It’s been a week—fashionably so!
I’ve spent the last few days at Lakme Fashion Week, and I’m back at work terribly inspired. Not just by the creativity on display in those prêt collections, but also by how much I’d like to tweak the way I dress. Isn’t that the purpose of art? To inspire those who see it to seek it out for themselves. Besides, with the festivities all around, you can’t fault a man for having some fashion fun.
Speaking of fashion, we’ve been up to a lot of it on our website. Arshita Suri sat down with Pero’s Aneeth Arora, while Aditi Tarafdar spoke to HUEMN’s Pranav Misra and Amit Aggarwal about their shows. And for those of you with other pursuits, could I interest you in two fantastic conversations with authors instead? Prannay Pathak’s exclusive conversation with everyone’s favourite author, Elif Shafak, and Anwesh Banerjee’s chat with Last Queen of Bengal’s writer Sandip Roy.
You’d like more, is it? Our in-house watch guy, Nitin Sreedhar, writes about what makes a watch worth keeping—I’m sure you’re going to enjoy it.
That’s all from me this week. Have a good one!
Saurav Bhanot
Digital Editor, Esquire India
Some watches carry stories that stay with us, whether they’re on our wrist or someone else’s
By Nitin Sreedhar
I was five when I first held a small watch in my hands: it was a red and black Titan Dash, with a white dial. It had a rotating red ring on the outside that caught my eye and as I turned it, it would make a crisp clicking sound. I didn’t know it then, but that little ring was a rotating bezel and I had been hooked on watches.
I’ve worn a watch every day since; I can hardly recall a day when I have stepped out without one strapped to my left wrist. Working at Esquire India, where I’ve had the good fortune to be exposed to some of the finest watchmaking from around the world, has made me think harder about what makes a timepiece truly special. I’ve come to realise that it isn’t necessarily the price, the rarity or even the distinction of owning something few others have.
During a recent conversation, Baume & Mercier CEO Michael Guenoun expressed an interesting perspective on the significance of owning a wristwatch. “You express something with your watch. You express something about your personality,” he said. “When you offer a watch to someone, you also express your sentiment and emotion.”
I feel something similar towards my collection of timepieces, which I’ve steadily built over the years. The most recent addition, the Terra from Delhi Watch Company, brings my haul to 25. A quarter of the way to 100, then. The number has long symbolised perfection, a sense of wholeness, for me. Perhaps I’ll stop collecting when I get there.
But I’m not just collecting watches; I’m collecting memories. Every timepiece in my collection has a story, and each story makes it special to me.
Not every watch has to be a luxury piece, though. Some months ago, I dug out an old day-date quartz watch that belongs to my father, but one he never wore enough. A little nip and tuck later, it now rests on my wrist. I see it as an heirloom; one I hope will stay in the family for generations.
In recent years, I have ventured into the tight corners of New Delhi’s razed-down markets in search of Swiss timepieces that have been given a second life by watch repairers. One find, a classic 1960s Roamer, is now part of my inventory, even though it doesn’t run anymore. (It tells the correct time at least twice a day.) An HMT Pilot, with a repainted dial, has also found a space in my collection. Coveted even today by the watch community in India for its sentimental and historical value, it’s another reminder that a timepiece’s worth goes beyond its condition.
In 2025, the journalist in me was rubbing his wrists in anticipation of the Timex x New Yorker Centennial Watch. Limited to 1,854 individually numbered pieces worldwide, it is a modern-day reissue of Timex’s iconic ‘60s Marlin hand-wound watch. I own one of them. There’s something special about a watch that marks a moment in time, and this one celebrates a century of The New Yorker.
At airport duty-free stores, searching for a rare timepiece that might not catch someone else’s eye has become somewhat of a ritual for me. A year ago, while killing time at Dubai airport, I spotted an Alba tank watch. Its companion, a ladies’ watch, had found a buyer but this fellow sat alone in a corner, forgotten and forlorn. For a little less than $50, I was more than happy to rescue it. My first tank watch, finished with a classy brown leather strap, all the way from Dubai. Now, that’s a story.
Sometimes the story isn’t about the watch you bring home, but the one you leave behind. A couple of years ago, I reported on the famous $1 watch from Timex. It was another one of those classics everyone wanted, and I found myself swept up in the excitement surrounding it. Only 1,000 pieces were made available globally. When the sale went live, the watch sold out online in seconds, and stampedes reportedly ensued at some physical stores. But a closer look made me realise that this watch wasn’t for me. It didn’t speak to me, and I walked away without buying it. Yet, that chaotic experience taught me that a watch can be coveted by everyone and still mean nothing to you.
My colleague Prannay Pathak, Esquire India’s head of copy, recently bought the Casio MQ-24, or what I like to call the everyday analogue for writers. It just tells you the time. No nonsense. Clean and simple. When he was contemplating the purchase, my advice to him was simple: if you like a watch and can afford it, buy it.
What makes you hold on to a watch, however, is often something else entirely. It could be the memory of a person, the tale behind its discovery or simply the way it makes you feel when you wear it. As Favre Leuba’s Patrik Hoffmann told me, “A mechanical timepiece is a very sustainable investment. You might not wear it, but you are not going to throw it away.… A watch is like a second skin. It is a part of you.” Twenty-five watches in, I know exactly what he means.