Historic rarities from A. Lange & Söhne, Breguet, Habring2, Raymond Weil, and Vacheron Constantin that reveal top-level finishing.
Neither the Seiko 5 nor the TAG Heuer F1 handed to Callum in his teenage years managed to spark a fire.
What actually pulled him in wasn’t a physical watch at all. It was the rabbit hole, which many collectors know all too well.
It started innocently enough in 2019 with a black Rolex GMT, bought for S$11,000. Then came the inevitable inquiries from family members seeking advice, each question nudging him a little deeper into the vortex. By the time Covid-19 brought the world to a standstill, Callum was already in too deep.
It was a strange, feverish epoch to fall in love with horology. Fueled by the bravado of the crypto boom and Covid lockdown, the market went wild. “Blue dials and steel watches from the big houses were commanding absurd premiums,” recalls Callum, who works in manufacturing.
Nonetheless, he soldiered on, acquiring less elusive pieces that caught his eye: a Patek Philippe 5396G annual calendar, a Rolex Cellini Moonphase 50535 featuring an enamel and meteorite dial, a Jaeger-LeCoultre Master Control Chronograph, a titanium Tudor Pelagos, and several other Tudors.
Yet the true mark of his fever was the chase. Finding an Omega CK 859 meant cold-calling virtually every retailer on the planet until he finally tracked one down, sitting silently in an authorized display case in Santa Clara, California. It was a victory, sure, but more than that, it was a mirror: Callum was hooked on the poetry of steel complications.
Next came the Holy Trinity—the unwritten rite of passage for every serious collector. Rather than taking the obvious paths, he pieced together a trilogy of steel: a Code 11.59 by Audemars Piguet with a “Bleu nuit, Nuage 50” stamped dial, a Patek Philippe 5212A Weekly Calendar, and a Vacheron Constantin Historiques Triple Calendar.
Hours spent admiring these movements slowly crystallized a singular realization: his heart belonged to the manual-winding bicompax chronograph.
There is an intimacy to a manual-wind watch that automatic movements simply cannot replicate. You have to feed it yourself, participate in its survival.
Take his Vacheron Constantin Historiques Cornes de Vache 1955, acquired by sheer serendipity during a walk past the ION Orchard Singapore boutique on his birthday. Or his Habring² Doppel38, which brandishes a special sector dial that marks the 10th anniversary of Hong Kong’s A Watch Company. Limited to a whisper-thin run of just ten pieces worldwide, this split-seconds chronograph flies under the radar as an exquisitely finished complication from one of the industry’s most underrated independent watchmakers.
Beside it sits the dramatic, sweeping architecture of an A. Lange & Söhne 1815 Flyback Chronograph, though Callum is quick to point toward a recently released Raymond Weil “The Fifty” Millesime Chronograph as proof that brilliance isn’t reserved exclusively for the traditional heavyweights. His Breguet Classique Rattrapante Ref. 5947BB too embodies venerable heritage and immaculate finishing.
“I wanted ‘The Fifty’ because it has a legendary Valjoux movement, and the Breguet because of its fabled Lemania caliber.”
Callum had to enlist the help of Breguet HQ just to locate and acquire this 21-year-old rarity.
“They’re all white metals, all manual-winding bicompax,” he says, looking past the badges on the dials. “For me, it’s about what happens on the other side—the depth and execution of the finishing through the open caseback.”
In a watch scene often blinded by market values, waitlists, and Instagram flexes, Callum’s collection turns the camera away from hype culture and back toward the enchanting tale of mechanical timekeeping.
“If you budget wisely,” he offers as parting advice, “you’ll eventually be able to acquire your grails.”
