Happy Friday, folks, and congrats on bustling through another week. Hopefully you’re staring down a welcome break of a weekend with rest and good cheer.
Scorekeeping last week’s picks, the Zenith De Luca sold for €4,750, the Carlo Ferrara for €2,816, the Gen 1 Speedmaster X-33 for 2,000 SGD, and the Patek Philippe 1415 will sell this Friday.
Strays
Photo courtesy of The Saleroom.
For those suddenly enthusiastic about vintage Zenith De Lucas that look an awful lot like the Daytona of the same time period, here’s an excellent example, but if you’d rather a Zenith with a little more color and flash and water resistance, here’s a great-looking vintage Defy. This Gübelin pocket watch is breath-arrestingly lovely, as are both of these (dog leg, non dog leg) 18k Omega Constellations. This Vintage Meister Anker chronograph is a catch-22 watch in that it looks really cool, but it’s also got a plated case, and it’s powered by an Ebauches Bettlach pin-lever movement, so proceed with caution. On September 18, Millon in Paris will host an auction that’s listed as the “Collection Monsieur B,” and whoever Monsieur B is, he’s got phenomenal taste. Among the offerings are an Omega Chronometer Seamaster ‘Sparkle’ reference 168.022, a Universal Genève Polerouter Super, an Omega Holy Grail, a Sinn EZM 1, and a Zenith El Primero A386, but there are tons more you should go check out. Finally: Memosails forever.
A Pair of Issued Smiths
The British Ministry of Defense issued the Smiths W10 from 1967 to 1970, but a decade before that, the MoD contracted with Smiths as well. That earlier watch, made from 1954-1956, is the Smiths DeLuxe Broad Arrow. To contextualize that development, it’s worth bearing in mind that in 1953, Hillary summited Everest with his own personal Smiths DeLuxe (yes, along with a Rolex, and feel free to delve to your heart’s content into the debates about which watch he actually wore), so the MoD wasn’t exactly larking out on its own in contracting with Smiths.
Photo courtesy of Science Museum Group.
Though it’s easiest to call this watch a DeLuxe Broad Arrow, to my knowledge it has no official name or reference. It’s often badged as reference 6B/542, but that’s not a reference; it’s a designation (the 6B means the watch was made for the RAF, and the 542 means it was a pilot watch, and Omega made 6B/542s as well). Regardless, this particular Smiths DeLuxe is from the batch of 300 made in the 50s (this one’s from 56, based on the caseback etchings) and, like the rest of them, this example was sent back to Smiths for a new dial once the general danger of radium was made clear—the circle T is for tritium.
A DeLuxe Broad Arrow.
Photo courtesy of Roseberys London.
This example is in excellent shape. The dial and hands look great, and the case looks almost miraculously nice for being 70 years old. The auction house’s estimate of 600-800 GBP has already been laughed off, with the current high bid at the time of writing 1,900 GBP.
And then there’s this Smiths A10, which is as close to a clone as you could get of the earlier DeLuxe. The stainless steel case is still 35mm, the dial is still military-issue clear, and the biggest visible change is the difference in fonts. Like the DeLuxe, the W10 looks to be in excellent condition, with the only real knock being that the lume on the hands has darkened.
Photo courtesy of Roseberys London.
Photo courtesy of Dorotheum.
Photo courtesy of Dorotheum.
Dorotheum is auctioning the A10 on the 17th, with a €1,400-2000 estimate and no bids at time of writing. The DeLuxe is offered by Roseberys and will be auctioned on the 16th. You really can’t go wrong with either of these, and I’d note the Dorotheum auction catalog is worth a full browse, if only for this freakishly pretty gold Girard Perregaux and this delightful egg-shaped Mellerio, called the M Cut, which design is based on the Beau Sancy, a legendary diamond I’ll leave you to guess the shape of.
Gübelin 18k Triple Date Moonphase
Photo courtesy of The Arrow Of Time.
This is one of those watches about which it’s hard to think of what to say that the picture doesn’t already shout. Maybe most impressive is the fact that it’s positively huge by midcentury standards, at 37.5mm (my own personal Leonidas triple-date moonphase clocks in at a wimpy 34mm). And what a gorgeous case it is, handled well enough over the years that the gold hallmark is still visible, as is the beautiful step/bevel on the lugs, and while the crown’s darkened a bit, it’s still original.
Photo courtesy of The Arrow Of Time.
Photo courtesy of The Arrow Of Time.
Should those features not be enough for you, you can enjoy a private little chuckle each time you look at the dial and read ‘Ipso Matic.’ If you know your Latin, or you know (or are) one of those didacts who use ‘Ipso facto,’ you know the phrase on the Gübelin’s dial is a fancified way of saying ‘self-winding.’ Plus there’s the date, and, specifically, how Gübelin, unlike most other pointer dates, chose on this watch to keep the date ring within the applied numerals, rather than way out at the edge of the dial. I cannot imagine there’s much of a functional difference because of this choice, but it’s a lovely aesthetic one, with the date ring now seeming to highlight the single Roman numeral index at 12. The rest of the dial seems nearly without flaw; the only knock I can find is that the day and month discs seem to have darkened.
Photo courtesy of The Arrow Of Time.
Arrow of Time is offering this Gübelin for €11,000, and certainly if you’re interested in a really stellar example of a midcentury triple-date moonphase, you could go a long, long time before you found another in such good condition.
Universal Genève Ferrovie dello Stato
Photo courtesy of The Saleroom.
Here’s another ‘issued’ watch, though in this case it was for workers on the Italian public rail service. By dint of its railway heritage, this watch is a sort of spiritual cousin to the Ball railroad watches I remain so dedicated to, in the sense that the dial’s unfussily no-nonsense. Stark white. Clear black numerals. Nothing to get in the way of legibility, and a great physical reminder of the fact that, as the leadership books remind us, clarity is kindness.
Photo courtesy of The Saleroom.
The UG FS came in three versions, and this particular example is from the biggest batch, the Mk2. Mark 1s are distinct due to their 34mm circular cases, while the Mk2 and Mk3 came in the larger 36mm cushion case. This watch is quite often described as having an enamel dial, but that’s not quite right: it’s a stamped dial, with the hour numerals raised, which is then painted a glossy white (with black hash marks and numerals, obviously). This is 100% a minor point, but it feels disingenuous to keep repeating that the UG FS has an enamel dial.
Photo courtesy of The Saleroom.
Photo courtesy of The Saleroom.
Powered by the non-chronometer, non-hacking Universal Genève cal 64, this specific UG FS is in good, used condition. The dial looks fantastic, which is the biggest selling point; I’m fairly confident the two light green specks you can see on the watch (between 9 and 10, and right at 11), are on the crystal. The case has to be unpolished, given the wear on the bottom of the front of the watch, but the caseback looks excellent, as do the sides and unpolished crown, and that acrylic crystal’s one good polish from being showroom-ready.
This watch is selling on the 15th in Alnick, England, and has already blown well past its (comic) 40-60 GBP estimate, bid up to 210 GBP at the time of writing. These UG FSs are both fairly standard and simple watches and also totally charming, and mostly they stay around the $1,000 mark.
A Pair of Vintage Autavia
Photo courtesy of The Saleroom.
Let’s close the week with another pair. Auctioning in the Netherlands on the 18th of September, these two vintage Heuer Autavias are worth a closer look.
First off is this PVD-coated 113.603, which is worth a highlight simply for the condition of its coating. The pushers and bracelet are both showing wear, as you’d expect, but the case and bezel look really, really excellent. The lume has darkened in the hands, but that’s really it as far as detractions, and the watch comes on its original bracelet and in its original box as well. Introduced in 1983, this Autavia is from the very last era before Heuer was purchased by TAG in ’85.
Photo courtesy of The Saleroom.
Next is this almost-Orange-Boy Autavia, reference 11630MH. Again, the case is the big selling point, given this looks remarkably unworn, with the original brushing and bevels clear, though the sides look a fair bit softer. Introduced in 1972, the watch, sadly, was too late for the glorious Gay Frères bracelets that came on earlier Autavias. Like the 113.603, the cal 12 powers this watch, and the elementary school admonition about saying nothing if you don’t have anything nice to say precludes me from saying more.
Photo courtesy of The Saleroom.
Photo courtesy of The Saleroom.
These watches are from when Heuer—like many others—was beginning to struggle. Both use the same recognizable case Heuer used for most of their Autavias once it switched to the Cal 11/12/15. As Jack Heuer himself said “A tough year, 1971,” when describing the company’s position at the dawn of the quartz crisis. There’s something a little wild about comparing these two, simply because, despite a decade passing between each model’s introduction, there’s very little change between them. Contrast that, if you’re interested, with the difference between a Heuer Autavia from 1962 and one from 1972.
Photo courtesy of The Saleroom.
Both watches have estimates of €2,000-4,000, and both, again, sell on the 18th.
