To some degree, it is now a little, or maybe even very, absurd to write about what it is like to make a living as a watch writer, and specifically, what it is like to be a reviewer of wristwatches. Watch journalism and watch enthusiast writing, reporting, and criticism have become closer and closer over the last twenty or so years, to the point that they are virtually indistinguishable. You could say that the degree to which enthusiast writing about watches meets professional standards for writing and for photography is all over the place, but you could say the same thing about professional watch writing as well. This is partly due to the fact that many, maybe most, professional watch writers start out as enthusiasts who have turned a busman’s holiday, for better or worse, into a job, and that many enthusiasts are more than competent writers, and in other respects competent or even excellent content producers. The internet and social media have made pseudo-professionals of us all.
However, there are some respects in which writing about watches for a living differs from writing as an enthusiast. One, of course, is that enthusiasts spend their own money, while watch reviewers no more buy watches they review than car journalists put down a credit card for every Bentley (or Aztec, hahaha) that they review. This means that watch writers, unless they also collect, can ignore except in the abstract, the Unpleasant Matter Of The Bill as they do not feel its impact … armchair generals, that’s what we are.
Another is that full-time watch writers necessarily get exposed to a much wider range of watches than most collectors, although the increase in the extent to which The Brands directly court collectors and invite them to trade shows, has blurred this line as well. Finally, there is one very specific aspect of full-time watch writing which most enthusiasts and even enthusiast writers don’t encounter on a regular basis: the “blocked” wristwatch.
If you’re wondering where the watches we pros review come from, the answer is that mostly they are samples, which are known in the trade as “carnet.” The term is French and literally means, “notebook” but in this context, it means a special customs permit which allows goods to be temporarily imported with streamlined customs procedures, and which also allows the importer to avoid customs fees and import duties, which might be considerable if you’re a jeweler or watch brand. Carnet pieces may arrive at the brand’s press office or that of their PR firm quite promptly after the watch is announced – sometimes even prior to it even being released to the market – or on the other hand, they might never get there at all (the wait for carnet pieces from some brands can be absolutely glacial in pace and was one major reason for the delay between product launches and hands-on reviews at trade shows, Back In The Day).
A watch provided for review might be a wearable, working model but on the other hand, and this may come as a surprise, the watch may be a “blocked” model – that is, one which is not working. These can take on various forms – the movement may be present but non-functional, or it may not be present at all, especially if the watch has a solid caseback; very occasionally you get a watch which rather hilariously has a picture of the movement, printed out and stuck on the underside of a see-through caseback.
Unsurprisingly, watch reviewers find this practice irritating. First of all it is impossible to evaluate performance aspects of the watch, like pusher feel for chronographs, or basic precision for any watch. Secondly, and importantly in this era when social media algorithms favor video content, it makes it impractical (or at least embarassing) to create video content around the watch unless it’s a reel of a still photo, and if you’re reviewing a watch for which kinetics are part of the sell – anything from a Bulova Precisionist movement or a Spring Drive, to a watch with animations on the dial – you miss being able to share a basic aspect of the experience. (Reviewing repeaters without hearing them is prima facie absurd but it happens all the time). Thirdly, in watches from brands which are famous for case and movement finishing, the movement is often dirty as it’s not subject to the same QC as a watch made for sale (often, casebacks are only finger-tight) and since the watch gets passed around all the press for a given market like a bong at a dorm party, it often arrives looking rode hard and put away wet, creating a lot of extra work as you struggle to shoot around obvious dings and scratches, as well as ground-in dirt and dust. Hardly conducive to conveying the premium experience that luxury watches are meant to create, no?
On the brand side of things, the practice is justifiable and even understandable thanks to the undeniable fact that giving a watch, especially an expensive or complex one, to journalists who can unfortunately sometimes be careless or ham-handed in how they handle a watch, means taking the risk that a working watch will be damaged, scratched, dinged, or otherwise rendered inoperable. The feeling I think is that since a writer or photographer may very well damage a watch so that it no longer works, that you may as well give them one that never worked in the first place. In defense of the brands, I have seen some absolutely hair-raising mishandling of watches by alleged professionals, including one instance in which a journalist dropped a Jacob & Co. Astronomia Tourbillon at a trade show onto the ungentle carpet below, which whatever you may think of the design (I dig them but that’s another story) is no way to treat a triple axis tourbillon.
Clearly the most fun is to be had when a brand trusts you with something rare, precious and expensive; you feel part of the family and nothing warms the cockles of a watch writer’s heart like being entrusted with the safekeeping of something really special. Two high points for me were a long-term loan of a platinum Datograph from A. Lange & Söhne (a watch I still miss badly although it ended up going to a very good home) and a platinum Greubel Forsey GMT, which they lent me for the duration of a BaselWorld many years ago and which brought every meeting I was in to a screeching halt. Patek has never lent me a working repeater for review and I can hardly blame them, although I have been loaned working timepieces from other brands up to and including repeaters for review – still, that is very much the exception rather than the rule.
Practically speaking, the blocked watch is probably not going to go away any time soon. It’s a frustrating compromise but blocked watches do let you evaluate fit and finish in general terms, especially if the movement is present, and you get to see what impression a watch makes in person rather than having to rely on press kit photos, which are generally unreliable guides to evaluating some of the most crucial aspects of a watch. (Press kit photos are often inexplicably terrible as well – some of the most renowned luxury firms in the world send out pictures of their watches shot with about as much emotion as if they’d been shooting an ad campaign for rolls of toilet paper – or worse, launch a watch with computer renderings). It’s a lot like writing about a car you’ve seen at a car show but haven’t been able to drive – you can still get a lot out of seeing it in person and sitting in it, but of course, there’s nothing like the thrill of the open road. So it is with the blocked watch – you can get close to experience of reviewing one that actually works, but the gap between conjecture and real experience will never not be frustrating; a kind of horological coitus interruptus, you might say (or you might not).
Photo by Carlos Esteves on Unsplash
Here's a story of the opposite of the blocked watch given out for review. Maybe 20 years ago, I bought an AP with their handwinding Cal. 3090. I bought it because John Davis had done a full disassembly and accompanying review of the caliber on the Purists forum, and I was impressed by how much he liked the movement. Shortly afterwards I realized (based on case & caliber serial numbers) that I had purchased the actual watch featured in the review. It had been returned to AP, I assume checked out by their watchmakers, and then sold to me by an authorized dealer in NYC. I was a bit gobsmacked but I suppose this practice is common and it didn't at all detract from my happiness with the watch.
The idea of a sticker of a movement being good enough for a preview is quite hilarious to me. It has a infomercial pitchman's level of "trust me on this one" haha