Later this month, I’ll be in Geneva to study the city’s storied watchmakers — Rolex, Patek Philippe, and others whose work has defined the craft of precision timekeeping for centuries.
I’ve long been fascinated by the art of horology: the meticulous engineering, the generational apprenticeship, and the pursuit of accuracy down to the smallest fraction of a second. In many ways, these houses represent endurance itself — institutions that have passed through wars, crises, and upheavals, yet remain tethered to a singular mission: to measure time beautifully.
But as I prepare for this trip, I find myself questioning what our modern obsession with time has cost us. The watch — once a marvel of craftsmanship — helped create a culture where every second is monetized, scheduled, and optimized. We’ve allowed the clock to pull us out of harmony with the natural cycles that once guided human life: the rise and fall of the sun, the turning of seasons, the rhythm of tides. In chasing efficiency, do we risk forgetting that longevity requires patience?
My hope in Geneva is not only to admire the elegance of a Rolex movement or a Patek complication. It is also to ask: how might we reclaim time itself? What would it mean to treat time not as something to be conquered, but as something to live with?
