Dr No's account of acquiring a rare Omega Seamaster ref. 2494 chronometer highlights the thrill of the hunt for vintage collectors. His story underscores the importance of community connections in navigating the complexities of international vintage watch acquisitions, especially when dealing with unique and historically significant pieces. This narrative offers valuable insights into the dedication and passion required to secure a truly special timepiece.
. . . is an unlucky number?
Several months ago, my vintage Omega collection numbered an even dozen chronomètres. Six 30T2rg variants, three Connies, a ref 2499 Jubilee, a second-generation SM cal 505, and the sole Genève chronometer reference.
Not a bad haul over the years. I was content.
"Who needs another?", said I to myself. "It's hard enough giving my harem the attention it deserves. Enough's enough!"
Then, I saw a listing on eBay for . . .
[seller's photo]
. . . this.
Reference 2494. Not common. An early Seamaster reference; Tony C has one, but not many others in this community. And, marked 2494-2; most 2494s are cross-referenced with 2657, the sub-seconds variant. This one was marked with just ref 2494, sans cross-reference. Another mark of distinction.
Cal 352 movement. In and of themselves, not terribly uncommon. But, fitted to a ref 2494? Highly uncommon. I can recall seeing two others. Most 2494s are not chronometers at all. The handful that are, like Tony C's, have cal 354 movements, which passed chronometer testing but lack the finish and regulation of the cal 352.
Look closely. No 'Seamaster' on the dial. Correct for the earliest production variants. And unique in my experience; I've never seen another without 'Seamaster' script.
36 mm case. Technically a jumbo. And screwed back. An uncommon configuration. Actually, highly uncommon.
Original Seamaster clover crown. Check!
Steel case with pink gold hands and markers. My heart is thumping!
Pink gold bezel.
I'm done.
I wanted this watch more than anything.
Then, I saw where it was located.
Argentina.
My heart sank.
Acquiring watches on eBay was nothing new, but overseas? So many horror stories . . . not worth the risk for costly acquisitions. The seller had negative feedback . . . no encouragement there.
I posted my interest in it on the Wrist Scan forum, expressing my desire but lamenting its location.
In steps Abel!
To make a long story short, Abel volunteered to acquire the watch for me. With his friend in Buenos Ares, he searched for the seller. There were twists and turns, ups and downs. After several weeks of investigating, finally locating and negotiating, we had come to a standoff. The seller was noncommittal.
Abel had expended so much time and effort on my behalf that I felt guilty for engaging his assistance. So I said, "Abel, let's call it quits. This guy is simply too difficult to deal with. It's not worth it."
Weeks later, a bolt from the blue. A representative of the seller walked into Abel's friend's office with the 2494 in hand. The Omega had come to us!
Abel sent a pm. "Art, the owner is willing to part with it for X $. What do you say?"
I thought about it for three seconds. That was two seconds too many.
"Let's do it!", said I. And so it finally changed hands. Abel posted pics and his story last month on this forum. It arrived Wednesday, and retrieved from the local Post Office Thursday. Unpacked at West Coast Bill's house Friday. And now, one of the rarest Omega chronometers I've come across is on my wrist this Easter weekend.
As thrilled as I am to have scored this once-in-a-lifetime target, I'm even more gratified to have been Abel's partner in its capture. He did all the work, for which I'm grateful beyond words.
Close-ups courtesy West Coast Bill (who happens to be a devoted collector of Ω automatic chronometers).
I'll take photos with a macro lens in the coming days and share them in this thread.
Mille grazie, Abel.
Enthralled,
Art
