This US-market Longines sits right on an interesting fault line in automatic watch movement history. On the wrist it reads like a classic early-1950s dress watch—gold-fill, sharp lugs, and an interesting 2-tone dial with roman numeral indices. However, the real reason I’m attached to it is the movement. The Longines 19AS is one of those interesting, transitional full-rotor automatics that still feels distinctly like it was “engineered,” with a unique winding system that doesn’t simply follow the later, cookie-cutter ETA-style playbook. It’s from a period when Longines was at the top of its engineering game and actively iterating on how best to translate rotor motion into consistent winding—right as the industry was leaving bumpers behind and converging on modern layouts. The resulting design, while not as efficient as later systems, was clearly built to be a lifelong companion, not a disposable fashion piece.

I added this Universal Genève to my collection because it checks the boxes I’m always hunting for: a great looking vintage watch that’s genuinely elegant and mechanically significant. The dial is what hooks me—clean, balanced, and just a little sharper than the average 1950s dress watch thanks to those applied arrowhead markers with integrated lume, as opposed to the more typical “lume dots as an afterthought” setup.

The movement is the real reason it stays in my collection. Universal’s cal. 138SS is one of the brand’s important early automatics—a classic bumper design introduced around 1948, right at the moment when automatic winding was still evolving fast. This is a watch from the “in-between” years—when automatics still had personality you can feel every time the bumper twitches on the wrist.

I had been looking to add a Constellation to my collection for some time before I finally scored this example in an auction. The pie pan dial is gorgeous, and the proportions are exactly what I love in a mid-century Omega: a clean 34mm case that wears bigger thanks to those crisp, faceted “dog-leg” lugs, and a dial that’s quietly dramatic once you notice what you’re looking at. The pie-pan facets catch the light in a way photos never fully capture, and the little applied star above six feels like Omega couldn’t resist a victory lap. 

I had been looking for the right vintage Cortébert to add to my collection for a while, and I was thrilled to find this early bumper automatic example. The black and charcoal dial with, crisp minute track, and restored stainless steel hands give it real presence, and the whole thing pops even more against the bright, polished stainless case. It’s one of those watches that looks like it was built to be read instantly, in bad light, in the real world—not just to be admired in a box.

I originally planned to list this Wittnauer for sale, but it completely won me over once I had it in hand, so I’m keeping it (sorry, everyone). It’s the kind of watch that looks almost too simple—until you realize how hard it is to get “simple” this right. The big, clean dial and thin bezel give it a surprisingly modern presence for a vintage dress watch, and the applied markers add just enough texture to keep the whole thing from feeling sterile.

This sleek silver Zodiac is powered by a 25 jewel variation of Zodiac’s 1960s workhorse 70-72 movement. It has a somewhat unusual (for the time period) monoblock case (solid back) case, with a split stem to allow insertion and removal of the movement through the front of the case.

The Zodiac Sea Wolf was one of the first vintage watches that really spoke to me. I had seen other examples and decided I really wanted one of my own, and fortunately I was able to find this one in reasonable condition for a restoration - actually one of the first restorations I undertook after cutting my teeth as a watchmaker. The Sea Wolf comes with a stainless steel case, but the bezel is plated, and unfortunately it was in pretty rough shape when I aquired it. I ended up re-plating it in rhodium, which is attractive but also gives the watch a slightly different, more formal look than when it was new. The markings on the bezel were also restored (imperfectly) with the help of some epoxy paint. It is powered by the famous Zodiac 70-72 automatic movement, which is based on a manual wind A. Schild design.

Triple calendar with moon phase is one of my favorite complications, and I didn’t have to think very hard about purchasing this Zodiac when it showed up as a “For Repair” listing. It badly needed a service, and the case had some cosmetic issues that were mostly addressed by over-plating with 14K gold plate. That plus a new crystal, and the end result is really something special. The movement is essentially a reliable and accurate Zodiac 70-72 automatic with the extra calendar bits added to the dial side. Four small pushers make it relatively easy to set the various calendar functions.

I have tremendous respect for Zenith as a watchmaker, and good restoration candidates don’t pop up on eBay that often, so I was pleased to find this one. The movement in this thing did not disappoint - it’s beautifully made. This is definitely a cut above the usual watches they used to hand out on service anniversaries. W.H. Rogers must have done a really good job.

Leave it to Universal Genève to make a microrotor movement that, somewhat in contrast to the Buren microrotor in my Hamilton 688, is genuinely well designed and engineered (and pretty to look at, with Geneva striping across the entire movement). It still has the usual microrotor efficiency issues, but the hand winding mechanism is so solid that it hardly matters. It’s too bad the dial on this watch was subjected to an overly aggressive attempt at cleaning and tritium dot removal, but it still looks good in person - better than the photos.

I tend to be pretty picky about dial condition when I’m shopping for parts and repair watches to restore. This one has a bit more patina than I’m used to, but I wasn’t about to pass up a good deal on a Universal bumper auto, and I have to admit that the somewhat weathered dial looks pretty good sitting in a polished case under a new crystal. The movement, as expected of Universal Genève, is really well made and was a breeze to service.

You can see the distinct aesthetic of modern Tissot watches start to take shape already in this Seastar from the early 1960s, although the contrasting gold hands/indices and steel case is definitely a classic look. One oddity about this watch is that the Tissot 784 movement has no quickset at all for the calendar - not even a unidirectional calendar driving wheel - so setting the date can be a pain. I usually don’t bother when I wear this one.

Back in the 1950s when Sears Roebuck sold pretty much everything, “everything” included luxury Swiss watches, and Orvin was their exclusive brand. I was particularly excited to open this one up, as I had never serviced a movement with a power reserve indicator and I was very curious how it worked. What I found was some very clever mechanical engineering able to track & differentiate the independent rotation of both the mainspring barrel and the winding arbor. Really cool stuff. The watch doesn’t look half bad either. I ended up overplating the case, and it turned out very nicely.

This lovely Genève really captures the understated elegance Omega perfected in the early 1970s, with a champagne silver sunburst dial framed by sharply faceted gold-plated markers that catch the light with every turn of the wrist. Beneath that beautiful dial beats Omega’s revered caliber 565, a 24-jewel automatic workhorse celebrated for its smooth winding action and quick-set date mechanism — one of the finest movements the company ever produced.

Back in the days when the big watch brands hadn’t really established a dedicated retail presence, it wasn’t uncommon for major watch boutiques like Turler to sell pieces with their name co-signed on the dial. The 562 automatic movement powering this example is a bit aesthetically compromised due to oxidation - probably from being worn while swimming - but it works very well and keeps great time. It’s an important watch for me, both because it was my first Omega restoration, and because it was the first watch where I was able to successfully straighten a damaged, bent hairspring - an important milestone in my watchmaking journey.

This Omega caught my attention when it showed up in a “parts & repair” auction listing due to its dramatic case shape and the bold indices on its dial. I was excited when I opened it up and found that the Omega 500 movement looked completely pristine, with none of the telltale signs of previous servicing. Following a thorough service, it now runs beautifully. Other than replacing the crystal, I left the exterior intact, scratches and all, as I didn’t think a re-plate or overplate on this watch would look right.

An Omega bumper automatic with a cool textured black dial. This watch definitely stands out on the wrist - so much so that you definitely need to think about what else you’re wearing when you strap it on. Like all bumper automatics, the winding action isn’t very efficient, but it makes for a lively companion on your wrist.

This Omega is one of my favorites. The polished stainless steel case contrasts really nicely with the subtle golden shade of the dial as well as the gold hands and indices. The case and dial on this one are also in particularly good condition. Inside is a classic bumper automatic movement which, while showing a signficant amount of cosmetic wear, still runs great. I love the way these bumper automatics occasionally squirm a bit on your wrist as if they’re alive.

If you forced me to pick the best-looking watch in my collection, I’m pretty sure it would be this one. Something about the dial design on this JLC is just perfect - pictures don’t really do it justice. It’s powered by a rather handsome bumper automatic movement, so, like most bumper autos, it occasionally gives a little twitch on your wrist to remind you it’s there. It also has a really unusual shock setting for the balance, where the upper balance jewels are retained by a pivoting brass spring arm.

Some vintage watches are highly cooperative. Others, not so much. This particular Hamilton fought me tooth & nail, but I persisted (through multiple donor movements) because I really love the style of the dial. The Buren-sourced microrotor movement in this thing is cool looking, but not fun to work on. Lowlights include a complex and cantankerous compound ratchet wheel, a frankly terrible click spring design, and a difficult-to-assemble automatic winding mechanism underneath the rotor. Eventually I got it working, however. Well, except for the calendar - the calendar driving wheel, like most of the rest of this movement, is complex and delicate, and the one in this watch literally fell apart. I have not yet been able to source a replacement, so the calendar is currently stuck on 6 (short for “666”).