sPOTLigHT

wHEn you’rE a waTcHmakEr of your TimE

Sharmila Bertin & Mickael Gautier

Totally by chance, three years ago, I fell head-over-heels in love with a watch I’d spotted on someone’s wrist; I borrowed it and headed off on holiday with it the next day. And, to cut a long story short, that’s exactly how this column came into being; a column where I can express myself freely, with my own “voice”, to describe just how deeply I’m attached to a brand, a model, no matter if it’s new or was rolled out a few years back and, without ever having to go into technical details. In a nutshell, pure emotion. The watches we wear are like windows we open onto moments of our life, little pebbles strewn along the path of our existence, which we love coming fondly back to so we can slip them into our pocket. We personify them, we identify with them: there’s incredible alchemy between us. And, as you’re all aware, I adore conjuring up memories from childhood, teenage years and womanhood, to explain my relationship with a piece. Why does it delight me, when did I acquire it, what does it

evoke for me, what sort of mood was I in when I fell for it, how many weeks or months or even years did I have to wait before I got my hands on it. By glancing back through the rearview mirror, I realize that I’m the THE waTcHEs wE wEar arE watchmaker of my time, creator likE windows wE opEn of my own desires. I always have onTo momEnTs of our lifE. been, however, even before I joined this great family, our industry. As a teenager, I heard my father, my teachers, my schoolmates whinge about me because I always did as I pleased, then later on my workmates would do likewise. I didn’t comply with rules if they didn’t suit me or went

against my convictions, I didn’t follow the path that people wanted to lay out for me. And, it still holds true today. As I’m writing this prose, a little predicament comes to mind that occurred when I was working as market manager for a watch-jewellery brand whose plans were (far) too ambitious for the means it had at its disposal and, which, of course, disappeared off the scene two years ago. I’d been made to wear a little diamond-set, square-shaped quartz watch, basically everything that’s the exact opposite of my personality, me who loves large-sized mechanical models free from any type of fancy frills. I did my utmost to negotiate, come up with excuses, get angry: the person in question actually forced this horror onto my wrist, pinching my skin with the clasp as they did so. From that moment on, I swore to myself I would never ever wear anything I didn’t like. “I do whatever I want” my daughter would say when she was small; an expression my son would also use a few years later on. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, apparently.

In the treasure chest of my memories, there’s Baselworld, the can’t-miss show that no longer exists. When I was still an industry employee, I really enjoyed spending my lunch break, even though it was short, eyeing up all our rivals’ display cases that were centre staged next to the stand I was working on. Later, when I became a member of the specialized press, I at long last had the right to exchange with these brands and even benefit from exclusive product presentations.

Every year, one of my favourite appointments was never jotted down on the professional schedule I passed on to my associates because I always went sort of as a journalist but mainly as a customer: Oris. And, every year, it was a great pleasure for me to be face-to-face with the same man who co-runs the firm today. I loved the passion that unfolded when he talked to me about “his” watches and I systematically found at least two models on his presentation trays to add to my wishlist. I loved the style of these objects, their creation, the tales they told as well as the brand’s discreet yet independent profile. And, as a true nature-lover, I adored the fact that it had chosen a name inspired by a river.

It’s so romantic to be named after a watercourse. I felt that we shared the same free spirit, that we had everything it took to get on well together. I laugh silently because I find it really funny that I could feel so much in tune with a firm’s philosophy. A bit like non-identical twins. I’ve seen the efforts that Oris has been making to protect the fauna and flora by being as eco-friendly as possible, on a par with me bringing up my children to respect the Earth and keeping a watchful eye on what our family consumes, sorting waste, recycling, upcycling.

One day, I think it was in 2014, I fell madly in love with a dive watch and its irresistible vintage look. I decided to take the plunge and to offer it to my husband for his birthday. Then I treated myself to the reissue of a pilot watch, which was originally made in 1917 if I’m not mistaken. It was a limited edition and the very thought of not getting my hands on one of the pieces made me panic. It’s a watch I wear very often.

Time goes by, loyalty remains and feelings are asserted. Shamelessly. I met up with Oris at Watches and Wonders this year and, even before my appointment on the stand, imagined as a place for exchanging, open and welcoming, still scheduled with the same man I’ve been seeing for over a decade, I already knew which model I wanted to see, touch and, above all, buy: the ProPilot X. Because I’d already spotted this apricot-hued, pink face, as powerful as a multivitamin cocktail that infuses my wrist and my eyes with delight, and its light, wearerfriendly grey titanium body. I’m captivated by all the contrasts and paradoxes that exude from this mechanical watch, its gentle strength, its undeniable presence, its sparkling, unrestrained identity and its feel-good expression. Right here, right now, as it accompanies all the movements of my left arm, I can’t help but look at it and smile. Go your own way, as they say in Oris. Indeed. Forever and always.

oris and i sHarE THE samE frEE spiriT, THE samE pHilosopHy and THE samE bEnEvolEncE.