I am fortunate to own some lovely mechanical Seikos, even one limited edition Grand Seiko. But not one can possibly compete with this diminutive (31.5 x 37.5 x 5.5) dress model that I purchased on a whim as I nervously awaited meeting a woman who would become my wife (and who sits next to me this evening) for a first week together. We were not children. Nearing our 50s, we had written to one another for six months before deciding this might be a good idea. And even more daring (though only an enthusiast would say this) was the decision—as I stared at the watches in the case—that it was time for a change: I'd stop sweating the small stuff; I'd go for a two-hander! Whoa…
Sometime around the turn of the millennium, after I'd worn the piece for a few years with a badly cracked windscreen, a local jeweler sent it to Chicago for a full rebuild. Since that time it has always run, faithfully, with admirable accuracy (though for a number of years, largely in a drawer), until my interest in fine timepieces blossomed, my first watch winder broke, providing a covered display stand, and the watch's principal function turned from wristwatch to small clock—there, in the morning sunlight, to remind me of how lucky I've been these some twenty-five years and counting.
Watches. Memories….
Regards, FH