Earlier this week, on a blistering day in Los Angeles, I walked into an OMEGA boutique outfitted unlike any other. Just off the sun-soaked main floor was a staircase leading to an exhibition on the second floor. It was dark, lounge-y—the kind of spot where you could imagine James Bond sinking into a sofa and sipping on a Vesper martini. And along the walls were glass display cases housing ephemera from 007’s onscreen career.
The miniature bombs released from Bond’s Aston Martin DB5 in No Time to Die were pretty damn cool. His passport and MI6 ID badge, too. But the thing I kept coming back to was across the proverbial aisle, in the section devoted to the goodies and gadgets used by Bond’s longtime nemesis, the nefarious global organisation known as Spectre. It was Blofeld’s bionic eye. I know it’s not a real bionic eye. But in that space, surrounded by suited-up watch fans, I wanted to believe it was. Because mini bombs are neat, but if you ask me, bionic eyes win every single time.
It was right around then that I realised my allegiances might lie with the wrong side. That suspicion was confirmed when I got a look at the pair of watches that debuted alongside this event. Both are takes on Bond’s favourite watch, the Seamaster 300m. Each is 42mm in diameter, rated to 300 metres of water resistance (but of course), powered by the self-winding 8806 movement, and comes housed in a stainless steel case with a mesh bracelet.
But while one is dedicated to the man himself—its blue aluminium dial finished with that recognisable “wave” pattern and “007” emblazoned on the rotor visible through the exhibition case back—the other is an homage to his adversaries. The Spectre edition comes with a grained black dial and the Spectre octopus on the flip side. They are both, without a doubt, great watches. But the Spectre one stole my (possibly corrupted) heart.
It’s that grained finish, which extends from the dial onto the bezel. The inspiration may be sinister, but the effect is just plain stylish. It’s the sort of watch that, while robust and sporty, would look quite at home under the cuff of a perfectly pressed white shirt (which, naturally, would be situated under the cuff of an expertly tailored tux). You could wear it to, say, a state dinner. Or maybe a meeting with an important but financially compromised politician.
Only you, with Spectre’s tentacled logo pressed against your wrist, would have any idea that there’s something lurking beneath the surface.
