A snake, delicately engraved in 18-carat red gold—a material revered in Chinese culture for its symbolisation of power, wealth, and happiness—coils gracefully around the branch of a Gingko tree. Set against an aventurine glass dial, a nocturnal theatre unfolds, where luminous constellations dance around a grand mother-of-pearl moon. The scene feels suspended, as if time has loosened its grip, much like the slow uncoiling of the snake towards the observer.
And yet, it is the snake’s gaze that holds you. Calm, untroubled, its eyes neither condemn nor forgive. They simply are. No malice lingers, no cunning plans slither. Instead, they offer a reflection—of peace, of introspection, of something that cannot quite be named. What do you see in those eyes? Or, perhaps, what do they see in you?
From front to back, darkness is a ubiquity that dominates both planes of the case. Through the alchemy of Grand Feu enamel, glass and metal fuse to form a rich, lustrous black surface—polished to a depth that feels endless. It carries an air of decadence akin to that of lacquerwork used in ancient China, which made objects feel permanent and sacred.
Out of this deep darkness unfurls a wreath of golden clouds—and from that gilded haze, a fierce snake, its fangs bared in defiance. There is no restraint, no artifice—only unbridled fervour. Eighty hours were poured into carving this snake. Take another look at the watch, do you see only a snake? Or do you notice the weight of time, etched into every scale, every fang, and every curve?
At first glance, the watch looks unassuming. Elegant, yes, but lacking the bold allure of its counterparts. Yet, there’s beauty in this restrain, an insistence on not showing its cards all at once. In Chinese culture, red is the pulse of life itself—the sun in the sky, the flow of blood, the warmth of fire. Gold, in contrast, carries the weight of good fortune, the shimmer of prosperity. Together, red and gold meet on the dial, not in a clash but in a union, creating a (quiet) explosion of decadence.
The story deepens once you turn over the watch. An 18-carat 5N gold snake takes the form of an oscillating mass, flush against your skin. As you move, it moves with you, slithering silently. Where is it heading, this golden serpent? Towards wealth, perhaps? Success? Or is it endlessly chasing its own tail, caught in the eternal futility of wanting what can never be held?
If the Portofino Automatic Moon Phase 37 Year of the Snake was a study in restraint, Dior’s Grand Soir Year of the Snake is a masterclass in opulence. Set against a dreamy mother-of-pearl dial adorned with a Toile de Jouy Pattern, a beautiful opaline snake outlined in rose gold emerges from a canopy of leaves. In its wake, flowers shimmer from transformation, their petals shifting from iridescent to golden. Even butterflies fall to this Midas-like touch—their bodies infected with golden blight from antennae to tail.
But the snake is not content being contained within the confines of the dial. Its influence extends outwards, claiming even the watch itself. Stainless steel may construct the case, but the bezel has been graced by rose gold, encrusted with 52 brilliant-cut diamonds along its circumference. Here, the serpent slithers between worlds of boundless ambition and the almost-dangerous power of beauty. And as you trace its path, only questions arise: Where does ambition end and excess begin? Or does the snake know something that we don’t—that boundaries, like time itself, are nothing more than illusions?
