Family ties: the Time+Tide Team shares the watches they own that mean the most to them

Time+Tide

Watches are incredibly fascinating due to their duality. Scientific and romantic. Chronometric and artistic. Unlike paintings or cars, for example, watches can truly go anywhere we want to take them with us without any major effort or organisation. Once strapped to the wrist, they are intentionally or unintentionally taken along for the ride. They also have a beautiful immortality; they’re a generational item that can have a life or story of its own before, during, and after yours. They accrue stories as they accrue scratches, becoming distinct sparks and symbols within each of our own distinct experiences and senses of artistic, aesthetic expression.

Born to tell the time, but have become so much more, mechanical (or non-smart) wristwatches continue to ultimately thrive due to the meaning we associate with them – and often, the strongest meaning stems from family. So, the Time+Tide team has come together to share the watches in their collections with strong family ties and the stories behind their significance.

Russell’s pick: my dad’s Omega Seamaster 120

I spoke to Zach about this watch when I first joined the company because it is quite literally my earliest memory of a watch: sitting in the front passenger seat of my dad’s Volvo estate (those things really were boxes on wheels in the best way) and playing with that slightly worn-out rotating bezel to occupy me on what must have been a long car ride. This was before the concept of an iPad child was thought of, or an iPad for that matter, and the only thing my dad had on him to keep me distracted and quiet was his watch. I must have been really annoying him as I now know how much that watch meant to him; his dad bought it for him when he turned 18 and was considering a career in deep-sea diving after being a relatively successful competitive swimmer.

I followed my dad’s footsteps when I was a kid in becoming a swimmer, and did ok, but the memory of that watch faded over the years as he stopped wearing it, and I never knew why until I started seeing it on my oldest brother’s wrist. My dad had passed it down and switched his Omega for a modern Hamilton Khaki Field, and while I will always respect his decision to give it to his firstborn, I can’t say I haven’t thought about altering my brother’s will to ensure I get it next.

The watch is something that has now connected four men in my family, and while I was the only one of them to not meet my grandfather who originally bought it, I have been lucky enough to spend a couple of extended periods with this watch, even taking it to the Omega museum in Biel where I found its counterpart in the display case – a very surreal moment to see the watch on your wrist in a literal museum.

Has this watch perhaps shaped my taste in watches? Very likely. I love small divers, hence why my daily is a 36mm Oris and my nicest watch is a birth year Tudor Submariner 36mm. There is something about this watch that reaches back in my mind to the earliest memories I have, and connects them to who I am today. The only other object I know of that has that same power is another family heirloom, which was the armchair I know own from my other grandfather… And if that’s not what a family watch should be all about, then I don’t know what that is.

Tom’s pick: my wife’s TAG Heuer Formula 1

I met my wife in 2010, and as weird as this sounds, I distinctly remember we chatted about watches on our first date. I’m that sad, I can remember that I was wearing a TAG Heuer Aquaracer ref. WAB2010, and she was wearing a massive gold-coloured Michael Kors watch, which I tease her about even to this day. As some of you may know, that was the year I had a nasty bike accident, which is why I wear watches on my right wrist these days. During that time, she nursed me back to health and stuck by me ever since. So when I was back on my feet, I decided to replace her watch with something a bit more special. I bought her a TAG Heuer Formula 1 ref. WAH1314, in stainless steel and ceramic, with a diamond-set dial.

I couldn’t afford it at the time, but I was young and stupid, and she deserved it, and I’ll admit that I couldn’t put up with the monstrous Michael Kors watch jangling around her petite wrist any longer. She has a few more watches these days, but this one is special to both of us, and the steel has taken on a lovely patina of heavy daily use, which is lovely to see. At 31mm, it’s a bit small by today’s standards, but on her wrist, it looks great, and being quartz-powered, she doesn’t have to hassle me to set it for her all the time. Hopefully, I think this one’s a keeper.

Jamie’s pick: my dad’s Eterna Airforce II

Like Russell’s pick, this is the watch that got me into watches. Purchased by my dad during his uni days on the recommendation of a watch enthusiast mate of his, some of my earliest memories include my dad taking his watch off after a long day of work, handing it to me and letting me play with it. I remember marvelling at how its seconds hand seemed to sweep so gracefully compared to the quartz clock on my bedroom wall, and putting the watch to my ear to hear it tick, moving it around to hear the rotor swing.

To me, it was a thing of mystery and beauty, as well as something extremely precious and grown-up. It’s what sparked that subconscious initial interest in timepieces that has now bloomed into a full-time career as a watch journalist.

My family have a connection to Eterna, too: at one point, we were an agent for the brand in Australia. My grandfather also wore an Eterna, a Centenaire Dato, which has a quirky mechanism through which you advance the date window by pulling the crown in and out. I’ve inherited that Eterna as well, but I don’t wear it very often because it’s so fragile, and truthfully, my dad’s Airforce II holds a lot more significance for me.

The first time I went to Geneva for the watch fair season, I wore dad’s Eterna – I figured wearing a watch from a non-exhibiting brand was the best way to not offend anyone (and I did the same thing for my first LVMH Watch Week) – and it felt like coming full circle. Every time I wear it, it reminds me of the pure childlike joy I had handling it as a kid, and how lucky I am to be able to make a living writing about these little machines that I love so much.

Pietro’s pick: my brother’s wedding watch

There are a few watches I could write about that have been passed down as family heirlooms, from a great-grandfather’s Zenith to my father’s Rolex Submariner, but there are two that especially hold a special place in my heart. I already wrote about them in last year’s roundup, but I feel this is the right occasion to discuss them again: I’m referring to the watches I designed and made for my brother and his wife for their wedding.

There is an eight-year age difference between him and me, but we have become increasingly close over the years. He has always been one of my role models, supporting my choices when they were right and very openly pointing out my mistakes. He was an impartial judge, but he helped me more than I could ever thank him for, and using his wedding as an excuse, this gift was definitely also a big thank you for that.

The original plan was to have a prototype that I would keep in addition to the two final pieces. Time constraints and the necessity of using some of its parts to complete the final watches changed the initial idea, and the prototype was never finished. From time to time, I still think about completing it, but a part of me believes that just two of those watches exist and carry a deeper meaning, given that they are and will be unique, just like their owners.

I’m confident I’ll eventually design more watches, but even if these were the only two watches I had ever designed that were produced, I would be glad to know that my brother and my sister-in-law are the only keepers of my timepieces.

Alex’s pick: my grandfather’s Seiko 5

My grandfather lived the longest life he could in the sun. A professional surfer and a hobbyist fisherman who was pushed into the shade by the vulgarity and unfairness of cancer, when he passed in late 2023, I inherited his watch collection and rolled around town in bawdy fashion with his vintage Omega Seamaster on my wrist.

It was only until the slideshow backdropping his eulogy that I recognised his happiest days as a young man were spent sunburnt on a boat wearing his Seiko 5 ref. 6119-5490. The Omega went back to collecting dust, and the Seiko became my talisman of his remembrance. The watch doesn’t come out daily, but whenever I head down to the Yarra River to fish or brave St Kilda’s beaches, I always don Pop’s watch and remember him in the sun.

Zach’s pick: the Rolex Datejust 36

I won’t be so cliche as to presume we have saved the best for last. When I proposed this team picks article, I knew I had a lot I wanted to share, and being at the close here affords me the freedom to hold the microphone a bit longer. As I mentioned briefly in the above video, which you should definitely check out, the Rolex Datejust 36, or rather my grandfather’s Rolex Datejust 36, is the horological catalyst that sent me down the rabbit hole – or at least showed me where it was. It may have just been the innocent curiosity of a child then, intrigued by a Cyclops magnification, the heft of a premium watch in steel and gold, and a seconds hand ticking around the dial. Little did I know it would be to blame for infecting me with “the sickness”.

To be honest, I never really got to talk watches properly with my grandfather. By the time I got into the industry five years ago, his mind and memory were beginning to deteriorate. So in a cruel twist of fate, the more I learned about watches, the more he was losing the wealth of information he once knew. He had sold watches for a living, and I would always see him wearing his trusted yellow Rolesor Datejust 36 with a white dial (though I would later learn he secretly favoured Omega more, despite not wearing one).

My only conversations with him about that watch as a kid were “don’t touch that without my permission, it is not a toy.” It was not so much scolding me as it was a calm message to teach me about responsibility and maturity. The watch was a symbol of his professionalism, achievement, and progress as an adult. An earned status symbol. He was far more interested in instilling in me what it meant to be a gentleman and a good man than what a Superlative Chronometer was. Perhaps he knew how addictive and enticing the world of mechanical watches could be. I was too young then, nor, in fairness, did I exhibit a mechanical or scientific curiosity.

A wall of responsibility had to be built first, rather than a haphazard introduction to the romance, glamour, luxury, and mechanical wonder of it all. Most people encounter watches and become smitten with them due to this element of luxury rather than mechanics. The mechanics, perhaps, are something some become familiar with just to justify the fascination and expense. To prove it means more than just flash and dollars, maybe you have to walk through the door into this watch world yourself. You can’t be, even willingly, dragged in.

This is why, for me, the Rolex Datejust 36 means so much and represents various important things. I will forever associate it with a man who was the epitome of classic and cool. A titan with a strong inner moral compass, a man with clear and all too constant teachings surrounding what it means to be an upstanding gentleman and the responsibilities, fiscally, socially, and all the -allys speaking it entailed. It will always symbolise achievement and maturity in life, a tangible reminder in moments of doubt, frustration, and even failure, that along the way, you achieved more good than bad and must be doing something right, despite not always being sure you have been.

Sadly, my grandfather sold his Datejust before it could ever be passed down to my mother, my aunt, or me or my twin brother. However, I do not resent or lament his decision to do so as, under harder times, its departure from his wrist lived up to the teachings and priorities he had always taught me. Though it was important to him, what he wanted was not more important than the things he needed to do. The difference between “a need” and “a want” is something many within my family have always emphasised. And as my unjustifiably expansive watch collection reveals, I certainly needed the reminder.

With his Datejust gone, it eventually gave me the space to choose my own contemporary Datejust for myself: a white Rolesor ref. 126234 bright blue-dialled Datejust 36 with a Jubilee bracelet and fluted bezel. It may not be his watch, but I have imbued it with all of the same meaning nonetheless. And as his was to him, my Datejust is mine. I got to have a boutique experience of my own, the agency to select my own, and purchased it a year into my Tide+Tide journey. It is a comfort that finds itself very often on my wrist, one that celebrates that I was not entering this industry for just a good time, but a long time. I no longer felt like an outside looking in; I was well and truly a part of it. This world will (hopefully) forever be the centre of my professional career, and I plan for my Datejust to be along for the whole ride.

But in the unfortunate event I have to part ways with it, a serious event that necessitates I leverage the nature of Rolex as wearable cash, I will reluctantly, but responsibly, know that I have the option and that it is the right thing to do. Love you Pop.