A Seamaster fan here, though as I am not a member of the desired target market, it is probably wasted on me.
I have never submerged into brine below 2 metres, I neither loiter on gin palaces in white linen and Tods loafers nor do I dream of being repeatedly asked the time by impressionable blondes. Never mind. As I didn't want a cheesy James Bond branded one or 5kg of stainless steel weighing me down I was pleased to discover a rarer titanium variant. Were it not for this I could just as easily have gone for any other brand. The metal (or what's left of it following altercations with assorted almost-as-rugged solids) has an interesting hue, silver with just a whisper of gold, what I believe marketing ponces would call champagne, as well as being strong and very light. Apparently it's self-healing too, but the scars picked up over ten years say that claim is a white lie, told by the sales lass who, if I am honest, sported sufficient allure to sell me a box of mechanical trading systems in a blink of doe eyes, had she wished.
Sure, the cost is not justified in practical terms. I surprised myself when I bought this as I am not known for financial frivolity and thought I might have caught status anxiety or the more virulent Flashwan Kerrs disease.
But a glance at one with the back off, ticking away with cogs of intricate precision, friction points bejewelled, escapement (?) honed with years of incremental improvement, an understated miracle of engineering in miniature - wot even winds itself! - soon put paid to my concerns. Mechanical watches are wonderful feats of ingenuity. It is satisfying, if mildly alarming, to know I am unlikely to need or wish to buy another watch in my lifetime.
I like Matt's point about moving from cash to slow depreciating (even occasionally appreciating) assets that give daily pleasure. In the same vein I am collecting Eames chairs, a fungible repository for my bottom. They're a lot more fun than the ink on a bank statement and will be cherished for years.
I also like the William Morris attitude of owning only things which are either useful (as long as regularly used) or beautiful and the watch to my eyes fulfils both. A sterile digital would not.
Also, buy cheap, buy twice, as Yorkshiremen are fond of saying.
The really embarassing thing is the wife has now bought a tiny matching ladies' one. She'd always wanted one before we met ... it's not as if we wear the same colour fleeces and sport matching monogrammed dressing gowns as well. It is a quartz model so I remind her often of its inferiority, though she rightly counters with at least it tells the time properly.
I don't really see the appeal of fakes, unless you want others to think you are a man of considerable truck without suffering the outlay. Or you like the look of it, of course. If someone asks if it is real I am apt to lamely reply that if it is imaginary then I must have a gift for telling the time.
If one is to have a weakness for luxury, or a nostalgia for objects with real moving parts not a chip & screen, or a yen to never replace a battery, mechanical watches aren't a bad place to exploit it. I still can't bring myself to call it a 'piece' though. But give me time, it will happen, if 3 minutes too early.
