I had worn through the crocodile epidermis (ok, put that way it's kind of nasty) on my older JLC, a Master Chronograph that always astonishes watchmakers when they see it, much like the last of the Interceptor V-8s.
This is kind of odd, because it's one of the mechaquartz models. Quartz being, in this age of neo-retro-horology, like going commando at your wedding, and not being in a kilt while doing so. I like to remind the pain-in-the-butt purists that Patek makes a huge number of quartz watches -- but then, those who know, know, and those who don't know, we don't care to know, because who are those people anyway?
Inferior though it may be, the last model Master Chronograph is -- per JLC form -- the perfect example of the type, and watchmakers love to see them. They usually get so excited that females around them, even if they don't understand, think that I brought in the hope diamond for a little polishing. It is
amazing how much attention I get from all the female salespeople on these rare occasions, despite how relatively little the watch cost.
No, this entry is not to point out how erudite I am in my fine choice of timepieces, or any shallowness of the female character, but rather, to relate the incredibly odd experience I had buying a strap for this watch.
I had intended to walk into
Shreve, a nice big jewelry store downtown, near Hermes and other goodness. They carry all kinds of brands on my hit list, like the aforementioned PP and A Lange & Sohne, in addition to JLC, who have, unfortunately, embraced the large watch movement with abandon. This only makes sense, since they engineer the most difficult complications for most of the other top-tier manufactures, and would inevitably follow suit.
You'd think a store such as this would have scads of straps, and I'd be able to walk in and say,"Hie thee hence and fetch me a black croc strap for a Master Chrono."
You'd be wrong, as was I.
Now, your watch is basically the same as mine, unless you're wearing a pocket watch or some Rado or Casio variant (among others, but you'll get the idea). There's a strap or bracelet attached to the case of the watch at some point, usually between two pairs of thick prongs called "lugs". The strap or bracelet fastens closed in some way, with a buckle, a clasp, or what is called a deployant. The strap or bracelet itself is long enough to go around your wrist.
So, three things really matter: space between the lugs (not to big, not to little, but just right), type of clasp, and length of strap/bracelet. Beyond that, it's cosmetic -- do you want the end of the strap curved to conform to the edge of the watch, do you want it in dead crocodile, dead ostrich, dead cow, dead snake, etc.
It came to pass that the bag of straps the first service desk person brought out contained nothing that would fit my watch, because I wear a smaller watch than the current 40mm+ behemoths.
As a result, a special order was called for. Since I was buying one strap, I thought, I might as well buy a second strap for my other JLC, a
Master Ultra Thin I bought a few years ago and have
had fun with since.
They're a dealer, they carry 60 watches from the company, they have to be just about the biggest JLC dealer in the area.
"Do you have the watch with you?"
"No. I only wore one watch today."
"I cannot order the strap for that watch, as I need to take the numbers off of the back."
At first I thought this was some ham-handed anti-theft mechanism, to keep track of stolen serial numbers, but she wasn't after "Number 1004" at all, just the style number, which they should have on file. Heck, she could have gotten all the information she needed with a pair of calipers.
She went on to explain that ordering straps is always the hardest thing to do with the watch company, and that they require so much extra information before agreeing that a particular strap is the correct one for a given watch. Then she rolled her eyes in empathy and said that maybe she always ended up talking to "new people".
At this point, I saw that she was clearly insane. I told her that I bet their JLC salesman had the numbers in his catalog, and went over to get the info. I returned with the numbers, and she was so concerned she uncaged the senior watchmaker (who was all of twelve and wearing an IWC Big Pilot on his 6" wrist) to verify that everything was all right and she wasn't committing herself and the store to litigable exposure by letting me order a watch strap based on a mere specification book produced by the manufacture.
I am not exaggerating this one bit, apart from the imagined internal narrative.
Fortunately, the watchmaker had a secret stash of JLC straps hidden somewhere, and there was one strap that fit my watch. It's a beautifully soft ostrich strap, much like the original it came with, and I forgot how well it set off the tiny gold hands and chapter markers. I don't normally like gold, but this made me consider that a rose gold watch might not be a bad choice next time.
We then came back to the order. We still had the Damoclean watch hanging over our heads in its absence, but after wandering through the quarry for half an hour, I told them I'd make another trip next week with the other watch, and we could measure and fit it appropriately. She was as relieved as if I had taken the knife myself, and I could actually see tension leave her body as she relaxed her posture.
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