements over many decades. Additionally, purists will raise the point that yellow gold is the best metal for such a complication, as it allows for the clearest resonance when chiming. Having handled minute repeaters in multiple metals, I am inclined to concur with them, as platinum and other tones of gold gave off a distinctly different tone (after a couple of goes and some very intense listening!). I also found its presentation within the reference to be rather elegant, letting the movement do the proverbial talking. Two dauphine hands glide over a silvered dial, with raised gold indices and an enamel signature highlighting the watch as the quintessential “Calatrava” design. The condition of the watch is stunning, with strong lugs, a clean dial with untouched enamel, all with its original buckle. Being one of the less than 50 known examples across all reference variations, such a strong example accompanied by its extract proved to be of great appeal to numerous bidders, fetching an all-in price of 3,302,000 HKD on the 26th of November.

Won’t be seeing another one of these again for a very long time…

On the other hand, I’ve chosen to include – much like my rundown on Phillips – a pocket watch! It remains quite clear that I have a penchant for their style and presence, as they stand out in size amongst their peers in the display cases. Within my hands rests a lovely ref. 600 pocket watch, sold by Parisian retailer Guillermin & Cie in 1936. Its three-tone dial stood out to me, as I have a soft spot for a mirror track… What I found most interesting in regards to the dial, is that the original sales invoice details how the pocket watch initially came with a different dial, but was subsequently changed by Guillermin “selon votre désir”, while also mentioning that it could be returned to its original specification in the eventuality that the owner did not like it. 

While the case condition remained quite strong, with visible hallmarks on the bow and a deep personalised engraving on the caseback – I’m unclear on whether it was done by Patek themselves, the extract isn’t visible on Christie’s website – it had some very clear signs of wash and wear. The all-important “accent grave” over “Genève” is missing, along with some substantial discoloration around the 12 o’clock numerals and the subsidiary seconds. The catalogue also fails to show that there is a screw missing in one of the bow latching points, which is not hard feat to overcome – my watchmaker has redone screws for some of my pocket watches – but clearly detracts from its overall appeal, that vague sense of “project” to some. Overall, the condition did not match the very strong estimate of 140,000 – 280,000 HKD, with the lot closing as unsold.

Not perfect, but charming nonetheless.

Interesting documentation: the ability to change dials back in case the original client didn’t like it!

Photo credit: Christie’s Hong Kong

As I was not putting any serious bids down, I felt rather reluctant to step into the bidding room apart for some brief observation. Much like any auction, the room itself remained rather quiet, with maybe 15% occupancy at best. The chairs were mainly taken by Asian bidders, with the odd remaining European one for some of the important vintage lots. The main point of note that I have from both auctions was the distinct lack of Americans in the room, mostly due to tariffs but also because the preference for buying – and subsequent networking around the events – tends to be better in Geneva or Monaco. The two banks of telephone bidders were consistently active, leading to yet another white glove sale this season on their first day, along with a wide global pool popping up on the screen for those manning the rostrum. Moving through their lots with relative ease and efficiency was my main takeaway, with polite persuasion by specialists and the auctioneer fuelling the bids. 

Overall, I realise I don’t have terribly much to add on to it; it felt like any other prestigious auction experience, especially as I was mostly alone save for one day when I went with an Italian dealer. His reputation precedes him, which became abundantly clear as staff rushed to get him a catalogue. It was mildly amusing, but I had also realised that auction fatigue had properly settled in. I was very happy to have seen their impressive selection, but I was more eager to get to my appointments with friends later that day. The bright lights and relatively intense atmosphere felt very claustrophobic, and I think I was tired from the facade we all put up in such professional spaces.

An unobstructed view of the stage!

My conclusion from it is that auctions are a fantastic place to see and handle watches, however the environment itself is not always the most welcoming. This was the hallmark of my experience at Christie’s, while also understanding that the business of auctioneering comes before its ability to nurture community. After some reflection, I’m not frustrated by it, instead I’ve come to understand the back end of this world. With such high expectations from clients – and the house’s reputation being put on a very public line – it makes sense to have priorities organised as such. I’m very fortunate to be able to take my time and choose exactly what I’m looking to achieve, so I’m allowed to let emotions lead. The passion which I see in those who work in the space remains palpable, but does take work in itself as a potential client to bring out of them and I feel guilty for taking time out of their point of focus. At the end of the day, I cannot dwell on it too long: I’m not a frequent participant, and I am still an unknown entity to most, so why rush the relationship or lie my way into one which won’t necessarily lead somewhere? I’ve got a great network of dealers who I buy and frequently seek advice from, and that fulfils my requirements for the foreseeable future. I remain excited for the next season that I’ll get to attend in person, with new people to meet and previously unknown watches to me peering through their display cases. I got to spend a lot of time with someone I now consider a good friend and an incredible mentor, so focusing on that for next time will arguably bring me as much joy as it does to handle such desirable watches!

Until next season!

Em –

Over a coffee at the Arabica in the Henderson’s lobby, a timeless classic sits under my friend’s cuff.

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 had a soft spot for brands that meant more than they showed.

 In a landscape where excess is often interpreted as legitimacy, Baume & Mercier has historically done something unfashionable: it stayed within reason. That reasonableness is often mistaken for timidity, or worse, irrelevance. In reality, it is far more difficult to sustain than provoke. Writing about Baume & Mercier today requires resisting the temptation to either nostalgically inflate its past or artificially dramatize its present. Neither is necessary.

The timing of this article matters. Baume & Mercier is at an inflection point, not because of a product launch, but because of a change in ownership that forces a re-evaluation of what the brand has been, what it became, and what it is allowed to be going forward. 

The acquisition by the Damiani Group is a structural event.

To understand its implications, one must first understand the long arc of the brand, and the particular role it has played in Swiss watchmaking for nearly two centuries.

Let’s look at the temporary first (the Damiani acquisition), then dig deep into those centuries of horological prowess.

When Richemont announced the sale of Baume & Mercier to the Damiani Group, the industry response was measured, which in itself is revealing. This was not a fire sale, but a recalibration. Under Richemont, Baume & Mercier occupied a peculiar but deliberate position. It was the group’s entry point into Swiss luxury watchmaking, positioned below the technical and artisanal heavyweights, but anchored in real heritage nevertheless. That positioning, while strategically understandable on paper, became increasingly difficult to defend in a market where the mid-luxury segment was being attacked simultaneously from below by aggressively priced independents and from above by aspirational icons. 

Look at Baume & Mercier like your regular Joe in today’s economy.

In my humble opinion, for Richemont the question was not whether Baume & Mercier lacked legitimacy. It was whether the group still had the structural patience to nurture a brand whose value proposition relied on balance not dominance. The answer, eventually, was no. We all know the Bernard family’s business spirit… even the Patek acquisition is a matter of time nowadays.

For Damiani, this business move is fundamentally different. This is a group whose identity has been built on Italian craftsmanship, emotional luxury, and a strong retail footprint rather than industrial scale watchmaking. Acquiring Baume & Mercier is not about absorbing a watch manufacture into an existing horological ecosystem. It is about adding a Swiss timekeeping pillar to a broader luxury narrative. Culturally, this matters. Strategically, it frees Baume & Mercier from internal comparisons it was never meant to win.

This move does not by any means signal a push toward haute horlogerie. It signals clarity and stability. Baume & Mercier is no longer required to justify its existence within a portfolio of overachievers. It is now asked to be coherent and most importantly itself.

But Where was Baume & Mercier Before the Sale ?

Before the acquisition, Baume & Mercier was stable, respected, and constrained. The brand was doing many things correctly: consistent design language, solid movements, reliable pricing, and one genuinely important technical step forward with the Baumatic calibre. What it lacked was narrative. Not because the story was weak, but because it wasn’t sticking out.

Under Richemont, Baume & Mercier often served as a bridge brand. That role comes with advantages, but also with limitations. Innovation had to be measured. Risks had to be contained. Identity had to remain broad enough to welcome first-time buyers without alienating existing clients. The result was a brand that rarely failed, but also rarely provoked serious debate. And in today’s market, that is a dangerous place to sit. Think of it as a mall brand…

Let’s Reminisce About The Good Ol’ Days.

Baume & Mercier was founded in 1830 by the Baume brothers in the Swiss Jura. Long before the modern luxury industry existed, the brand built its reputation on chronometric precision and international reach, particularly through its London branch, which served the British Empire. The partnership with Paul Mercier in 1918 marked a shift toward design direction and day-to-day elegance, placing the brand firmly within the Geneva tradition.

The Geneva Seal awarded in 1919 confirms that Baume & Mercier was once judged by the same technical and finishing standards as houses that later became untouchable icons. The brand’s historical role is a sort of stabilizer. It absorbed stylistic movements, technical norms, and cultural shifts, and translated them into watches that made sense to wear.

That role should not be underestimated. We all need that good reliable watch.

And with that came the icons.

Riviera 1973

The Riviera is the most misunderstood watch in Baume & Mercier’s history, largely because it arrived at the wrong time to be mythologized correctly. Introduced in 1973, the Riviera is one of the earliest steel sports watches with a distinct shaped bezel and integrated bracelet. Its twelve-sided bezel was architectural, designed to give the watch identity within that 70s Genta era.

Technically, early Rivieras relied on reliable automatic movements. The Riviera was never meant to compete on complication. It competed on relevance and wearability. As I mentioned earlier, it sits comfortably alongside other early steel sports watches of the era, but without the hypr that followed its peers. Its recent revival works precisely because the original concept was never stretched beyond its limits.

Classima 1960s onward

Classima is not a single reference, but an idea that matured into a collection. Emerging from Baume & Mercier’s long tradition of round, restrained dress watches, Classima represents the brand’s most consistent expression of proportion and understatement. An easy to wear gentleman’s dress watch, that’s it.

From a horological standpoint, Classima models used proven automatic and manual movements, prioritizing thinness and legibility. Their importance lies in, again, how easy they are to be worn and be lived with. This is like a Patrimony from Vacheron or early time-only Patek Calatravas ref. 96.

Capeland late 1990s

Capeland marks Baume & Mercier’s attempt to engage with sportier, more masculine watchmaking without abandoning elegance. Introduced in the late 1990s, the line incorporated chronographs, GMTs, and more assertive case profiles. Technically, these watches relied on well-regarded ébauches, often modified, rather than in-house.

The importance of the Capeland is “cultural” rather than mechanical. It reflects a period where Baume & Mercier tested the elasticity of its identity. And the 90s was just the era actually.Some executions were more convincing than others, but the collection demonstrated that the brand could expand without embarrassing itself.

Hampton 1994

Hampton is where Baume & Mercier leaned fully into design. Introduced in 1994, the rectangular case, inspired by Art Deco architecture, was distinguishable. It was a shaped watch committing to proportion.

From a technical perspective, Hampton models were straightforward. Their strength lay in case construction, dial layout, and wearability. Think of it as a Cartier Tank Americaine with a bit more spice.

Clifton 2013 and the Baumatic Era

Clifton initially presented itself as a modern classic, drawing from mid-century cues without nostalgia (Mad Men). Its true importance emerged with the introduction of the Baumatic calibre in 2018. This movement represents the most significant technical investment Baume & Mercier has made in decades.

The movement:

With a five-day power reserve, silicon escapement components (for ease of servicing), improved antimagnetic resistance, and extended service intervals, the Baumatic was intelligent and for the intelligent gentleman. It addressed real-world concerns. It also repositioned Baume & Mercier as a brand capable of meaningful technical decisions without doing too much.

This is where the brand subtly regained credibility among informed collectors.

These are obviously not all the brand’s models and important references, here’s a cool selection of watches from Baume & Mercier’s vast and rich catalog.

Baume & Mercier has never been about trends and hype. And the Damiani acquisition does not rewrite the brand’s history or diminishes it. It actually clarifies it. Freed from the need to compete internally within a watchmaking conglomerate, the brand has the opportunity to sharpen its voice. And let’s be honest, a brand like this belongs within that Italian spirit of valuing quality basics. Tiktok does not have to ruin everything guys.

And let me be clear,there is space in horology for brands that do not shout, that do not chase extremes, that understand their role and execute it with discipline. Baume & Mercier has done this before. The question now is not whether it can reinvent itself, but whether it can finally commit to being exactly what it is.

More brand and reference deep dives will follow. That’s the 2026 spirit, valuing what matters not what’s trending.

There are some projects I cover for Time Telling Magazine because they are interesting, and others because they feel like an ongoing conversation between me and the people behind them, and this one definitely belongs to the second group. Especially because it sits in a place I personally love, a place where Arabic artistic identity meets European watchmaking know-how (le savoir faire), and I always feel like that combination creates something that feels both ancient and modern at the same time. Whenever Abdulaziz and Arnaud work together, it feels like two worlds meeting somewhere in the middle, one driven by emotion and language, the other by precision and craft, and I think that is exactly why I naturally found myself pulled into this new story (again).

So when Abdulaziz told me about this new watch, he started the story very casually, the way he always does. He said his brother in law is the typical tech person who loves devices and numbers, but really hates having anything on his wrist. Nothing at all. Which already makes the idea of building him a watch kind of funny. But before his birthday, Abdulaziz’s sister told him she wanted a watch made specifically for her husband. Not bought, made. Something personal enough that even a person who does not like watches would probably wear it anyway. I immediately understood what she meant because their relationship has this warm and positive energy that you can actually see.

Their family even has a phrase that belongs to them. They always say “أبرك الساعات”, and for anyone who does not speak Arabic, it means something like “the luckiest hours” or “the most blessed moments”. It is the short version of another phrase they say, “أبرك الساعات اللي شفتك فيها”, which means “the most blessed hours are the ones in which I saw you”. It is one of those lines that becomes part of a couple’s identity, very natural, sentimental in an effortless way, and extremely personal. That is why Abdulaziz placed the short version on the dial. It belongs there. It carries their warmth.

Since the phrase needed to look as meaningful as it sounds, he asked Jassim Alnasrallah to write it. If you know Jassim’s style, you already understand why he is the right person. He writes calligraphy like he is building a structure. He chose Thuluth script, which has a formal and elegant tone, and he composed the words in an oval shape that guides your eyes naturally around the dial. Even the tiny details, like the dots and the little hamza and the miniature kaf (look these up), were arranged so that they line up symbolically with the main hours on the watch, meaning three, six, nine and twelve. It’s the type of detail no one notices unless someone points it out, but once you know it, you feel the intention behind it.

Then the whole thing went to Arnaud from L’Artisan Horloger, who now knows exactly what happens each time Abdulaziz brings him a new idea. The first thing he told me was that this was his first experience with something like this, and that it was eye opening, that Abdulaziz always pushes him to new places. 

They are actually developing four different stone dial variations for this calligraphy collection (hence my journalistic involvement), Lapis Lazuli, Meteorite, Tahitian mother of pearl with a blue tone, and white mother of pearl. 

The calligraphy itself is laser cut in a very thin stainless steel, brushed so it has texture, and it is extremely delicate. Arnaud told me it was the most fragile and meticulous part he has ever worked with, especially on the meteorite dial which has an uneven surface that makes everything more difficult.

Inside, they used the Miyota 9015, which beats at four hertz, has hacking seconds, and is accurate and reliable. It is a nice upgrade compared to the usual entry level movements people expect, and it fits the whole spirit of the watch, which is emotional on the outside and practical on the inside.

Before we finished our conversation, Abdulaziz told me to share one last message with my readers, and he insisted on it. The calligraphy watch is now available for order! 

Anyone who wants one can contact Arnaud directly, either on the website or through the brand’s Instagram. It is not a mass piece, it is simply the continuation of the creative relationship I have been lucky enough to witness up close.

And that is honestly what I enjoy most about writing these stories. The watches are beautiful, of course, but it is always the people and the emotions behind them that stay with me the longest.

Some watches arrive with the whole fanfare of a launch, press releases flying around, and a dozen Instagram reels ready to flood your feed. Others? They slip into your life through something far better: friendship. That’s how the Anders & Co AC2 Volcán in Bronze Jade landed on my wrist, before the rest of the world even saw it. The brand’s founder gave me an early look, and from that first moment, I knew this one was going to stick.

The Volcán isn’t loud or over-designed; it’s confident enough not to scream for attention. The bronze case immediately sets the stage. Warm, alive, destined to patinate over time (which is already happening as we speak). But the real show is the dial. Jade, not just “green.” Natural stone that feels rich, layered, and unpredictable. In some light, it’s deep forest; in others, a lighter glow, like it’s breathing under the sapphire. It makes you look twice, and then again, because no two moments on the wrist feel identical. That’s not marketing fluff, that’s the kind of subtle detail collectors dream about.

At 37mm across and just 5.65mm slim, the Volcán wears like it was designed to disappear under your cuff and reappear just when someone asks, “Wait, what are you wearing?” That thinness comes thanks to a Miyota quartz tucked inside. Some purists will sniff at quartz, but in this case, it’s the right call. The movement keeps the watch razor-slim, maintenance-free, and honest. This isn’t a piece pretending to be a tool watch, it’s a refined daily companion, happy to follow you from a coffee shop to a dinner without fuss.

Living with bronze is always a story in itself. Fresh out of the box, it shines warm and crisp. Weeks later, it starts to darken, soften, and carry your life on its surface. Pair that with jade, and the watch feels alive, evolving. It’s the kind of watch you don’t just wear, you grow into it. And that feels very Anders & Co.A family based on continuit, just like I said about the AC1.

Of course, watches like this can’t live in a vacuum; pricing always comes into play. The Bronze Jade Volcán is set at 6,700 SEK (roughly €600 or a bit over $600 depending on where you’re based). In today’s microbrand scene, that puts it in interesting company. Plenty of brands at that price point offer stainless-steel cases with sunburst dials and maybe a Miyota automatic. Few give you a natural stone dial, bronze case, and this level of finishing. Against other microbrand dress-leaning pieces, the Volcán feels different,more personal, more intentional.

And that’s exactly why this watch works. It doesn’t try to be everything to everyone. It just delivers texture, character, and wearability in a package that feels rare at this price point. For us at Time-Telling Magazine, the Volcán Bronze Jade is more than just another microbrand release. It’s a reminder of why we do this: because watches are personal, because friendships shape this hobby, and because sometimes the best pieces don’t just launch, they arrive as secrets shared between friends.

 Creating a memorable and iconic watch brand is not something you achieve in a whim. Such watch brands come to fruition thanks to one thing and one thing only: Being different. 

For those of you who have been following us at Time-Telling magazine, you guys know that each time I write about a new/up-and-coming brand, I make it personal.

Well, because it often is the case. Personal. 

My story with Beda’a was one of complete coincidence. I’ve been quietly following the brand from a distance as I do with each one of those whose names I write down in my “keep an eye on” list. 

Fast forward a couple of months to Geneva Watch Days 2025, the Beda’a Angles Meca Line is resealed to the public. A gem. A hit. A fantastic watch. And as a watch influencer/journalist does, I had to publicly show love to the company.

My initial contact with the brand was with the founder, Mr. Hader Alsuwaidi himself. 

I have, through my humble career in this field, met some of the most successful, interesting and influential leaders in the industry. Yet so few of them are as welcoming and genuine as my new friend Mr. Hader. 

We met in Dubai (where I currently reside and am building some life changing projects) a few days ago and let me tell you, this company has a bright future.

Again, I say this because I have seen how the industry’s leading names work and think, and I’ve been in the kind of rooms where you have to sign an NDA to step a foot inside. 

Beda’a should be— to the Qatari, Arab and overall horological community— a brand to keep and eye on and support with whatever means possible. 

Let’s talk watches now.

Beda’a Eclipse 1 is nominated for the « Challenge » category at the 2025 GPHG. AKA the watch world’s Oscars.

Huge is the word I’d use to describe this nomination. Talk about solidifying a young brand. The Eclipse, as described by the GPHG people is “Capturing the soul of the beautiful natural phenomenon”.

To the academy this watch “uses the concept of “less is more” to present a fresh take on time-telling, a watch that covers most of its dial to emphasize the necessary information to its wearer.”

I’ll let you guys discover the watch more here. But to flex on you, my dear readers, let’s just say that I tried the “Dubai Bling” version, as the watch’s designer Sohaib Maghnam put it.

Look at those Baguettes… 

But who is Sohaib Maghnam?

If you’re new to the Beda’a universe, you need to know this name. He’s not just a designer brought in to “add flavor.” Sohaib, a Palestinian watch designer, is one of those rare creative minds who can blend cultural identity with contemporary watchmaking language. 

That’s what he did with the Eclipse, and that’s exactly what he’s done with the new Angles Meca Line.

Speaking of the Meca Line. Let’s be honest: this is where things got serious for me. And here’s the truth: I haven’t taken it off since the day I got it. 

I’m currently living the busiest times of my professional life. Ever. And in such troubled times, one need a reliable and trusted companion.

I’ve worn my Angles Meca Line on casual coffee runs, in boardrooms, at life changing dinners that ended way too late, and especially during early morning writing sessions like this one. The Meca Line— hand wound (ETA 7001), 37mm x 34mm and 6mm in thickness, doesn’t feel like a piece I rotate into my collection; it feels like my watch. A signature. A partner-in-crime. 

And that’s the magic of Beda’a.

The brand is young, but it already knows what most established houses have forgotten: people don’t wear watches for precision anymore (your phone already won that race). They wear them because of feeling. Story. Identity. And in the case of the Meca Line, the feeling is addictive.

So, let me wrap this up where I began.

Great brands don’t just happen. They’re born from difference, from vision, from a refusal to follow the obvious path. Hader Alsuwaidi planted the seed. Sohaib Maghnam is shaping its design language. And Beda’a, as a whole, is proving that Arab watchmaking has a seat at the big table.

As for me, and for us at Time-Telling Magazine, we’re not just covering Beda’a, we’re growing with it. And if there’s one thing I know, it’s that this won’t be a fleeting feature. This is the beginning of a forever friendship between our magazine and the brand. Because when you find a watch you don’t want to take off, you also find a story you don’t want to stop telling.

Specs:

• CASE
  MATERIAL: 316L STAINLESS STEEL
  DIMENSIONS: 37 MM X 34 MM
  CRYSTAL: SAPPHIRE
  THICKNESS: 6MM
  LUG WIDTH: 19 MM
  WATER RESISTANCE: 3 ATM (30 METERS)
  MOVEMENT: ETA 7001
  FREQUENCY: 21,600 VPH (3HZ)
  JEWELS: 17
  POWER RESERVE: APPROX. 42 HOURS

• DIAL
  INDICATIONS: HOURS, MINUTES, SMALL SECONDS AT 6 O’CLOCK
  HANDS: DAUPHINE-STYLE
  STRAP: EPSOM LEATHER, STITCHED, PIN BUCKLE; 19MM WIDTH
  REF: BQAM0525-37
  
  And SWISS MADE ofc…

When I launched Time-Telling Magazine, my goal was simple: to tell stories. Not just the stories of watches, but also those of the people who imagine them, wear them, live them. Very quickly, the magazine established itself as a fresh voice in the watchmaking world, with a tone that is free, curious, young, and above all, sincere.

What also makes Time-Telling Magazine even more interesting is the fact that it’s the first African watch magazine. An independent platform born out of a deep passion for watches, but also out of a need to broaden the conversation beyond the traditional centers of luxury. Today, our readers come from over 50 countries, and the feedback is often the same: “Finally, we African watch enthusiasts are being represented.”

However, there was still a missing link between this project and my roots. I’m Moroccan. And that’s precisely why I’m very proud to announce today our partnership with L’Opinion newspaper and its digital magazine L’ODJ (L’Opinion des Jeunes).

This partnership is much more than just a content exchange. It’s a tangible way to bring the world of luxury watchmaking closer to a Moroccan and African readership: young, educated, curious, and eager to discover. Starting today, Time-Telling Magazine articles will be published both on timetellingmagazine.com and on lodj.ma. And this is only the beginning.

I had the pleasure of telling my story in an exclusive interview recorded with L’ODJ, which will be available soon. In it, we talk about watches, of course, but also about culture, editorial independence, and what it means to “take your time” in a world obsessed with speed.

One of the goals of this collaboration is also to open the pages of L’Opinion and L’ODJ to a world that is often unknown but incredibly exciting: that of luxury, and more specifically, fine watchmaking. A world of artisans, traditions, and fascinating details, far from the clichés.

To spark your curiosity, here are a few fun watch facts: Did you know there’s a Swiss watchmaker who creates timepieces inspired by Arabic calligraphy? Or that one of the rarest watches in the world was sold to a collector based in Casablanca? These are the kinds of stories we’re going to keep telling right here, at home.

This partnership is a way to discover the world of watches without even moving your wrist. And more importantly, it’s an invitation for every Moroccan and African reader to claim and dive deep into this fascinating universe. Because watchmaking, at its core, is about rhythm. And now is the right time for ours to resonate louder than ever.

Some watches are precise. Others are beautiful. But Venezianico watches well, they feel. They don’t just tell time; they whisper stories. They remember places. They connect people.

What began in Venice as a dream shared by two brothers, Alessandro and Alberto Morelli, has grown into something quietly revolutionary: a brand that places humanity at the center of horology. And in a world where most watchmakers speak through catalogues, Venezianico speaks through conversations—real ones.

From the first moment I came across their creations, it was clear this was something else. Their designs had heart, but also curiosity. I didn’t just see watches, I saw journeys. I didn’t just feel tempted, I felt invited. You don’t browse Venezianico the way you do other brands. You explore it, like a city. Like Venice.

The dial is often where a watch reveals its soul. And Venezianico dials? They are pure soul. I remember wearing their  Ultrablack for the first time. That texture of black absorbing 99.4% of light was a celestial void… It was like wearing a fragment of the universe. And then came the

Aventurine dial, a dial that seems alive, like a night sky glazed over with infinite depth. With each glance, it changes. It breathes. These dials don’t just impress you. They move you.

Their Special Editions are stories sculpted in steel. The Nereide GMT Emirates Edition, with its warm mother-of-pearl dial and elegant complexity, feels like a tribute to movement and modernity. And the Redentore Marco Polo 700th is not a watch. It’s an artifact—a sculpted homage to exploration, dialogue between worlds, and adventure.

These are not watches created to impress algorithms or chase trends. They are made for people who feel. And perhaps what’s most telling is that even those with extensive collections from Rolex to AP are now drawn to Venezianico. And not as a novelty, but as a must-have. Why? These watches transcend them and bring something fresh to a world that so often repeats itself.

And what truly cements that feeling is the relationship you build with the brand. I’ve never seen founders so present, humble, or engaged as the Morelli brothers. Alessandro and Alberto are not there as figureheads, but as voices. Whether replying personally to collectors in the Venezianico Facebook group or offering thoughtful recommendations at watch events across the globe or through WhatsApp, they treat every interaction as meaningful. It’s not a pure marketing strategy but a genuine closeness. You don’t feel like a customer, you feel like you belong.

Their innovation, too, flows from that human touch. They don’t innovate for headlines, but innovate because they listen. The bold shapes of the mighty  Arsenale remind us they’re not afraid to challenge tradition. They take risks. They dare (No Pun intended, Tudor).

But their finest expression yet is one that blends every element, craftsmanship, poetry, and soul into one object: the Redentore Utopia. A project born from years of dialogue, built entirely in Italy, powered by their first proprietary caliber, and finished with painstaking, artisanal care. From the hand-guilloché dial by Riccardo Renzetti to the leather strap crafted in Tuscany, every detail is slow, deliberate, and honest. There’s no flash. No excess. Just pure, essential beauty. A watch that feels less like an accessory and more like a philosophy. A Utopia not just named, but realized.

Because behind every detail, every stone dial, every limited edition… There are two brothers present, passionate and profoundly human. They’re not watching from afar. They’re walking with you. Listening. Creating. Evolving. Together with their community. And that’s why Venezianico is unlike anything else.

It’s not just a brand. It’s a family that opens its doors. It’s a story you don’t just admire. It’s one you join.

È arte. È familia. È Venezianico.

I’ve been around watches long enough to know when one’s just a fling and when it’s a full-blown horological crush. You know the type—where you’re checking your wrist more to admire the dial than to tell the time, and you start timing things just for the joy of pressing a pusher. That started the moment I unboxed the Anders & Co AC1.

Let me take it back to when and where it started. This isn’t one of those giant heritage maisons or obscure Swiss indies charging a kidney and a half for a manually wound minute repeater. No, Anders & Co is a fresh face from Sweden, founded in 2024 by Mr. Alexander Larsson. This wasn’t some VC-funded hype machine either. Mr. Larsson’s story has roots. He was the U.S. brand manager for David Candaux, one of the most respected names in high-end independent watchmaking. But when COVID pulled the rug out from under his job, Larsson packed up and moved back to Sweden with a mission: make well-designed, vintage-inspired watches that real people could afford.

He named the company after his grandfather, Anders. Class move for sure. Even the brand’s logo has a story since it’s inspired from Pucon, a Chilean town close to Larsson’s heart. 

The Anders & Co AC1 Chronograph.

As of today, the AC1 Chronograph is their debut piece. And frankly, they could’ve stopped there, mic-dropped, and left the room. It’s that good. Mine? The Rose dial configuration. That dial… oh, that dial. It’s not just “Rose”, it’s the kind of Salmon dials that you only see with Patek or other high watchmaking names. It changes tones in different light like it’s got moods. And the Breguet numerals? Come onnn… That’s a flex. They give the whole thing this old-world charm without getting mainstream-y.

Specs-wise, it’s hitting all the sweet spots: 38mm in diameter (finally, someone’s listening), just over 11mm thick, double-domed sapphire with anti-reflective coating (More on this in a bit), and a Seiko VK64 Mechaquartz beating inside. Yes, mechaquartz. I can already hear a few mechanical-only purists sneering, but this movement hits the perfect note: quartz accuracy with a satisfying mechanical chronograph snap. You push the button, and you feel it. It’s tactile.

Once you own a few mechanical chronographs, you’ll learn to appreciate the loyalty of a Mechaquartz piece.

Wearing it? Effortless.

I’ve got mechanical divers, Swiss chronos, and a couple dress watches that probably think they’re royalty. But since the AC1 arrived, they’ve all taken a back seat. The AC1 slides under a cuff, shines in the sun, and starts conversations with people who don’t even know what a tachymeter is. It’s a vibe.

The case is stainless steel, the finishing: Crisp. It’s not over-engineered or trying to be something it’s not. It just works. Every element—from the 20mm leather strap (thank you for keeping it standard, Anders & Co) to the 3 ATM water resistance—is well considered. It feels like it was designed by someone who wears watches, not someone trying to reinvent them.

It’s not just me who noticed that the brand clearly cares. They’re not mass-producing this thing to death. Limited runs, thoughtful details… 

What really got me, though, is the community they’re building. Anders & Co isn’t just selling watches—they’re building a club, a vibe, a little corner of the internet (and the world) where people care about design, details, and stories. I registered early, shared a bit of my collecting journey with them, and it felt like talking to fellow watch nuts—not customer service bots in disguise. I even had the chance to talk to the founder ! 

Speaking of building a club, Anders & Co is now involved in the world of sailing. A sport I personally adore (Can’t wait for them to invite me on a sailing trip haha). I’ll let Mr Alexander tell you about it:

Yes, absolutely, we’re based on the west coast of Sweden, where sailing is quite big. We’re in Marstrand, which hosts a stop on the World Match Racing Tour. I got to meet Chris Poole there last summer after he won the event. He’s really into watches, so the ambassadorship came about pretty naturally.

My grandfather Anders was also very into sailing, so this all feels kind of full circle. It was a bit of a spontaneous partnership, since most of our designs have leaned vintage, but it’s opened the door for us to start working on high water resistance watches in the future, which we’re really excited about.

Everything about Anders & Co feels personal. It’s a tribute. A family story. A passion project that actually delivers.

Aside from the amazing dial and the very useful chronograph complication (I like to time everything guys, I’m a freak), the double-domed sapphire with anti-reflective coating makes the watch what it is. I’m not being dramatic, let me explain. 

With this type of crystal, one is able to appreciate some of the finest details on the dial. For instance, the ripple effect on the subdials would not have been apparent if the glass wasn’t so smooth and anti-reflective. The curved edges magnify the tachymeter scale, which allows me to nerd out on every millisecond. 

A Traditional Chronograph Design Identity.

A thought I shared in my recent Instagram Reel has stuck with me. This watch scratches my itch for a Patek Philippe ref.1463 “Tasti Tondi”.

YOU SEE IT RIGHT !? The Breguet numerals on 12 and 6, the tachymeter scale, the double domed sapphire…

I’m not saying that the AC1 is inspired by this reference whatsoever. What I’m saying is: This 2024 chronograph respects traditional design elements that make it feel and look like a proper luxury watch. 

Mr Alexander is no newcomer, which explains how fine this watch is.

Would I call it my favorite watch? Currently, yes. Today, right now, the AC1 is the one. It’s on my wrist as I write this, and it’ll still be there when I step out later—whether I’m grabbing coffee or heading into a work meeting. It just works.

So yeah, consider this my love letter to the AC1 Chronograph. Not because it’s flashy. Not because it’s hyped. But because it’s the rare kind of watch that reminds you why you got into this hobby in the first place.

Let’s be real for a second. When I say equestrian sports and haute horlogerie, what’s the first thing that crosses your mind? If your answer was rich people, apart from YOU LITERALLY READING MY MIND, you’re not wrong at all; because it’s the exact public both of these worlds cater to.

However, aside from their elitist-leaning tendencies, the worlds of horses and watches share similar values like precision, tradition, ritual, and excellence. Which are the real reasons why their orbits so often converge.

Before we get into the luxury branding and watch tie-ins, let me briefly walk you through the different disciplines, arenas, and landmark events of the equine sphere.

There are five main disciplines you’ll come across on the international circuit. 

Show jumping is fast-paced and high-stakes, with riders navigating timed courses of fences and obstacles. It’s the most widely televised. 

Dressage, often called “horse ballet”, is all about technical precision and grace, performed in a rectangular arena with choreographed movements. 

Eventing combines dressage, cross-country, and show jumping into one three-phase competition that tests both control and endurance. 

Polo brings speed and aggression into the mix, with two teams on horseback swinging mallets at a small ball across a massive grass field. It’s long associated with aristocratic circles. 

And finally, horse racing is the most commercially visible, involving flat-out sprints on turf or dirt tracks, especially dominant in the UK, France, the US, and the Gulf.

Now that we’ve mapped out the main disciplines, let’s talk hallmark events: the grand slams, royal enclosures, and champagne-fueled weekends that put equestrian sports on the global calendar (and on your Instagram feed if you’re on the posher side). 

Think of these as the Met Gala, Cannes, and Fashion Week all rolled into one

Royal Ascot (UK)
Racing meets royalty meets runway. This is the British monarchy’s annual flex , where flat racing shares the spotlight with hat drama, social prestige, and unapologetically old-money aesthetics (think the Prince and Princess of Wales and the late Queen Elizabeth II as she had an acute interest in horses). Watches here? Present (often vintage) but it’s an “iykyk” situation.

Longines Global Champions Tour
An elite show jumping series hopping from Paris to Doha, Miami Beach to Monaco and Rabat too last year. It’s urban, it’s polished, and it’s dripping in luxury. Longines doesn’t just sponsor it—they co-curate the vibe. If there’s a “F1 of show jumping,” this is it.

Rolex Grand Slam of Show Jumping
Think tennis Grand Slam, but with horses clearing 1.60m fences at breakneck speed. This triple crown spans Aachen (Germany), Geneva( Switzerland),  and Spruce Meadows (Canada). Rolex uses it to fuse sport, spectacle, and precision—exactly what their timepieces promise.

FEI World Equestrian Games
Held every four years, this is basically the Olympics for horses. Eight disciplines. One city (different each edition, or scattered across multiple locations). Hundreds of athletes. Thousands of grooms, vets, owners, and fans. From vaulting to dressage, it’s a celebration of equestrian mastery on an international stage

Prix de Diane Longines (France)
Held in the dreamy town of Chantilly, this isn’t just a horse race—it’s a high-society garden party where elegance takes the reins. Longines is the official title sponsor, giving the event its full name: Prix de Diane Longines. Beyond sponsoring the race, the brand curates the day’s identity around grace, femininity, and heritage. One of the highlights? The annual “Mademoiselle Diane par Longines” award, a fashion prize given to the most elegantly dressed woman, turning the grandstand into a catwalk of haute millinery and timeless silhouettes. It’s not just about the finish line—it’s about style, storytelling, and serious soft power.

Dubai World Cup (UAE)
One of the richest races on Earth (we’re talking $12 million+ purses), and a clear flex of Gulf wealth and ambition. Held at the jaw-dropping Meydan Racecourse, this is where haute horlogerie meets hawks, horsepower, and hospitality suites the size of small kingdoms.

Now that we’ve set the tone, let’s zoom in on the role watches actually play in all this pageantry. You’ve probably clocked some familiar names already—Rolex, Longines—their presence not just visible but interwoven into the fabric of equestrian sport. And if you’ve been tuning into Walid’s podcast (obviously), reading polo should’ve triggered a reflex: the Reverso. Jaeger-LeCoultre’s Art Deco icon, originally engineered in the 1930s to withstand the brutal swings of polo matches in British India. So it tracks that the Reverso still carries real cultural weight in polo circles—even if JLC’s modern role in equestrian sport is more symbolic than strategic.

Let’s analyse further. Even in equestrian sport, Rolex remains king, with its name crowning the Rolex Grand Slam of Show Jumping—arguably the discipline’s most prestigious challenge. It’s a textbook case of legacy positioning, where the brand dominates by embedding itself in spaces where tradition holds weight. This strategy is built on alignment: anchoring Rolex to a world that values consistency, history, and quiet authority. In this context, visibility comes from proximity to prestige—and over time, that familiarity cultivates trust and deep-rooted appreciation.

Longines takes a similarly deliberate approach—just at its own frequency. Its long-standing investment in the Global Champions Tour and the Prix de Diane; as long as its partnership with the International Federation for Equestrian Sports (FEI) as its official timekeeper and watch brand has cemented its role as a fixture across both equestrian and elite cultural circuits. But beyond strategy, there’s something intrinsic at play: Longines, in its essence, aligns more naturally with the world of equestrian sports. Its design language—graceful, elegant, often understated—mirrors the aesthetics of the sport itself.

If Rolex is a muscular mustang, all power and presence, then Longines is a refined Akhal-Teke—sleek, precise, and built for poise. That’s why its presence here doesn’t feel opportunistic; it feels organic, almost inevitable. Longines may not dominate every conversation like Rolex, but it speaks fluently in the rooms that matter—and that’s exactly how you play and win the long game, or in this case, the market-Royal Ascot.

Now that we’ve broken down the major players, let’s name names. In this market, the holy trinity remains Rolex, Longines, and Jaeger-LeCoultre—each with its own rhythm and relationship to equestrian sport. 

The dynamics play out as such: Rolex and Longines move with legacy. While Jaeger-LeCoultre stays mostly symbolic, with the Reverso forever linked to polo.

Beyond the established trinity, other brands orbit this space in their own way. Cartier and Hublot, though stylistically opposite, are playing the same game—using polo sponsorships like the Queen’s Cup and the Polo Gold Cup Gstaad to position themselves in the luxury spotlight, not through deep sporting ties, but as calculated exercises in brand visibility and cultural alignment.

Then there’s Hermès—less a sponsor, more a native. With equestrian roots dating back to 1837, it doesn’t just host the Saut Hermès in Paris; it embeds those values into timepieces like the Arceau, designed in 1978 and inspired by stirrup shapes. As for them, equestrian style isn’t brand play—it’s DNA. 

These aren’t Big 3 contenders—they’re adjacent forces. Unlike Rolex, Longines, or Jaeger-LeCoultre, which build long-term legitimacy through deep integration with the sport’s governing bodies, timekeeping infrastructure, or heritage design, brands like Cartier, Hublot, and Hermès approach equestrian sport as a vitrine—a curated stage for image-building, selective visibility, and cultural storytelling. 

It’s hard not to see how equestrian sport doubles as both stage and strategy—where some brands are embedded in legacy positioning and literally “timing the sport,” while others treat it as narrative real estate. Both approaches are sharp. And honestly, as someone studying sports marketing, it hits different to recognize these moves in real time and decode the strategy behind them.

Turns out, the real link between horology and equestrian sports is how both sell—indirectly, aspirationally, and through the room itself. The watches aren’t on athletes; they’re on spectators. It’s not about sponsorship logos—it’s about signaling who belongs, who watches, and who wears what. A peer-coded ad dressed as tradition.

*We do not own the rights to any of these photos. please note that all images and copyrights belong to their original owners. no copyright infringement intended.*