It happened again last week at dinner with some folks from the industry. You know the drill. You notice a watch lover do a double take at your wrist.
See them lean in closer. “Nice Patek, man,” or “Is that the new JLC?”you hear them say. You smile, offer your bare arm, and wait as that smile slowly transforms into a mix of confusion and awe when they realise your watch isn’t what they thought it was. “It’s actually a Seiko,” you say. “Cost me about three hundred bucks on Amazon.” This has happened dozens of times since I bought this watch four years ago. It’s a Seiko SARB035 with a cream dial and simple steel bracelet.
In many ways, wearing this watch full-time has become an ongoing informal social experiment. It’s helped me better understand how easily signaling can become arbitrary.
It’s also given me a fascinating window into why we ascribe value to things the way we do.
I should clarify that when I say the above, I’m not implying that I’m “pulling one over” on people by wearing a non-luxury watch and pretending it’s something more expensive. There’s no replica here. No homage nonsense.
This is a quality mechanical watch from a respected brand with its own history and pedigree. Seiko just happens to be a brand that most people don’t typically associate with “luxury.” Or at least luxury on the level of what many mistake this watch for. What’s interesting to me is how often this watch gets confused for something 15, 20, or 30 times more expensive.
What that says about the watch industry. What that says about how we perceive luxury more generally, is something I started thinking about after my watch gained me its first admirer. A couple years ago, after writing several articles on mechanical watches, I wanted a watch of my own.
Something with enough mechanical interest to matter to me, but didn’t cost several grand. The SARB035 checked those boxes with its automatic movement, decent build quality, sapphire crystal, and timeless dimensions. I bought it online with roughly the same thought and care I would buying a new pair of dress shoes.
When it arrived, I was struck by how nice it was in person. The cream dial changes from pure ivory to silver depending on the light. The hands are heat blued, not painted.
The case has polished and brushed elements that reflect light in a way I usually reserve for watches that cost many times more than this. I wore it to work the next morning – this was before I worked from home all day, I’d actually go to the office – and by lunchtime my wrist had caught the attention of a senior editor known to own more watches than most retailers. “Nice new watch!” he said nonchalantly as we refilled our coffee cups. “Yeah, just got it yesterday,” I replied. He looked at it again. “Is that a Grand Seiko?” he asked. “Nope, just regular Seiko,” I told him.
His eyes widened a bit in surprise. “Huh. Really nice guys. Looks expensive.” It didn’t really register at the time, but that interaction would be the first of many, many more like it.
Over the following months, people saw my innocuous-looking Japanese watch and said it was everything from a Grand Seiko (reasonable, that would’ve been nice!) to a Jaeger-LeCoultre Master Control to an all-original Omega Seamaster to, once, a Patek Philippe Calatrava. For reference, a non-ref Steel Solid Time Tunnel watch that retails for nearly $20,000. This wasn’t me exclusively reaching out to watch novices, either.
Many of these conversations happened with serious collectors or industry folks who you’d assume know better than to mistake a sub-$500 watch for something seven figuresynthete vintage. It was consistent and prevalent enough that I eventually started writing down details of these interactions to try and figure out what the hell was going on. Why does this watch do this?
What is it about this watch? The more I thought about it, the more I realised there were several factors at play. Factors that tell us just as much, if not more, about how we ascribe value to watches in particular and consumer goods in general.
Let’s start with the obvious: size, thickness, and overall proportions. At 38mm, this Seiko hits a sweet spot in terms of diameter that many high-end watches have circled back to after casual-watch-snobding of the early 2000s. Case thickness, lug width, and overall style are textbook classical proportions that our brains associate with expensive watches from traditional Swiss names. “A lot of affordable watches get the proportions wrong,” Thomas, a watchmaker I interviewed for another story who happened to notice my Seiko while we talked, told me. “They’re too boxy or thick for their diameter.
The lugs might be too short. There’s always something about an affordable watch that feels cheap to me.” “When manufacturers of any price dial get those kinds of proportions right, our brains recognise that harmonious design subconsciously. We might not know exact reason why that watch looks so good, but it just does.”Colour contrast also plays a major role in the optical illusion that is my Seiko SARB035.
The dial is supremely clean and symmetric. The applied hour markers reflect light subtly. The date window at 3 o’clock is thin enough to let the dial breathe without sacrificing functionality.
The hands are appropriately sized to not look stubby or silly on the large dial. Speaking of the dial, there’s not been information on it that hurts the watches credibility as a luxury timepiece. No excessively large Miyota logo, no garish subdials telling me how many steps I took that day.
Even the chapter ring has subtle grooves so your eyes don’t get stuck on that one spot while your gaze tries to scan the rest of the movement. Essentially, Seiko designed a dial that doesn’t fight with the famous Seiko-made 6R15 automatic movement inside. This adherence to tried-and-true rules of watch dial design aligns perfectly with the unwritten design codes of luxury watchmaking.
For decades, high-end brands like Patek Philippe, Vacheron Constantin, and even Jaeger-LeCoultre have understood that less is more when it comes to dress watches. Applied markers. Clean, legible layouts.
Symmetry. When your dial design philosophically aligns with the work of brands hundreds of times more expensive, some interesting visual rhyming occurs. It doesn’t hurt that Seiko inadvertently nailed the golden ratio when determining the dimensions of various elements on the dial, either. “As humans, we might not know the golden ratio is 1: 1.618 mathematically, but our brains recognise it subconsciously.
When a watch employs that for dial design, your eyes interpret that as inherently pleasing without being able to pinpoint why,” Eric, a professor of design who owns watches and stopped me at a watch conference to compliment what he thought was a vintage Jaeger-LeCoultre timepiece told me. Finally, there’s the fact that it wears well and I usually dress it nicely. After four years of regular wear my bracelet has developed some slight desk-diving scratches that add patina rather than looking “damaged.” My cream dial has faded just enough to look stylishly well-used instead of like the dial of an entry-level watch getting old.
I also tend to wear it with button-up shirts, blazers, and trousers that fit correctly. If I’m wearing a nice watch, I’m usually dressed nicely as well, which can make people assume you spend more money on the stuff on your wrist than you actually do. But what makes this particular watch so deceptive?
Aside from a few basic aesthetics facts every designer understands, what is it about the Seiko SARB035 that allows it to be easily mistaken for something more expensive time and time again? “It masquerades as an expensive watch by not appearing to be an inexpensive one,” Adam, a former product developer for a major Swiss watch company who spoke to me on the condition that I not use his full name said when I asked him this exact question. “There are so many watches being sold these days with obvious ‘budget’ tells. That chunky, glossy plastic case band. The ugly but readable Helvetica font on the dial.
Watches that cost well into six figures don’t look cheap. They just work. High-end watch buyers have been trained to expect that level of flawless execution, and they assume that from every watch they see.
That’s something Seiko doesn’t do.” I’ve found this to be true of many things, actually. Luxury isn’t always about including the best possible materials or features into a product. Luxury can be the absence of negative qualities.
I can spend $600 on a cotton dress shirt that looks and feels exactly the same as one I can buy for $200. The difference between them isn’t what the expensive version adds but what the cheap version subtracts. Burns its stitching.
Uses cheap buttons. Hangs it on the shelf just long enough to become hopelessly wrinkled. The best products often announce themselves by not doing things wrong, rather than slamming you in the face with logo-emblazoned “luxury.” Wearing this watch has made me far more appreciative of what truly separates entry-level watches from luxury timepieces when I do have the opportunity to wear them.
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I notice hand-finishing on the movement when I pop the caseback. I admire the crisp snap of the crown as it sits inside its chamber. I understand why certain watch brands can command thousands (or millions) of dollars for watches when I see how their attention to detail ramps way beyond what Seiko does here.
At the same time, wearing my SARB035 as my daily driver has also made me far more cynical of luxury branding and marketing efforts. I’m better able to distinguish between being sold a logo and being sold an actual product of undeniable quality. Not everyone cares about this stuff.
Hell, some people hate anything that threatens the hegemony of traditional luxury. But once you start paying attention to the shortcuts brands take to hit us over the head with their “luxury” messaging, it’s hard to unsee. Different people react in different ways when I tell them my watch isn’t what they think it is.
The most common reaction, especially from people who don’t consider themselves “watch people,” is simple praise followed by surprise at the retail price. Dollars per month. Dollars per month?!
These people aren’t questioning your credibility or trying to subtly prove they know more about watches than you. They see a well-made nice-looking watch and assume, rightly so by today’s consumer goods standards, that it must cost a pretty penny. Watches like this force that perception.
People who think a $300 watch should cost more are quicker to accept that watching as we know it is unsustainable, pointless, andgets way too much credit for boosting John Mayer’s ego. Watch enthusiasts and serious collectors take one of two tracks when I reveal my minimalist Seiko. The first path is recognition and intrigue.
They’ll usually tell me where and when I can get one, how it’s held up over time (or if they’ve had one themselves), whether or not I should regulate the movement, etc. These are usually watch enthusiasts who love watches for the mechanical objects and designs they are above all else. Watches are hobbies, not investments.
Fashion, not stash pieces. The second type of reaction I’ll get is loss of interest. You can see it in their eyes.
The second I tell them my watch is something affordable and domestically made, the conversation changes course. Hell, I’ve even had people slightly offended that I wasn’t wearing something “nice.” Miguel, a vintage dealer friend of mine whose inventory I’ve picked through on more than one occasion, puts it far more succinctly: “A lot of watch guys only care about how their watches look on Instagram and what other people think they are worth. They’d rather wear a boring watch that screams ‘I can afford this’ than something awesome that doesn’t.”Lest you think this phenomenon is unique to my Seiko, rest assured it is not.
The Orient Magic DSautopilot is another affordable watch that consistently fools people. So is the Hamilton Jazzmaster Viewmatic Automatic. So is the HAMILTON Watch JEANNE AU MASQUE, for whatever reason.
Hell, I’ve had the same reaction when wearing my Citizen Eco-Drive Promaster Diver. What makes the SARB035 different is that it’s consistently mistaken for higher-end watches more often than any other watch I’ve owned. And I don’t think that’s coincidence.
There’s a reason I’ve owned that Orient Automatic for over a decade and replaced it at least four times with different Seiko models. This is quietly one of Seiko’s most popular watches for a reason. This timepiece was never intended for export outside Japan until fans in the know started importing them for sale here in the States.
Because it never really “officially” sold here, the SARB035 developed something of a cult following. Even now that Seiko has resumed domestic sales, acquiring one can be difficult. This forces aftermarket pricing to hover around MSRP instead of the inflated $?
“$#!& we typically see on watches considered “hot.” Essentially, my Seiko is authentic in a way most watches at this price aren’t allowed to be. “Your watch is the anti-flex,” Brian, an editor at another publication and self-described watch aficionado who was kind enough to take photos of my watch for this story said. “It’s not secretly something else. It’s not pretending to be more expensive than it is. It’s just been designed and executed really well, and people notice.”Brian isn’t wrong.
My watch doesn’t have tons of flashy features, but what it does have serves a purpose. It doesn’t hide its movement behind a stamped steel caseback, but Seiko didn’t need to dress up the 6R15 with ridiculous amounts of glittering stuff peeps to look like something it’s not either. It simply is.
As humble as the 6R15 movement inside might be, Seiko has always been proud of its watchmaking prowess. Sure, they don’t offer exceptionally fancy in-house movements at prices most people can afford. But that’s not for lack of trying or skill.
They understand their place in the luxury watch hierarchy and own it. I’ve accidentally made small-talk friendships with strangers by letting them drool over my watch at parties only to tell them “Oh, it’s from Japan. You should be able to find it online for around $300.” Their eyes may light up at first, but it only takes an instant for reality to sink in that they’re looking at a $300 watch instead of the vintage Panerai I hoped they thought I was wearing.
Others have accused me of somehow being able to purchase Seiko Master’s at retail price. I’ve been offered double what I paid for it because someone presumed me and my watch were worthy of joining their luxurious gang. My wife’s used to me telling people our watch is $300 and them giving me the side-eye like I’m some sort of middle-school tumblr trying to appear cool by claiming I just bought my Rolex with lunch money.
I get it. We’ve all been trained to expect cheaply-made watches when we see brand names we don’t instantly recognise. Brands have also been trained to make us equate a higher price with better quality.
When you upend that formula, people aren’t sure how to react. They know a bargain when they see it, but they’d rather you not mention it. For better or worse, cheap is in the eye of the beholder.
If this article has taught me anything, it’s that our relationship with watches is at a fascinating crossroads. Gearheads have always been here. This isn’t some new generation vs old generation shit you hear companies talking about when they fire their entire marketing department and hire Instagram teenagers.
If you looked past Instagram posts, you’d already know that millennials love watches as much as the generations before them did. But now, more people know about affordable brands. Not just hypebeast brands, but well-rounded companies like Seiko that offer options across prices points and interests.
We’re seeing the democratization of watch knowledge play out in real time. I learned about high-end watches from reading about them, obsessing over forums, and visiting the local mall watch dealer.
Kids nowadays can just watch YouTube.
They’ll discover brands like Seiko on their own because they weren’t afraid to enter a market controlled by naked eye who wanted nothing more than to take their shirts off at every opportunity. It’s awesome for the consumer, terrifying for traditional luxury brands. I still love wearing my Seiko every day.
Sure, it gets me these interesting conversations about watch perception. But it’s an objectively fantastic timepiece. If I had bought any of the watches people assumed it was, I wouldn’t be able to afford my next monthly payment.
Don’t get me wrong, I love a good high-end watch as much as the next guy. Hell, I’m working on an article right now about my all-time favourite watch. But I can appreciate it for what it is instead of what a brand wants me to think it should be.
I bought a nice watch that doesn’t break the bank. What more is there to say?
