Me in my element. Image © Rolex

Not going to lie, you probably know who I am. I’m the watch most people conjure up in their mind when they think of a Swiss or a luxury watch. I’ll have you know, however, that for most of my existence, I was not a luxury watch. I certainly was not conceived as one. Nor did I ever wish to become one.

You see, I was created circa 1953 to be the toughest, most accurate, most reliable sports watch ever made. But not just any sports watch -a watch for divers. Back then, amateur diving was quickly becoming the hot new sport of the day, and the brave souls that descended underwater needed a way to keep track of time reliably -you know, to make sure they made it back to the surface in one piece. And for that, I was perfect. I had an entirely waterproof case, a dial with tons of luminous paint so it could be read clearly in the darkness of the sea, and a bezel that rotated in one direction, allowing divers to easily keep track of how much time they had spent exploring. What I’m trying to say is...I was born a bona fide tool watch. An instrument for badasses.

Soon my prowess as a durable instrument became widely recognized, and for the next few decades I would not only find myself in watch boutiques in metropolitan cities all over the world, but also aboard Navy ships -for sailors to buy for the staggering price of...one month’s basic pay for the most junior officer. I could not have been happier. There I was adorning the wrist of the very kind of people that were meant to wear me, who respected me for my durability and did not pamper me in the slightest. In my mind, I was not a delicate, elegant, refined Swiss -I was a Navy SEAL.

Me back in the day, on the wrist of Harry Humphries and Fran Scollise, two US Navy SEAL operators.

Things have changed since those halcyon days. Today, you will not find junior Navy officers sporting me. Nor will you find me on an aircraft carrier’s shop next to Zippos. For reasons I don’t fully understand, I went from costing one month’s ensign pay to...one month’s captain pay. I suppose being promoted five ranks after 70 years of service is not entirely surprising. But as you are probably aware, even if a captain is happy to part with one month’s remuneration to own me, and leave his ship for shore to find me in a retailer...said retailer would laugh at him. You see, I am not exactly available. The demand for me has exploded to such a degree that a potential customer has to go through months of waiting or who knows what other ordeal to get me. And that saddens me. These days, my original target customer either can’t afford me, or has to wait for months before I can adorn his wrist. I am not a bespoke suit, nor an Italian supercar. Yet by all accounts, I have become a luxury item. My wearer went from being a Navy SEAL to a corporate lawyer. And I’m not worn around fighter jets or aboard a submarine -I’m worn in the office, under a Brooks Brothers cuff. Some even make the cardinal error of wearing me to a black tie event. That is unacceptable. I never was, never wanted to be, and never shall be, a dress watch. Oh, what the world has come to.

It’s not all bad news, I have to admit. What keeps me going is that I am still very much the watch I was designed to be -customer demographics notwithstanding. I am more rugged, more reliable, more accurate than ever. And my parents have resisted the urge to alter my design, which means I can still recognize myself in the mirror. Not only have I not aged, I look better than I ever did. And admittedly, whether I like it or not, I am an icon. I’m just not sure what kind of icon that is. If there is anything I want you to take away from this, it’s my identity: I am a sports watch. Wear me. Do not baby me. Do not polish me. Do not take me off when you shower. Wear me when you cliff jump from 30m in Greece in the summer, and when you dive to greet octopuses. And, please, for the love of badass watchmaking, never ever wear me under a French cuff.

Respectfully,

I, the Rolex Submariner