15 Collector Favourite Watches I'd NEVER Buy

There is a lifetime's debt worth of watches out there I would buy in a second if I could. Incredible timepieces that I'm pretty certain are the source of everlasting happiness. But just because a watch is incredible doesn't mean I want to buy it. So contrary to popular opinion, here is a selection of watches collectors absolutely love that I will never ever part ways with my cash for. Every time you buy a piece of my merch, like this delightful humbled and blessed sweater, you help keep my spirits alive. Don't let my spirits die or they'll haunt you in your sleep. There's a link in the description, thanks. Genta Mania may be cooling down, but unlike Genta himself, it's far from dead and buried. The integrated K-Shape was at one point as popular as James Corden's OnlyFans, then soaring from obscurity into the history books as the most overrated K-Shape on planet Earth. We finally settled somewhere in between, probably at the point it should have been in the first place. Integrated watches are pretty neat. And there are a lot of them around now, since for a few years they were basically the fast track lane to success. If you were a watch brand with a ruler and a pencil, you were going to draw a blended case and bracelet. One of the watch brands most likely to take advantage of this golden opportunity was IWC. IWC have been trying to make Gerald Genta designed integrated watches a thing for years, before it was cool. They reinvented their integrated image so many times to try and make it stick, Ariana Grande sent them a cease and desist. So you'd think when Royal Oak Prices went potty that IWC would be the first on the scene to clear things up. Nope. At that point, the Ingenieur collection only featured round watches. Yes, IWC has the comedic timing of Germany's nuclear shutdown, but it gets worse because it took them so long to scramble into gear that the new and improved Ingenieur didn't even make it to market until everyone else was bored of it already. And that really takes the shine off of what is otherwise a really good watch. Ignoring the movement sourced from another IWC about half the price, it looks great, wears well, is built like a mishasmid and comes in a selection of fetching colours. So what's putting me off adding one to the collection? Well, there are so many great choices out there that the £10,100 asking price just seems like too much. A few grand more gets you an Alpine Eagle, which is a vastly superior watch in both build and, in my opinion, looks. Both seem to occupy a similar price pre-owned too, which makes the Ingie an even stickier pill to swallow. Perhaps the most impressive achievement in the Rolex catalogue, second to the avatar rivalling CGI, is its most complex watch, the Sky-Dweller. Not only does it possess the ability to keep the date in check for every month but February, which can get a little unruly, especially in leap years, but it's also found a way to contain that mechanism that's remarkably intuitive. It's a display of Rolex at its best, presenting a level of thinking that's more than just a pretty dial. Rather than add a bunch of unsightly pushes to adjust the various displays, it's all done through the crown, with a twist of the ring command bezel selecting the function the crown gets to operate. Inspired by the air vents on a Mazda Miata, maybe. The ring command system not only allows the case to remain as nipple free as Action Man, it even allows the addition of the GMT ring in the dialed centre that's responsible for the Sky-Dweller moniker. I'm not sure an annual calendar would be a pilot's first request, but the dual time zone display means EasyJet can pinpoint to the second how much they've missed their landing slot by. Funnily enough, it's that GMT display that makes the Sky-Dweller one for the no thank you pile for me. You'd think the 42mm size would be the main deterrent, but actually it wears rather well on my distinctly average wrist. There's just something about the off-centre sub-dial ring that looks like it rendered in the wrong place. I know the outer track is accommodating the cleverly sneaky month indicator in red, but I think the GMT ring would have been better out there with the month placed perhaps more in board. Either way, as it stands, the Mini-Me GMT isn't for me. It goes without saying that the Omega Speedmaster Moonwatch is one of the most iconic wristwatches ever made. You've heard the story a million times before about how Neil Armstrong used his Moonwatch as a knuckle-duster to beat down the demon hordes that emerged from a portal to hell, only for the watch to get sucked in as the demons retreated to turn up again in 2047 on the Ghost Ship Event Horizon. I think that's canon. We'd have to ask Tom Hanks. I can't think of a single watch that has as big a backstory as this one. The international measure of success is universally understood to be a cameo on The Simpsons, and although, due to copyright reasons, the actual watch couldn't be displayed, it was incredibly accurately portrayed by employee of the month, Inanimate Carbon Rod. I've owned Moonwatches in the past and I will likely own one again, whether in new or old guise. The one I can confidently tell you I will never own, however, is the white dial variation of this master of speed. Black dial, sure, maybe even the dark blue one of the first Omega in space, but white? No. I'm unusual in my preference for the black dial Daytona over the lighter white, and that preference stays true for the Speedmaster as well. White dial watches, for me, have their place typically in thinner dressier pieces, but in a chunky sports chronograph it feels a bit too premium. Like McDonald's serving coffee that's way too hot, but in a bone china tea set. An absolute fan favourite of the entry-level collector and experienced enthusiast both is the Hamilton Khaki Field, and I can see why. Having served the armed forces since 1914, Hamilton Field watches are built to last, as robust and practical today as they have ever been. Whilst they're hardly a frontline mainstay these days, the collection continues on in fine form for watch enthusiasts to cosplay their favourite American five-star general, or Jessica Chastain. As watches go, it is one. The time is clear and legible, the operation smooth and effective, the comfort, well, comfortable. And there's a wealth of colours to choose from, like military green, military black, military white, and blue. Quartz, mechanical, big, small, cheap or cheaper, the Hamilton Khaki Field watch really is all things to all people. Except, apparently, me. Look, I get why people like it. It's not an unattractive watch, it's just boring. So boring, if it were a date night, it would be watching paint dry and chill. It also gives me prepper vibes. No, worse. EDC vibes. You know, everyday carry, where it's essential to have a notepad and lockknife wherever you go in case you need to subdue an assailant and then interview them about it after. I think what I'm trying to say is that, for me, the Khaki Field is trying way too hard to not be trying hard. It's the kind of watch that would be referred to as, oh, this old thing. Maybe I'm right, or maybe it says more about me and my need for validation. I feel like I'm in an increasing minority when I say this, but I actually like the Breitling Navitimer. Yes, they look like they smell of old leather and midlife crisis, but to me, in the right configuration, they're a classic layout that sits comfortably alongside watches like the Speedmaster for iconic aesthetics. It's a clever idea, too, beyond just sticking a tachymeter around a chronograph scale like all the others did. We don't use slide rulers anymore because chat GPT can get it wrong for us. However, there's still something rather remarkable about a mechanical solution to computing. If Instagram ever goes down and you find yourself wanting for something to do on the throne, try doom scrolling a slide rule instead. The amount of things you can calculate on one isn't just interesting from a historical perspective. It's actually also kind of rewarding. Remember the feeling of satisfaction from doing something productive. The Navitimer lets you have that satisfaction on the go. In the days before the Internet, when you were out and about and there was no shampoo bottle to read, a Breitling Navitimer was the perfect way to pass time on the pooper. Hell, you could even contextualize it by timing the intervals between loads and calculating the hourly drop rate. But I will never buy one. No, sir. No, thank you. All because of one man, John Joseph Travolta. You see, Mr. Travolta is a strange man and a name I would not at all be surprised to appear on a list, a lifetime achievement list. I mean, he has a Boeing 707 in his garden and his garden is also an airport. He was also a Breitling ambassador for the longest time and closely associated with the Navitimer. I don't like the expression giving me the ick, but in this instance, I'll allow it. Big up. Remember that? To all my amazing Patreons, thank you for accommodating my unhealthy watch habits with your ongoing reassurance. At this point, I'm not exactly sure who's enabling who. If you would like to join the fray, you'll find a link in the description below. Thank you. Seiko makes some incredible watches for prices scarcely believable in this market, even if some disgruntled Reddit collector still believe they should be locked in at prices from 1994. The Prospex Alpinist is one of those watches. Six hundred and ninety pounds of green and gold spec list perfection. If 200 meters of water resistance, self-changing date and the 70 hour caliber 6R35 weren't enough for you, then how about an inner rotating compass bezel also with minute markers for timing things that will give you literally hours of fun when you're out and about with no shampoo bottle to read? If there were Lifetime Achievement Awards for watches most likely to be suggested as the ideal first buy, the Alpinist would be fighting for the win. Whether old or young, rich or poor, this particular gem of the Prospex collection can find a well earned home. Except not in my house, because to be honest, I think it's as good looking as Trenchfoot. Is it trying to be an explorer's watch or the church clock? If the Tag Heuer link had a baby with a Christmas sweater, this is what you'd get. It's a very good watch, but I'm sorry, I don't know whether I should read the time from it or open it up to see if there's a chocolate inside. Not to mention the Cyclops date magnifying window. It's bad enough when Rolex does it, but here it looks like a drop of cement from an Airfix kit. I'm either going to pick it off or dissolve it in solvent. One of the most underrated watchmakers in the entire biz is Piaget, makers of some of the thinnest watches in the world since the 1950s. Often considered more of a jewellery brand, like Chopard, Piaget actually got its start in the making of high quality watches, like Chopard. The Piaget Polo Date is one of those watches, an understated reimagining of the 1970s original. Don't mistake my intentions here, I'm not talking about the like for like Polo 79, rather the more Aquanaut-esque date model in black, blue or green. It's actually a similar price to that IWC Ingenieur we saw earlier, albeit a lot more original and a lot better built. It's a properly luxurious watch, this one, as is emphasised by the suite of skeleton, gem set and complicated variations available. I'm focusing just on the date only model though, which may be the perfect stealth wealth luxury sports watch. It's 100m water resistant, less than a centimetre thick, robustly built, stunningly executed and packing a genuine manufacture calibre, the calibre 1110P. When I say genuine manufacture calibre, I mean genuinely made by group movement supplier Val Fleurier, who also deliver variations of this calibre to Vacheron, Cartier, Panerai and IWC. It's a pretty great watch, but despite that, it's just not quite speaking to me. I actually don't even know why. It's doing so much so well, but still I'm just not jiving with it. For closure, let's just say it's because of the little P on the end of the second hand. No one likes the tip of a little P. When the Black Bay Chrono first came out, I was almost certain I was going to get one. As a more refined iteration of the original heritage chronograph of 2010 that finally got Tudor back on track, he does everything anyone who's not on the Daytona waitlist could ever hope or dream of in a chronograph watch. Number one, it's not too broad, sitting comfortably at 41mm across. Number two, it's a slick looking thing, the Breitling borrowed by subdial layout neatly balanced across left to right. And number three, it's a Rolex made chronograph watch for less than an Omega Seamaster, let alone Speedmaster. In this day and age of everything starting at expensive and only getting more so, that's a breath of fresh Swiss mountain air. It's taken a few goes around the drawing board to get it exactly nailed, but I think they're pretty much there with it now. It's not too much of a pastiche patty, but then it's not trying to be the modern glossy status symbol the Daytona is either. It occupies the sweet spot right in the middle, like the strawberry stripe in a Neapolitan ice cream. Seems like the ideal watch for me, a self-confessed chronograph lover, but I'll never get one. Why? Because it feels like giving up. I have my name down for a steel Daytona and I will never get one. I know it. But as soon as I buy that Tudor, it's just a done deal. I'll have lost all hope. It'll be game over, man. Are there any other watches as elegant, stylish, and timeless as a Cartier Santos that can offer an air of wealth unmatched for the price? I do not in all good conscience believe there is. It breaks all the rules for what should be acceptable in a wristwatch, with a square case held together by obviously apparent screws and markers printed in numerals so Roman they should be an Oscar-winning fugitive of the state of California. Yet it works, and works well. You can dress it up in Dumont form with sleeker curves and more negative space, or you can sportify it with a chunkier case and vivid sunburst colours. It looks as good in cold November rain as it does in the summertime when the weather is fine. It's the perfect partner for any event where ladies wear dead animals on their heads. Is it the perfect partner for me? I'd like it if it was. But it's not. It's not you, Santos. It's me. I'm not elegant enough to wear such a thing and get away with it. Just like how some people look so chill in boat shoes and I just look like Jeremy Clarkson. They say the shoes maketh the man. In this case, the man definitely letteth downeth the watch. I know what you're thinking. But Andrew, you're such a suave debonair gentleman who is most certainly in the running for the next James Bond, but that's just not how I feel. I've seen enough face-for-radio comments on here to know I can't pull it off. The Monaco Grand Prix may be the most boring F1 race of the calendar, but if there's even a sniff of its departure, I'll be up in arms faster than a Texan octopus. The same could be said of Tag Heuer's namesake watch collection, a lumpen attempt to get eyeballs laid on Heuer's 1969 chronomatic chronograph calibre. It's big. It's ugly. But it's one of my favourites. And I'll never own one. So the story goes, the iconic square case was discovered in a catalogue from case supplier Picares and was the perfect candidate to show off the automatic functionality of the chronomatic. The crown was famously inverted to the left-hand side to remind owners it didn't need winding, since it was taking care of all that by itself. The squareness offered nothing in terms of performance, but what it did do was catch the eye of prop master Don Nunley, who whipped it onto Steve McQueen's wrist for the 1971 film Le Mans. It looked like a watch racing drivers wore was the thinking, and I agree with that. Despite being as aerodynamic as the Alpine A525, it looked fast. I'm not sure anyone has ever described me as looking fast. They've said, you ain't that fast, but that's not quite the same thing. I don't think I'm as effortlessly speedy as Stevie McQueen or his electric Pixar doppelganger, so for me the Tag Heuer Monaco belongs on my wrist as much as I do in the place it's named after. This next watch is a little different because I actually owned it already, but never again. It's a fine watch with a desirable complication, but for me it's just a bug snack away from perfection. Believe it or not, but the Rolex GMT Master was once a more desirable watch than the Daytona Chronograph, since crypto bros hadn't been invented back then. Supersonic legend Chuck Yeager wore one, and that set up a cascade of test pilots and astronauts who wanted to wear one too, and so the GMT Master became as much a part of the American aeronautical program as Teflon and Tang. The iconic red and blue colour scheme borrowed from Pan Am has, despite challenges in rendering it in two-tone ceramic, been as much a part of the collection as the complication itself, making it even today one of the most desirable models in the Rolex catalogue. Would I have one? Not to keep, no. As I said, I already had one, at least a black bezel version, and one of my biggest peeves with it was the stumpy lugs. The Submariner at the time had the same case shape before being updated to the current slimmer lug design, but still to this day the GMT Master retains those bluff buttresses at all four corners. To me, it makes the watch too lumpy for the otherwise timeless design. Maybe when Rolex updates the case, I'll consider not being able to buy one of those either. Ever since Daniel Craig emerged from the sea packing that thick beast, I've fancied an Omega Planet Ocean for myself. Based on the original Seamaster 300 from 1957 with a round of steroids thrown in, the 600m water resistant dive watch is such an eye catcher, it can even be mistaken for a Rolex by someone who supposedly works for an intelligence agency. It's never been the most elegant wear, the Planet Ocean. The clue's in the name, it wears about as well as a small planet, but somehow it gets away with it because no one wants to admit being less manly than a campy action hero. The design has stood the test of time well, somehow seeming older than Craig's first appearance in 2006 without feeling weird and dated like the Bond films pre-Daniel. It's a bit posh without being flashy, like treating yourself to afternoon tea at Claridge's without actually staying the night. I especially like some of the crisp modern updates it's had in orange, blue and even beige. Although I still don't really understand what the whole liquid metal bezel business is all about. Maybe you can explain it to me in the comments. I tipped a Planet Ocean over once and nothing poured out so I'm guessing the liquid bit isn't what I thought it was. It seems like the kind of watch an average bloke can wear without feeling self-conscious. The kind of bloke like Jeremy Clarkson, again. In fact, he has one. He's had it for ages. That might be why I don't. I'll get a farm first. One of the simplest, most effective ways to show your support for these videos is to make sure you're subscribed and to leave a little like and a little comment on the way as well. Algorithms, recommendation engines and all that good stuff love it and so do I. Thank you. One of my all-time favourite chronograph designs is the Chronomaster by Zenith, perhaps better known as the El Primero. Whilst the El Primero was actually the caliber, it's also become synonymous with the watch and the kind of people who like to tell you that Big Ben is actually the bell. It's not the only bell in that particular conversation. If I were to design a chronograph watch from scratch and pretend it was my own invention, it would look like an El Primero. And I like my El Primeros like I like desserts represented on film, in black and white and with a generous helping of cream. The date placement isn't my favourite but I'm willing to forgive it since it's colour matched and pretty well indistinguishable. What I do like is the overall use of the dial space, which feels well occupied without being overwhelming. Unfortunately, the same can't be said for my wife's approach to wardrobe storage. The 38mm case couldn't be any better judged and of course there's that calibre in there too, whose build quality makes the pyramids look like a Tornado Alley campsite. I really would like one of these but I've convinced myself not to since I just don't I'd ever be able to sell it should my eyes wander elsewhere. The depreciation is alarmingly steep and even second hand, getting one moved on wouldn't be the work of a moment. Maybe one day when I can commit to it long term but for right now, I'll just enjoy it from afar. Once upon a rather recently, the Tissot PRX was basically default. It was the half-life crowbar of watches, so built into the ethos of collecting that it was hard to imagine a watchbox without one. Since the original dynamic duo in quartz and mechanical first hit the scene, a wealth of other varieties has come to join them, including teeny little 25mm models and even one in forged carbon fibre. I still see them on wrists a lot in this place outside of the internet called the world wide, um, world, and the people wearing them also appear to be wearing these mouth contortions I believe are called smiles? So they seem to be doing the trick by at least not making their owners more unhappy than they already are. And isn't that the goal in life? I think the PRX was one of the true trendsetters in the democratisation of luxury watches, a major group brand willing to bring a level of design and specification at an affordable price, instead of doing what usually happens and just making it a bit ugly so it doesn't undermine the more expensive stuff. No, the PRX was a good watch and many people can appreciate that. For me though, it seems like things have moved on a bit and left the PRX behind. The Christopher Ward 12 is a bit more expensive but leagues ahead in quality, not to mention many other affordable microbrand options in and around the same price. They all lack the star power of Swiss Tissot heritage, but is that really the same draw it used to be? People seem happier than ever to seek out the best opportunity over trusting brand blindly and I don't think the PRX has adapted much to mitigate that. I still think I'd recommend it to someone looking for one nice watch that looks like a Royal Oak, but to anyone wanting to make it part of a collection, I think my recommendations have moved on. The last watch that's unbelievably popular that I refuse to buy is one that surprised even me. The Daytona is of course one of the most prized sports watches available today and the Paul Newman 6239 is the absolute cream of the cream, which I think means that crusty layer you get on top when you forget to put the lid back on. On paper and in pictures, the Paul Newman, with its slightly awkward dial layout and splash of colour, is the be all and end all of any watch collection. But I'll cut to the chase, it's not the price that's a hard turn off for me. Well, it is, but if it wasn't, it still wouldn't be, if that makes sense. It's the size. It's tiny. I have a 37mm watch. Well, goodness me, I have a 36mm watch too. Yet the 37mm Paul Newman seems to wear so small it's better to measure it in plank lengths. It looked so impossibly tiny on my wrist I thought for a moment it was my eyes that were wrong. But no, that's what it looks like. Small as a sea monkey's car keys. Why don't you let me know what watches you love but you'd never buy down in the comments below. And I'll see you next time.