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A month ago, I lost my watch. I have yet to recover it, though I remain reasonably confident watches, as a rule, do not dissolve into thin air. That fills me with hope it may someday return, but in the meantime, I require another means of timekeeping.
Replacing my watch should be a straightforward undertaking. It has turned out to be anything but. Granted, I am quite particular about the piece that will gild my wrist. So much I find is either too baroque or too plain. Too chunky or too dainty. Out of the budget or scammily cheap. The watch must be silver or two-toned. It needs a leather band, not a metal strap, and preferably full grain. I may need to purchase that new. The old probably crusted away years ago because the leather was not duly cared for.
“Years ago,” because a vintage watch is the kind I need. When phones began telling time, watches were banished to become statement pieces. As a result, modern watches ballooned into caricatures of their forebears. A century ago, a man’s watch had a standard diameter of 28 to 32 millimeters. Today, one sits around an average of 42 mm. To see this inflation, compare John F. Kennedy’s watch to his son’s.
At 46 mm, John F. Kennedy Jr.’s watch — a stainless-steel Timex, more modest than his father’s gold Rolex, but still larger — signaled the middle-class consumer boom of the 1990s, much like the era’s “super-sized” food at McDonald’s. This is also the period American brands, like Levi’s, started shipping manufacturing overseas. Everything could be bought at more bulk for a smaller cost, though not as high quality.
Since then, the size of men’s watches has not dropped. That is unfortunate. It is the midcentury restraint of the elder Kenndy’s watches that contributes to their timeless — and decisively anti-consumerist, anti-exhibitionist — appeal. In his day, watches were being made for mountain climbing, deep sea diving and space exploration as much as for dinner parties and day-to-day use. Hence, the need for tasteful restraint. The watch did not need to announce its arrival. It was clemently served its purpose.
This purposiveness and restraint should set the stage for more modest watches’ return among members of Generation Z. These qualities are inextricably tied to the offline aesthetic already returning in vinyl records and digital cameras. My bet is the useful watch is on the verge of a similar revival. The charm of an offline world has propelled other legacy brands and items back to relevance. Ralph Lauren, for example, is undergoing a Gen Z renaissance. The Wall Street Journal reported that eBay searches for vintage Ralph Lauren jumped up 250% in November 2025 compared to one year prior. It could be due to the brand’s “rich textures,” which contrasts the smoothness of phone screens.
Surfing the web once served as a symbol of affluence. Now, it constitutes the exact opposite. The rarer leisure time is leisure time spent off the net. That’s a healthier sort of leisure, anyway. In his book “Leisure: The Basis of Culture,” German philosopher Josef Pieper argued culture — religion, philosophy, art, wonder — can only come out of silence.
My computer and my phone, my present timekeeping substitutes, are noisy and attention-seeking. Indeed, I have found great benefits to wearing a watch. The gadget allows me to set aside my phone and exponentially increases my reading.
That’s why I’ve re-entered the watch market. If you know a watch guy or happen to be aware of just the kind I seek, contact me. Unfortunately, IDS employees may not accept gifts.
Eric Cannon (he/him) is a sophomore studying philosophy and political science and currently serves as a member of IU Student Government. You can contact him about watches at ericcann@iu.edu.
