The Journey Ahead

Because the Business Was Never Really About Watches

Preface

When I began writing Journey into the Unknown, I thought I was simply recording experiences. Some were exciting, others frustrating. A few were expensive lessons, while others restored my faith in people. At first, the stories seemed to revolve around watches—the thrill of finding the right piece, the disappointment of a deal gone wrong, the satisfaction of discovering an honest seller. Looking back now, I realize they were never really about watches at all. They were about trust, intuition, mistakes, and the curious psychology that surrounds buying and selling objects that, if we're being honest, nobody truly needs.

As the months passed, something unexpected happened. The stories stopped being a record of what had happened and gradually became part of the way I approached every new experience. I became better at recognizing scammers before they recognized me as a potential victim. I found remarkable watches, often from equally remarkable people. I sold some pieces, kept others, and discovered that every transaction left behind something more valuable than another addition to the collection. Every encounter, whether successful or disappointing, quietly added another lesson to a much larger education.

That education slowly changed the questions I found myself asking.

Every collector begins with the same concerns. How do I buy the right watch? Before long, experience complicates the picture. How do I avoid being scammed? How do I know whom to trust? Eventually, for a small number of us, another question begins to emerge—not suddenly, but almost imperceptibly, until one day it refuses to leave. Could I do this myself?

At first, the idea seemed almost absurd. Why would anyone willingly enter a business where trust is far more valuable than inventory, where a reputation can take years to build and only moments to lose? The more I learned about this world, the less glamorous it appeared. Yet perhaps that was precisely what drew me toward it. After years spent buying watches, studying references, writing about my experiences, meeting extraordinary collectors, making mistakes, and occasionally getting things wonderfully right, I found myself reflecting on a deceptively simple question: Why would anyone choose to become a watch dealer?

Most people assume the answer is obvious. Because you love watches. Because you want access to better prices. Because there is money to be made. Those may all be perfectly reasonable motivations, but they were never mine. Somewhere along the way, I realized that collecting alone was no longer enough. I still enjoy discovering a beautiful watch, appreciating thoughtful engineering, or finding an overlooked reference at exactly the right moment. But I also realized that I wanted to contribute to the hobby that had already given me so much.

There are many ways to make that contribution. Some people restore vintage timepieces. Some dedicate themselves to the craft of watchmaking. Others teach, photograph, write, or preserve knowledge for future collectors. A few decide to become dealers—not because they enjoy selling watches, but because they find genuine satisfaction in helping someone else discover their watch: the watch that marks an achievement, celebrates a milestone, or quietly accompanies its owner through decades of life. That, I have come to believe, is an entirely different calling.

This series is not intended to be another guide on how to make money selling watches. There are already excellent books, videos, and articles devoted to that subject, and I doubt I could improve upon them. Instead, I want to explore something less tangible but, in my opinion, far more important: what it means to build a business that deserves to exist.

Together, we'll talk about websites and payment processors, photography and customer service, taxes and insurance, difficult conversations, unexpected setbacks, and the countless decisions that quietly shape a reputation long before the first watch ever changes hands. Yet none of those subjects is really the destination. They are simply different ways of exploring the same fundamental question: Why should someone trust you with something they value?

Perhaps, by the time we reach the end of this journey, we'll discover that the answer was never hidden inside the watches at all.

Because, in the end, the business was never really about watches.