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The Brand Age
March 2026
In the early 1970s disaster struck the Swiss watch
industry. Now people call it the quartz crisis, but in
fact it was a compound of three separate disasters
that all happened at about the same time.
The first was competition from Japan. The Swiss had
been watching the Japanese in the rear view mirror all
through the 1960s, and they'd been improving at an
alarming rate. But even so the Swiss were surprised in
1968 when the Japanese swept all the top spots for
mechanical watches at the Geneva Observatory trials.
The Swiss knew what was coming. For years the Japanese
had been able to make cheaper watches. Now they could
make better ones too.
To make matters worse, Swiss watches were about to
become much more expensive. The Bretton Woods
agreement, which since 1945 had fixed the exchange
rates of most of the world's currencies, had set the
Swiss Franc at an artificially low rate of .228 USD.
When Bretton Woods collapsed in 1973, the Franc shot
upward. By 1978 it reached .625 USD, meaning Swiss
watches were now 2.7 times as expensive for Americans
to buy. [[3]1]
The combined effect of foreign competition and the
loss of their protective exchange rate would have
decimated the Swiss watch industry even if it hadn't
been for quartz movements. But quartz movements were
the final blow. Now the whole game they'd been trying
to win at became irrelevant. Something that had been
expensive — knowing the exact time — was now a
commodity.
Between the early 1970s and the early 1980s, unit
sales of Swiss watches fell by almost two thirds. Most
Swiss watchmakers became insolvent or close to it and
were sold. But not all of them. A handful survived as
independent companies. And the way they did it was by
transforming themselves from precision instrument
makers into luxury brands.
In the process the nature of the mechanical watch was
also transformed. The most expensive watches have
always cost a lot, but why they cost a lot and what
buyers got in return have changed completely. In 1960
expensive watches cost a lot because they cost a lot
to manufacture, and what the buyer got in return was
the most accurate timekeeping device, for its size,
that could be made. Now they cost a lot because brands
spend a lot on advertising and use tricks to limit
supply, and what the buyer gets in return is an
expensive status symbol.
That turns out to be a profitable business though. The
Swiss watch industry probably makes more now from
selling brand than they would have if they were still
selling engineering. And indeed, when you look at the
graph of Swiss watch sales by revenue, it tells a
different story than the graph of unit sales. Instead
of falling off a cliff, the revenue numbers merely
flatten out for a while, and then take off like a
rocket in the late 1980s as the surviving watchmakers
come to terms with their new destiny.
It took the watchmakers about 20 years to figure out
the new rules of the game. And it's interesting to
watch them do it, because the completeness of their
transformation makes it the perfect case study in one
of the most powerful forces of our era: brand.
Brand is what's left when the substantive differences
between products disappear. But making the substantive
differences between products disappear is what
technology naturally tends to do. So what happened to
the Swiss watch industry is not merely an interesting
outlier. It's very much a story of our times.
Jaeger-LeCoultre's web site says that one of their
current collections "takes its inspiration from the
classic designs of the golden age of watchmaking." In
saying this they're implicitly saying something that
present-day watchmakers all know but rarely come so
close to saying outright: whatever age we're in now,
it's not the golden age.
The golden age was from 1945 to 1970 — from the point
where the watch industry emerged from the chaos of war
with the Swiss on top till the triple cataclysm that
struck it starting in the late 60s. There were two
things watchmakers sought above all in the golden age:
thinness and accuracy. And indeed this was arguably
the essential tradeoff in watchmaking. A watch is
something you carry with you to tell you the time. So
there are two fundamental ways to improve it: to make
it easier to carry with you and to make it better at
telling the time.
Obviously accuracy is valuable, but in the golden age
thinness was if anything more valuable. Even in the
days of pocket watches the best watchmakers tried to
make their watches as thin as they could. Cheap, thick
pocket watches were derided as "turnips." But thinness
took on a new urgency when men's watches moved onto
their wrists during World War I. And since thinness
was more difficult to achieve than accuracy, it was
this quality that tended to distinguish the more
expensive watches of the golden age.
There is one other thing watchmakers have pursued in
some eras: telling more than the time in the usual
way. Telling you the phase of the moon, for example,
or telling the time with sound. In the industry the
term for these things is "complications." They were
popular in the nineteenth century and they're popular
again now, but except for one pragmatic complication
(showing the date), they were a sideshow in the golden
age. In the golden age, as always in golden ages, the
top watchmakers focused on the essential tradeoff.
And, as always in golden ages, they did it
beautifully. The best watches of the golden age have a
[4]quiet perfection that has never been equalled
since. And for reasons I'm about to explain, probably
never will be.
The three most prestigious brands of the golden age
were the so-called "holy trinity" of Patek Philippe,
Vacheron Constantin, and Audemars Piguet. Their
prestige was mostly deserved; they had earned it by
the exceptional quality of their work. By the 1960s
they stood on two legs, prestige and performance. And
what they learned in the next two decades was that
they had to put all their weight on the first leg,
because they could no longer win at either of the two
things watchmakers had historically striven to
achieve. Quartz movements were not only more accurate
than any mechanical movement, but thinner too.
The holy trinity at least had another leg to stand on.
Most of the other well-known Swiss watchmakers sold
only performance. None of those companies survived
intact.
Omega showed what not to do. Omega were the nerds of
Swiss watchmakers. They made wonderfully accurate
watches, but they would have been ambivalent, at best,
about the idea of being a luxury brand. When the
Japanese got as good as the Swiss at making accurate
movements, Omega responded in the Omega way: make even
more accurate movements. They introduced a new
movement in 1968 that ran at a 45% higher frequency.
In theory this should have made it more accurate, but
the new movement was so fragile that it destroyed
their reputation for reliability. They even tried to
make a better quartz movement, but there was nothing
down that road but a race to the bottom. By 1981 they
were insolvent and were taken over by their creditors.
Patek Philippe took the opposite approach. While Omega
was redesigning their movements, Patek was redesigning
their cases. Or more precisely, designing their cases,
because until then they hadn't.
This is probably the point to mention what a strange
beast the Swiss watch industry was in those days. It
was a kind of capitalism that's hard to imagine today,
and even then could only have been made to work in a
country like Switzerland — a network of small,
specialized companies locked into place by regulation.
The companies that we for convenience have been
calling watchmakers were merely the consumer-facing
edge of this network. The holy trinity didn't design
their own cases, or even their own movements most of
the time.
In 1968 (that year again) Patek Philippe launched a
new watch that shifted the center of gravity of case
design. This time they'd taken their own designs to
the casemakers and said "this is what you're going to
make for us." The result was a striking new model
called the [5]Golden Ellipse. Somewhat confusingly,
because it wasn't elliptical. The new case was more of
what UI designers would call a round rect: a rectangle
with rounded corners. And this new family of watches
was quite successful. But it was more than that: it
was the pattern for the future. [[6]2]
How could merely designing a distinctive case be so
important? Because it turned the entire watch into an
expression of brand.
The trouble with the best watches of the golden age,
from the point of view of someone who wanted to
impress people with the brand of watch he was wearing,
was that no one could tell what brand of watch you
were wearing. Until you got within a few inches of
them, the watches of all the top makers looked the
same. That's the thing about minimalism: there tends
to be just one answer. Plus the watches of the golden
age were small by present standards. Watchmakers had
spent centuries working to make them smaller, and by
1960 they'd gotten very good at it. So the only thing
distinguishing one top brand from another was the name
printed on the dial, and dials were so small that
these names were tiny. The manufacturers' names on the
holy trinity's golden age watches are between half and
three quarters of a millimeter high. So by taking over
the case, Patek expanded the size of the brand from 8
square millimeters to 800.
Why did they suddenly decide to make their brand
shout, after a century of whispering? Because they
knew they weren't going to beat the Japanese on
performance. From now on they'd have to depend more on
brand.
There's a cost to doing this, which we can see even in
this early example of case-as-brand. Golden Ellipses
are not bad looking. They must have looked even cooler
in the 1970s, when designers were turning everything
into round rects. But the Golden Ellipse was not an
evolutionary step forward in case design. Watches
didn't all become round rects. Watchmakers had already
discovered the optimal shape for the case of something
that describes a circle as it rotates.
They had also discovered the optimal shape for the
crown, the knob on the side of a watch that you turn
to wind it. But to emphasize the distinctive profile
of the Ellipse, Patek made the crown too small, with
the result that they're distractingly hard to wind. [
[7]3]
So even in this early example we see an important
point about the relationship between brand and design.
Branding isn't merely orthogonal to good design, but
opposed to it. Branding by definition has to be
distinctive. But good design, like math or science,
seeks the right answer, and right answers tend to
converge.
Branding is centrifugal; design is centripetal.
There is some wiggle room here of course. Design
doesn't have as sharply defined right answers as math,
especially design meant for a human audience. So it's
not necessarily bad design to do something distinctive
if you have honest motives. But you can't evade the
fundamental conflict between branding and design, any
more than you can evade gravity.
Indeed, the conflict between branding and design is so
fundamental that it extends far beyond things we call
design. We see it even in religion. If you want the
adherents of a religion to have customs that set them
apart from everyone else, you can't make them do
things that are convenient or reasonable, or other
people would do them too. If you want to set your
adherents apart, you have to make them do things that
are inconvenient and unreasonable.
It's the same if you want to set your designs apart.
If you choose good options, other people will choose
them too.
There are only two ways to combine branding and good
design. You can do it when the space of possibilities
is enormously large, as it is in painting for example.
Leonardo could paint as well as he possibly could and
yet also paint in a style that was distinctively his.
If there had been a million painters as good as
Bellini and Leonardo this would have been harder to
do, but since there were more like ten they didn't
bump up against one another much. [[8]4]
The other situation when branding and good design can
be combined is when the space of possibilities is
comparatively unexplored. If you're the first to
arrive in some new territory, you can both find the
right answer and claim it as uniquely yours. At least
at first; if you've really found the right answer,
everyone else's designs will inevitably converge on
yours, and your brand advantage will erode over time.
Since the space of watch design is neither unexplored
nor enormously large, branding can only be achieved at
the expense of good design. And in fact if you wanted
one sentence to describe the current age of
watchmaking, that one would do pretty well.
Patek Philippe didn't know for sure that making
visibly branded watches would work. It was not even
their only strategy, at the time. They were finding
their way. But it was the strategy that did work, at
least as measured by revenues.
For it to work the customers had to meet them halfway.
Patek knew that not all their customers were buying
their watches for the performance they delivered — for
their accuracy and thinness. They knew that at least
some customers were buying them because they were
expensive. But it was unclear how many, or how far
they could be pushed.
To encourage them, Patek did something that none of
the holy trinity had done much of before: brand
advertising. And what they talked about was how
expensive their watches were. A 1968 Patek ad
explained "why you are well advised to invest perhaps
half a month's income" in an Ellipse. "Like every
Patek Philippe," the ad continued, "this thin model is
entirely finished by hand. Since a Patek Philippe is
the costliest watch to make, production is severely
limited: only 43 watches are signed out each day for
delivery to prominent jewelers throughout the world."
[[9]5]
You can tell this is an early ad because they still
mention thinness. But there is no mention of accuracy.
Presumably Patek felt that battle was already lost.
The next move was made by Audemars Piguet, who in 1970
commissioned the renowned designer Gérald Genta to
design their own iconic watch, this one, daringly, in
steel. The result, launched in 1972, was the [10]Royal
Oak. And Audemars Piguet's ads (for they too now
started doing brand advertising) emphasized its high
cost even more dramatically. "Introducing steel at the
price of gold," one began. "You're looking at the
costliest stainless steel watch in the world — the
Audemars Piguet 'Royal Oak'. What makes it even more
precious than gold is the time that went into building
it, by a vanishing breed of master watchmakers." At
the bottom of the ad they turn the traditional formula
on its head and describe their watches as being
"priced from $35,000 and down."
The Royal Oak was also a step forward in surface area
devoted to brand. The Golden Ellipse had turned the
watch face into an expression of brand, but it used
ordinary straps and bracelets. In the Royal Oak, the
watch face was integrated with a metal bracelet that
continued its design all the way around the wrist.
When it said "You're looking at the costliest
stainless steel watch in the world," it said it with
every square millimeter of surface area.
Would customers buy this new approach? The initial
results were moderately encouraging. The holy
trinity's sales didn't take off, but they didn't go
down to zero either. There were at least some people
out there responding to the new message. Perhaps if
they kept at it the number would grow.
So they did. Encouraged by the success of the Royal
Oak, Patek Philippe commissioned Gérald Genta in 1974
to design a similar watch for them. The design of the
Royal Oak had been inspired by a ship's porthole, so
the design of this new watch would be inspired by... a
ship's porthole. It was called the [11]Nautilus, and
it launched at the Basel Watch Fair in 1976.
In the Nautilus we really see the incompatibility of
branding and design. It was huge. The most expensive
men's watches at the peak of the golden age were
typically 32 or 33 millimeters in diameter. The
Nautilus was 42 millimeters. And as well as being huge
it had gratuitous knobs on either side of the face,
like a pair of ears. But you could recognize one from
across the room.
Of all the watches Patek makes now, the Nautilus is
the most sought after. It's perfectly aligned with
what present-day buyers want — basically, the loudest
possible expression of brand. But in 1976 it was ahead
of its time. In 1976 it was still a little too much.
The watch that finally turned Patek's fortunes around
was another iconic design, the hobnail calatrava. The
hobnail calatravas were so called because they were
decorated with tiny pyramid-shaped spikes. That was
enough to make them look distinctive. But except for
the hobnails they were basically golden age dress
watches.
The hobnail calatrava was apparently the brainchild of
René Bittel, the head of Patek Philippe's ad agency.
It was not a new design. Many watchmakers had
decorated their cases with hobnails over the years,
and there had been a Patek model with them since 1968.
But in 1984 Bittel told Patek president Philippe
Stern, in effect: make this your standard design, and
I'll create an ad campaign to identify it in people's
heads with your brand. [[12]6]
It worked spectacularly well. The resulting watch, the
[13]3919, is known as the "banker's watch" because it
became so popular among investment bankers in New York
in the 80s and 90s. Up to this point Patek had been
hedging their bets, making quartz watches as well, and
arguing defensively in their ads that quartz watches
in fancy cases were almost as laborious to make as
mechanical ones. But the ibankers bought the full
mechanical story. They didn't even need self-winding
mechanical watches; the 3919 was hand-wound. So be it.
Patek stopped talking about quartz movements. And
their sales, which had been flat since the early 70s,
were by 1987 on a clear upward trajectory that has
continued to this day.
It's hard to say for sure whether the critical
ingredient was Bittel's skill at advertising or a
receptive audience, but as someone who knew these
investment bankers, I'd lean toward the audience.
These were the people for whom the term "yuppy" was
coined. Living expensively was one of the things they
were best known for. If anyone was going to adopt a
new way to display wealth, it would be them. Whereas
if Bittel had sent the same message ten years earlier,
there might have been no one to hear it.
Whatever the cause, something happened in the second
half of the 1980s, because that's when all the numbers
finally start going up again. Up till about 1985 it
was still not clear what would happen with mechanical
watches. By 1990 it was. By 1990 the custom of using
expensive, highly-branded, conspicuously mechanical
watches as status symbols was firmly established. [
[14]7]
Obsolete technologies don't usually get adopted as
ways to display wealth. Why did it happen with
mechanical watches? Because the wristwatch turns out
to be the perfect vehicle for it. Where better than
right on your wrist, where everyone can see it? And
more to the point, what better to do it with? You
could wear a diamond ring or a gold chain, but those
would have seemed socially dubious to investment
bankers. They might have been barbarians, but they
weren't mafia. Whereas nothing could be more legit
than a gold watch. The chairman of the company was
still wearing one his wife gave him 20 years ago,
before quartz watches were even a thing. If the
increasing pressure to display wealth was going to
emerge anywhere, this was the place. [[15]8]
For men, at least. Women never really went for the
idea of wearing mechanical watches. Most rich women
are happy wearing a Cartier tank with a quartz
movement. Why the difference? Partly for the same
reason that most buyers of steam engines are men. But
the main reason is that expensive mechanical watches
now serve as de facto jewelry for men, and women don't
need de facto jewelry because they can wear actual
jewelry.
It was critical, though, that mechanical watches were
accurate enough. A new 3919 would have been off by no
more than 5 seconds a day. That was nowhere near as
good as quartz. Even the cheapest mass market quartz
watches were accurate to half a second a day, and the
best ones were accurate to 3 seconds a year. But in
practice you didn't need that kind of accuracy. If
mechanical watches had only been accurate to a minute
a day they couldn't have made the leap from keeping
time to displaying wealth. It would have seemed too
manifestly unluxurious to have a watch that always had
the wrong time. But 5 seconds a day was close enough.
[[16]9]
This is an important point about the relationship
between brand and quality. Quality doesn't stop
mattering when a product switches to something people
buy for its brand. But the way it matters changes
shape. It becomes a threshold. It no longer has to be
so great that it sells the product; brand sells the
product; but it does have to be good enough to
maintain the brand's reputation. The brand must not
break character.
It was a lucky thing for the watchmakers that yuppies
arose just in time to save them. Or maybe not so
lucky. Because the evolution of the market that
yuppies represented has continued with a vengeance,
and watchmakers have perforce been dragged along with
it. If they don't make gigantic blingy watches for
buyers in Hong Kong and Dubai, someone else will. So
that is what they now find themselves doing. And what
began with a few comparatively subtle examples of the
conflict between branding and design is now an all out
[17]war on design.
The present era of mechanical watchmaking doesn't yet
have a name. But if we need one, it's obvious what it
should be: the brand age. The golden age ran from 1945
to 1970, followed by the quartz crisis from 1970 to
1985. Since 1985 we've been in the brand age.
This won't be the only brand age. Indeed, it's not
even the first; fine art has been in its own brand age
since the establishment of the Barr canon in the
1930s. And since we'll probably see more of this kind
of thing, it would be worth taking some time to look
at what a brand age is like.
How are things different now from the way they were in
the golden age? The best way to answer that might be
to imagine what someone from the golden age would
notice if we brought him here in a time machine.
The first thing he'd notice, if he walked through a
fancy shopping district, is that all the prominent
watchmakers of the golden age seem to be doing better
than ever. They're not only all still around, but most
now have their own boutiques instead of depending on
jewelers to sell their products as they used to back
in the day.
In fact this is an illusion. Only three watchmakers
survived the dark days of the 70s and 80s as
independent companies: Patek Philippe, Audemars
Piguet, and Rolex. All the rest are owned by six
holding companies, which reinflated them as it became
clear that mechanical watches would have a second life
as luxury accessories for men. Instead of separate
companies they're now more like the brands that got
rolled up into the big three American automakers:
they're ways for their parent companies to target
different segments of the market. So Longines, for
example, no longer competes with Omega, because the
company that owns them both has assigned it a lower
tier of the market. [[18]10]
There's a reason the Vacheron Constantin boutique
looks so much like the IWC and Jaeger-LeCoultre
boutiques, and for that matter the Montblanc and
Cartier boutiques. They're all owned by the same
company. It's similar with clothing brands,
incidentally. When you walk through a town's fanciest
shopping district, what seem to be the shops of lots
of different brands are actually owned by a handful of
conglomerates. That's one reason these districts seem
so sterile; like suburbs built by a single developer,
they have an unnatural lack of variety.
When our time traveler peered into the windows of
these shops, the first thing he'd notice was how large
all the watches were. This would surprise him, because
in the golden age, as indeed in all the preceding
centuries, big meant cheap. An expensive golden age
men's watch might have been 33 millimeters in diameter
and 8 millimeters thick. An expensive watch today will
be more like 42 millimeters in diameter and 10
millimeters thick — more than double the size. It
would astonish our visitor to look through the windows
of what were clearly very fancy shops and see what
seemed to be cheap watches. [[19]11]
We know how this happened. When watches switched from
telling time to telling brand, they grew in size to be
better at it. And not just in size, but in shape too.
That's another thing our time traveler would notice:
the surprising variety of strange case shapes and
awkward protrusions that have been produced as the
centrifugal tendency of branding played out. What,
he'd wonder, is going on with the huge guards on the
crowns of those Panerais? What do people do with these
watches that makes the crown need such protection? And
why would a crown guard have a message engraved on it
saying that it's a registered trademark? It's obvious
to us what's going on here, but imagine how confusing
it would be to someone from the golden age, when form
followed function. [[20]12]
As he puzzled over this strange assortment of bulky
watches, he'd notice a further pattern. He'd realize
that a surprisingly large number of them looked like a
specific brand of bulky watch he was already familiar
with.
I haven't talked about Rolex so far, because Rolex
didn't have to do much to adapt to the new era. They
already had one foot in the brand age during the
golden age. Early in their history they put a lot of
effort into making their watches better, but they
"stopped taking part in competitions in Geneva and
Neuchâtel at the end of the 1950s," and from about
1960 "largely abandoned research into mechanical
watchmaking." [[21]13] The reason was not that they'd
become lazy, but that they'd discovered they could
make sales grow faster by marketing their watches as
status symbols. So that became their focus during the
1960s, and by the time the quartz crisis hit ten years
later, their customers were self-selected to be people
who didn't care that much what was inside a watch, so
long as it was recognizably a Rolex.
And they were far ahead of other watchmakers in that
department. They already had in the 1940s what we saw
Patek Philippe and Audemars Piguet struggling to
create in the 1970s and 80s: a case that immediately
proclaimed the brand of the maker. The Rolex look
seems to have evolved organically, but once it did,
they realized how important it was. In fact they
pitched it as one of the features of their watches. A
1960s Rolex ad says "You can recognize its classic
shape, carved out of a block of solid gold, from the
other end of the conference table."
Indeed Rolex was ahead of its time in both dimensions:
their cases were not merely recognizable, but big too,
at least by golden age standards. That was not the
result of clever marketing, though. It was a byproduct
of the founder Hans Wilsdorf's obsession with building
waterproof watches.
As its name suggests, that was the raison d'etre of
the Rolex Oyster. Watches like the Oyster were
designed to be tough, like Jeeps. In the golden age
there were two poles of watch design. At one end were
tool watches, which were thick, tough, and usually
made of steel. At the other end were dress watches,
which were thin, elegant, and usually made of gold.
But Rolex blurred the line between them. When they
made thick, tough watches, they made them out of gold
as well as steel. The result was a sort of luxury
Jeep. And if that phrase didn't ring a bell in your
head, stop and think about it, because that is exactly
what everyone is driving now. That's what SUVs are,
luxury Jeeps. What happened to watches is the same
thing that happened to cars. And indeed if our time
traveler turned and saw a Porsche Cayenne pass by and
realized what it was — a huge, pseudo-offroad vehicle
meant to recall the Porsche 911 — he might have been
even more shocked than he was by the watches he'd been
looking at. [[22]14]
If the time traveller walked into a Patek Philippe
boutique and actually tried to buy a Nautilus, he'd
get the biggest shock of all. They wouldn't sell him
one. Because at Patek he'd encounter the most extreme
brand age phenomenon: artificial scarcity. You can't
just buy a Nautilus. You have to spend years proving
your loyalty first by buying your way through multiple
tiers of other models, and then spend years on a
waiting list. [[23]15]
Obviously this strategy sells more watches. But it
also supports retail prices by keeping watches off the
secondary market. A company using artificial scarcity
to drive sales can't allow too many of the scarce
models to leak into the secondary market, or they stop
being scarce. The ideal is the watch equivalent of
carbon sequestration: for the people who buy their
watches to keep them till they die.
To push the market toward this ideal, Patek squeezes
from both sides of the sale. They weed out flippers by
making the path to the scarce models so costly in both
time and money — so inconvenient and unreasonable —
that only a genuine fan would endure it. The lower
tier watches sell for below retail on the secondary
market, because Patek doesn't restrict their supply,
so a would-be flipper should have to spend years
making money-losing purchases before he could even get
something he could flip at a profit. Apparently some
people still manage to beat this system though, so
Patek's countermeasures don't end there. They keep a
vigilant eye on secondary sales to see who's selling
their watches. Auction listings usually include serial
numbers, so those are easy to trace, but if necessary
they'll rebuy their own watches on the secondary
market to get the serial number and trace the leak.
They buy hundreds a year. And when they catch someone
selling watches they don't want them to, they don't
just cut off that customer. If a retailer's customers
are responsible for too many such leaks, they'll cut
off the whole retailer. Which naturally makes
retailers eager to help them police buyers.
There will of course always be some leaks into the
secondary market. Even the most loyal customers die at
a certain rate. And in fact it's critical for Patek
that the secondary market continue to exist, because
it's one of the most valuable sources of information
they have about the most important question they face:
how fast to increase the supply of the top tier
watches. Their scarcity helps drive the purchases of
all the others, so those that do make it into the
secondary market should always sell for above retail.
And I'm sure Patek leaves a large margin for error
when increasing supply, because if secondary market
prices for these watches get close to retail prices,
you're getting close to a price collapse — which,
since people now buy these watches as investments,
would have the same disastrous cascading effect as the
bursting of an asset bubble. It wouldn't just be like
the bursting of an asset bubble. It would be the
bursting of an asset bubble. That's the business an
elite watchmaker is in now: carefully managing a
sustained asset bubble. [[24]16]
This is an instance of what I call the comb-over
effect: when a series of individually small changes
takes you from something that's a little bit off to
something that's freakishly wrong. I'm sure Patek
didn't cook up this whole scheme in one shot; I'm sure
it evolved gradually. But look at what a strange place
we've ended up in. Back in the golden age the way you
bought a Patek Philippe was to go to a jeweler and
give them money. Now Patek is policing buyers to
maintain an asset bubble.
The most striking thing to me about the brand age is
the sheer strangeness of it. The zombie watch brands
that appear to be independent and even have their own
retail stores, and yet are all owned by a few holding
companies. The giant, awkwardly shaped watches that
reverse 500 years of progress in making them smaller.
The business model that requires a company to rebuy
their own watches on the secondary market to catch
rogue customers. The very concept of rogue customers.
It's all so strange. And the reason it's strange is
that there's no function for form to follow.
Up to the end of the golden age, mechanical watches
were necessary. You needed them to know the time. And
that constraint gave both the watches and the
watchmaking industry a meaningful shape. There were
certainly some strange-looking watches made during the
golden age. They weren't all beautifully minimal. But
when golden age watchmakers made a strange-looking
watch, they knew they were doing it. In fact they give
the impression of having done it as a deliberate
exercise, to avoid getting into a rut.
That's not why brand age watches look strange. Brand
age watches look strange because they have no
practical function. Their function is to express
brand, and while that is certainly a constraint, it's
not the clean kind of constraint that generates good
things. The constraints imposed by brand ultimately
depend on some of the worst features of human
psychology. So when you have a world defined only by
brand, it's going to be a weird, bad world.
Well that was dark. Is there some edifying lesson we
can salvage from the wreckage?
One obvious lesson is to stay away from brand. Indeed
it's probably a good idea not just to avoid buying
brand, but to avoid selling it too. Sure, you might be
able to make money this way — though I bet it's harder
than it looks — but pushing people's brand buttons is
just not a good problem to work on, and it's hard to
do good work without a good problem.
The more subtle lesson is that fields have natural
rhythms that are beyond the power of individuals to
resist. Fields have golden ages and not so golden
ages, and you're much more likely to do good work in a
field that's on the way up.
Of course they don't call them golden ages as they're
happening. "Golden age" is a term people use later,
after they're over. That doesn't mean that golden ages
aren't real, but rather that their participants take
them for granted at the time. They don't know how good
they have it. But while it's usually a mistake to take
one's good fortune for granted, it's not in this case.
What a golden age feels like, at the time, is just
that smart people are working hard on interesting
problems and getting results. It would be overfitting
to optimize for more than that.
In fact there's a single principle that will both save
you from working on things like brand, and also
automatically find golden ages for you. Follow the
problems.
The way to find golden ages is not to go looking for
them. The way to find them — the way almost all their
participants have found them historically — is by
following interesting problems. If you're smart and
ambitious and honest with yourself, there's no better
guide than your taste in problems. Go where
interesting problems are, and you'll probably find
that other smart and ambitious people have turned up
there too. And later they'll look back on what you did
together and call it a golden age.
Notes
[1] The Bretton Woods agreement didn't fix exchange
rates between currencies directly. It fixed each
relative to gold. Obviously this also fixed them
relative to one another.
[2] The Golden Ellipse isn't quite a round rect,
because the sides aren't quite flat. It's similar in
shape to the superellipses popularized by Piet Hein in
the early 1960s, and in fact that may be where they
got the name. But mathematically it's not an actual
superellipse. My guess is that Patek's designer just
experimented with French curves till he got something
he liked. And to be fair it is a good shape.
[3] It was ironic that Patek Philippe of all companies
made this mistake, because Adrien Philippe was the
inventor of the modern crown. But they must have
realized what they'd done, because later Ellipses have
if anything excessively prominent crowns.
[4] The high ratio of design space to practitioners in
fine art has combined with the practical importance of
attribution to give people the impression that
painting in a distinctively Leonardesque way is what
makes Leonardo good. The most dangerous problem faced
by curators, art historians, and art dealers — the one
that has the worst consequences if they get the wrong
answer — is attribution. So inevitably they spend a
lot of time thinking and talking about the features
that distinguish the work of one artist from another.
But those aren't what make artists good. What makes
the line of a woman's cheek in a Leonardo drawing good
is how good it looks as the line of a cheek, not how
little it looks like lines made by other artists.
Because painting has such prestige, the myth that
having a distinctive style (rather than painting well)
is the defining quality of great artists has in turn
given cover to a lot of bad design in adjacent fields.
A brand that does something hideous to distinguish
their products can say "Like all great works of art,
ours have a distinctive style," and people will buy
it.
[5] An ad that Patek Philippe ran in America in 1970
famously described a Patek 3548 with a gold bracelet
as a "$1700 trust fund." Was it actually a good
investment? In the very best case a dealer might pay
you $20k now for one in unworn condition with its
original box and papers. That's about a 4.5% rate of
return, which is not absolutely terrible. But
apparently the average rate of return on S&P 500
stocks over this period was more like 10%, if you
reinvested all the dividends after paying taxes on
them. The average rate of return would have been over
9% if you merely bought a lump of gold that hadn't
been made into a watch. So, not surprisingly, the ad
wasn't very good investment advice.
[6] Tania Edwards, who ran US marketing for Patek
Philippe in the 90s, said that Bittel literally
sketched the design of the 3919 on a piece of paper.
This sounds odd to me, because the 3919 looked exactly
like the existing 3520 with the addition of sub
seconds (a small dial with a second hand above 6
o'clock). Why would you sketch a design almost
identical to an existing watch when you could just
point to the existing watch and say "that, with sub
seconds." What this story does show, though, is the
degree to which people within Patek felt their ad
agency was responsible for the design of the 3919.
[7] If I had to date the turning point for mechanical
watches precisely, I'd say 1986. Unit sales of Swiss
watches rebounded in 1985, but revenue didn't, which
means what we're seeing is the boom in cheap quartz
Swatches. Indeed, sales of mechanical watches must
have been down if revenue was flat despite the sale of
all those Swatches. Whereas in 1986 revenue turns
sharply upward even though unit sales only increase by
a little, which implies a corresponding increase in
sales of expensive mechanical watches.
[8] There is of course another reason some people are
into mechanical watches: because they're interested in
old technology. And if you are genuinely interested in
mechanical watches, there's good news. You don't have
to wear a billboard on your wrist or pay a lot to own
one. Just buy golden age watches. They still keep good
time, they're much more beautiful, and they cost a
fraction of what new watches cost.
The key to buying a golden age watch is to find a good
dealer, and the best way to recognize one is by how
much they tell you about the watch. A bad dealer will
just have a lot of fluff about the prestige of the
brand and the sleek lines of the case. A good dealer
will tell you the model number of the watch and
movement, have lots of pictures, including some with
the case back open, give you dimensions, disclose all
damage and restoration, and tell you exactly how
accurately the watch is running. Good dealers tend to
be watch nerds themselves, so they're into this kind
of thing.
(There are a few independent watchmakers trying
earnestly to make good mechanical watches now, but
their efforts show how hard it is to do good work when
the current is against you.)
[9] Oddly enough it might have helped that the 3919
was hand wound. If a watch runs for long enough, 5
seconds a day starts to add up. After three months a
watch that gains 5 seconds a day will be 7 minutes
fast. But with a hand wound watch you occasionally
forget to wind it, and it runs down. And when you wind
it again you reset it — on average to a time about 30
seconds behind the actual time. So if you forgot to
wind a 3919 every two weeks or so, it would rarely
have shown the wrong time.
[10] There's one brand still waiting to be reinflated:
Universal Genève, which was one of the big players of
the golden age but since 1977 has been little more
than a brand name passed from acquirer to acquirer.
They're scheduled to come back to life later this
year, no doubt with stories about their long tradition
of watchmaking.
[11] More precisely, a high ratio of size to accuracy
meant cheap. It's easier to make a larger movement
keep good time, but between two watches of the same
accuracy, the larger was usually the cheaper.
[12] Their form did once follow function. They were
originally diving watches. But they're long since
obsolete for this purpose. Present day diving watches
(now called dive computers) are digital and tell you
much more than the time.
[13] Rolex was awarded an average of 16.6 patents per
year in the 1950s, but only 1.7 per year in the 1960s.
Pierre-Yves Donzé, The Making of a Status Symbol: A
Business History of Rolex, Manchester University
Press, 2025.
[14] Rolexes also shared something more specific with
SUVs: aspirational manliness. An internal 1967 report
by Rolex's ad agency J. Walter Thompson explained the
idea they were trying to convey: "Because a Rolex is
designed for any situation, however rough or dangerous
or heroic or exalted, it implies that the man who
wears it is, potentially, a hero."
Reprinted in Donzé, op cit.
[15] This business model only works when purchase
decisions are driven mainly by brand. In a normal
market, if one manufacturer restricts production,
customers just buy from whichever competing
manufacturer offers something as good. It's only when
customers are seeking a certain brand rather than a
certain level of performance that you can manipulate
them by restricting its availability.
[16] Of course the first question one has on noticing
a bubble is: will it burst? The reason ordinary
bubbles eventually burst is that speculators get
overoptimistic, but in this case the CEO of Patek
Philippe controls the "money supply" and can thus take
measures to cool down an overheated market. So there
are probably only two things that could cause their
specific bubble to burst: if his successor is not as
capable, or if the whole custom of wearing mechanical
watches goes away. The latter seems the greater
danger. People aren't going to wear three things on
their wrists, so all it would take is for there to be
two popular devices that were worn on the wrist, and
mechanical watches would start to be seen by the next
cohort of young rich people as an old guy thing. It's
hard to imagine a luxury watch brand surviving that.
Thanks to Sam Altman, Bill Clerico, Daniel Gackle,
Luis Garcia, the people at Goldammer, Jessica
Livingston, Ben Miller, Robert Morris, John Reardon,
D'Arcy Rice, Alex Tabarrok, and Garry Tan for reading
drafts of this.
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References:
[2] https://paulgraham.com/index.html
[3] https://paulgraham.com/brandage.html#f1n
[4] https://goldammer.me/products/vacheron-constantin-18k-white-gold
[5] https://collectability.com/learn/the-history-of-the-golden-ellipse/
[6] https://paulgraham.com/brandage.html#f2n
[7] https://paulgraham.com/brandage.html#f3n
[8] https://paulgraham.com/brandage.html#f4n
[9] https://paulgraham.com/brandage.html#f5n
[10] https://www.sothebys.com/en/buy/auction/2025/fine-watches-5/reference-5402st-jumbo-royal-oak-a-series-a
[11] https://www.sothebys.com/en/buy/auction/2025/important-watches-2/reference-3700-11-nautilus-jumbo-a-stainless-steel
[12] https://paulgraham.com/brandage.html#f6n
[13] https://www.sothebys.com/en/buy/auction/2019/watches-online-6/patek-philippe-ref-3919j-a-yellow-gold-wristwatch/
[14] https://paulgraham.com/brandage.html#f7n
[15] https://paulgraham.com/brandage.html#f8n
[16] https://paulgraham.com/brandage.html#f9n
[17] https://www.patek.com/en/collection/grand-complications/6300-400g-001
[18] https://paulgraham.com/brandage.html#f10n
[19] https://paulgraham.com/brandage.html#f11n
[20] https://paulgraham.com/brandage.html#f12n
[21] https://paulgraham.com/brandage.html#f13n
[22] https://paulgraham.com/brandage.html#f14n
[23] https://paulgraham.com/brandage.html#f15n
[24] https://paulgraham.com/brandage.html#f16n