The last month has been a wild ride. I knew next to nothing about horology and watchmaking until I put on my 10+ year-old Casio—first, a stunning patina, copper showing through the chrome plating. After a month, that copper patina gained its own patina: plastic. Turns out, Casio makes cases from plastic. This massively disappointed me. Capitalism had fucked me again—£50 for a watch that probably cost under a fiver to make.

So, how could I get a watch with materials worth a damn—something made to last, using real metal? That led me to Soviet watches. Now, I’m rocking a Rodina automatic on an orange NATO strap.

But I couldn’t just own a watch that demanded attention from a skilled watchmaker—I had to be the watchmaker. So I dove deeper: watching videos, downloading movement parts lists, scouring eBay auctions (recently snagged an Amphibia automatic for stupid cheap—and it’s ticking!). Then, I found this little gem:

A silver-cased WWII-era watch from SS&Co with a prestine movement. The caseback is clustered with previous watchmakers’ marks—proof of its repair history. I got this one ticking again after being a non-runner, and in a week, I’ll have proper oils to make it even better. Total cost? £6.

So, in short: I fucking love antique watches. They embody history, craftsmanship, and maybe even a quiet defiance against capitalism’s planned obsolescence.