William Stafford wrote, “I’d just as soon be pushed by events to where I belong.” While I wouldn’t claim it is great or wise to have a single line from a single poem weigh too heavily on anyone’s life, those dozen words have exerted a monumental pull in my own existence. I’m not by nature much of a planner, and the line offered itself as a little sophisticated rejoinder I could tell myself when confronting my chaotic life, but I also think the wisdom the line offers is useful.
And you’re sitting there at your computer or on your phone going “Dude, I came here to see watches, not some diatribe about poetry or chaos or whatever,” but the line, oddly, has played out in my own life in watches more than anywhere else. If you’re familiar with Bring A Loupe as it has existed over the years, you’ve maybe noticed I include fewer dealer picks than was common in the past, and I am 100% blaming a line from an old poem for that. While I know there’s nothing inherently better or worse about buying watches through auctions or dealers, auctions are most interesting to me because of their inherent unpredictability.
Over a decade ago, a vintage Tudor Ranger popped up on eBay. It was cheap enough that I wouldn’t lose money selling it if I didn’t like it, so I bought it. I thought nothing at all of whether I loved the watch, had never had any deep desire for that particular model—it’s just what was there, that day. Most of the watches I’ve fallen hardest for—a ’69 Speedmaster on Craigslist, a Meylan chronograph with a Lemania 2310—traced similar paths. I didn’t know what I wanted other than something cool that I could afford.
The fun part of that, obviously, has been a great sense of kismet: I’m not sure I ever would have wanted a Tudor Ranger had I not lucked into one sans the stress and pressure of research and sourcing it. The less fun part of that is that most horologically inclined folks have thoughtful, considered ideas about the watches they actually want, which, with very few exceptions, is something I’ve never had. I’ve never really allowed myself to want a vintage Rolex Sub. I love them; they look fantastic, but the chances of stumbling onto one in the ways I generally stumble onto watches are awfully slim.
This week—as auction season hits (see write-ups here and here and here)—seemed a useful time to focus exclusively on watches offered by dealers, as a bit of a corrective to my own hardwired watch tendencies. Worth noting, too, is that dealers are not only the OG Frontline in terms of being pushed by events—they buy what comes up and is available, watches they believe they can find homes for—but they help the watch community immeasurably. Sure, there are stories of questionable moves and shady practices, but dealers take huge financial risks and are, to a one, huge watch dorks just like the rest of us.
Scorekeeping last week’s picks: the Breitling 765CP went for $6,500; the Patek 1593 passed; the Cornavin P810 sells on May 9th; and the AP ref. 6005 sold for CHF 7,000.
Strays
An Eberhard “Royal Matic”. Photo courtesy Adam’s.
I believe Willie Nelson’s version of “Always On My Mind” is one of the greatest songs ever recorded, and that no version of “Hallelujah” will surpass Jeff Buckley’s. While I don’t think either the Bulova 4420101 or the Nivada Grenchen F77 is better than the original Royal Oak, there’s something fascinating about companies trying to make their own cover versions of classic models, and this Eberhard Royal Matic wears its lineage equally obviously, plus it’s uncommon enough you’re unlikely to run into anyone rocking the same model. Also, from the early 1980s, if you’re seeking an adventure, this Concord Delirium is worth a look. Solid gold and 1.98mm thick, the Delirium positively screams late-70s/early-80s, and the adventure for the winning bidder will be finding a replacement battery, as Renata no longer makes the 333 (if you’d rather a Tiffany-signed Delirium, have at it). Finally, Goodwill has both a Channel Boy.Friend and a Cartier Panthere 1310.
A Full Set Patek 3970
Photo courtesy Matthew Bain.
This Patek 3970 from Matthew Bain is worth including for any number of reasons, not least of which is Bain’s own enthusiasm. He wrote about sourcing the watch here, and his final paragraph is worth quoting: “Discovering watches like this is what keeps the passion alive after all these years. Even after decades in the business, there are still moments when a watch stops you in your tracks and reminds you why we all started.”
Photo courtesy Matthew Bain.
Also, regarding the bit above about how much dealers help the greater community, check out this 2024 piece, in which Bain explains why the 3970 is such an important watch and why it was (then) undervalued. It’s hard, in short, to shake the impression that Bain values the beauty and significance of the Patek 3970 way more than he does its fungibility.
Photo courtesy Matthew Bain.
Not that it’s not fungible: the watch is 100% available for purchase at $350,000, and while it’s a staggering sum, I come away from Bain’s writing about the watch believing that, had I the funds, it wouldn’t be complete madness to put them to use in such a way. There’s the Lemania CH 27-70 Q movement, whose lineage spreads absolutely everywhere (moon included!), and there’s the 18k gold case with plenty of patina and the flawless dial and hands, but the watch comes with absolutely everything: box, papers (original and service), archive, and original pusher. It is, in short, an exhaustive example of an essential watch from one of the most important watch brands in history.
An 18k Gold Rolex Submariner ref. 1680 with a Purple Dial
Photo courtesy Tropical Watch.
Speaking of subs, here’s one that feels almost unfair to include. What propitious combination of air, moisture, and temperature conspired to turn this dial that color? I couldn’t begin to guess. Looking at this sub feels a bit like watching sports highlights, where you can literally watch something happen while simultaneously knowing it’s physically impossible (due to my age, Bo Jackson and Jordan highlights are the ones that usually leave me slackjawed).
Photo courtesy Tropical Watch.
Tropical Watch has this 18k gold sub available for $59,550, and it almost has too many amazing features to choose from. The seemingly unpolished case? The bezel that’s faded to blue? The one-in-a-million dial? Sure, it’s on a newer bracelet. Fine. But owner Jacek Kozubek is not wrong when he writes in the listing that what you’ll get by purchasing this watch is “[t]he knowledge that you will always have the coolest watch in any room you walk into.” It’s hard to imagine what the opening argument would be against that claim.
Photo courtesy Tropical Watch.
Omega 145.022-69 BA
Here, Baller, is the first watch I believed would be my exit watch. When I learned that Omega had made 1014 of these to celebrate the moon landing (if you believe in that sort of thing), the idea of a solid gold Speedmaster with a burgundy bezel just seemed too excellent a star to not hitch the wagon of my watch longing to. Because I figured I’d either a) never be able to afford such a thing or b) never be able to comfortably wear a watch costing more than my first three cars combined, the Omega 145.022-69BA has been my long-term benign fantasy.
Photo courtesy Menta Watches.
But the thing about a fantasy—at least in this case—is that it doesn’t really go away. My heart quickens each time I see one of these examples pop up, and this example from Menta Watches did the same this week.
This particular example has tons going for it, from the original gold dial to the original DON burgundy bezel to the solid-gold case that seems to be in great shape. Sure, the gold bracelet shows wear, but that’s forgivable. The thing that’s so cool about the watch is just that Omega did it (and, of course, years later, redid it). Imagine you run the company that makes the watches NASA supplies to the men who walk on the moon. What do you do to celebrate? You make a solid gold model. There’s something sweetly innocent about what the watch symbolizes, and you can decide for yourself if that sort of sweetness is worth $36,500 to you, though I’d note that this is the least expensive example of this model I can find.
Movado Polyplan Curvex ref. 44009
Photo courtesy The Discreet Peacock.
Most of us think of time circularly. We’re taught to tell time on circular clocks (enjoy flashbacks to elementary school and having to fill in the hands on blank clocks), and each day’s an identical 24 hours, repeating cyclically (just like weeks/months). Given that context, there’s something almost radically elegant about long, distended rectangular-shaped watches. This LIP Tank, for instance, or this Universal Genève—both available from The Vintage Watch Collection—are stunners, but, for my money, the Grand Poobah of long rectangular watches is the Movado Polyplan.
Photo courtesy The Discreet Peacock.
As Rich advised in 2024, we should all be paying more attention to vintage Movado, and the Polyplan is as good an example as any to support that claim. The movement for the Polyplan is truly wild, in that it is angled to fit within the large, curved case. There’s a flat middle section, with two angled sections at the end. The mechanical logic of the design was that it allowed for a larger balance, resulting in better, more accurate timekeeping. Given the state of contemporary watchmaking, that may not be compelling, but consider that the first Polyplan was released in 1912.
Photo courtesy The Discreet Peacock.
Photo courtesy The Discreet Peacock.
The example on offer from The Discreet Peacock is 22mm by 44mm, made of 14k yellow gold, and dates to 1917. The dial, with its Breguet numerals, looks excellent for being 109 years old. The watch is available for $25,000, which is a bit of a stretch: these are uncommon, certainly, but the same watch sold for much less than a decade ago. That said, it’s a great watch with legitimately impressive engineering, and who knows how long it’ll be till another hits the market.
Weston Cutter
2026-05-08 15:00:00