Letter from the Editorial and Creative Director: The Value of Time
From the Spring / Summer 2015 Book For Men
When was the last time you had something repaired? Actually, when was the last time you owned something that could be repaired? Not too long ago repairing and refurbishing were part of the normal lifecycle of ownership. Now, when something breaks, it’s a sign that it’s time to upgrade to the new model. Planned obsolescence. They don’t make them like they used to. Do I sound like enough of an old man?
As I strive to populate my life with fine things — a quest to combat the idea that possessions are disposable and replaceable — I’m finding more opportunities to repair and refurbish my belongings. Just recently I had a watchmaker restore my grandfather’s clock, an elegant wood wall clock with a white face and simple Roman numerals. It was likely no more exclusive than a smartphone is now; the Timex of its day. It certainly isn’t worth as much on the open market as the refurbishment cost, but it was too great a shame to leave it in disrepair when it had been functioning for nearly a hundred years. Now it adorns the wall in my den. The weekly winding of its eight-day movement and its rhythmic tick-tock serve as constant reminders of both my grandfather and the fact that well-made things can last forever, with a little help.
But there’s a flip side to this appreciation of quality. There’s an even greater threat than disrepair, and that’s when objects become too precious to be enjoyed. Like the child who refuses to read his comic book for fear of decreasing its “value,” I’m not immune to this. The recent uptick in the collector market for everything from vintage watches to classic cars tempts me to relegate these things to the care of winders and garages, as opposed to wrists and roads.
No doubt a big part of worrying about valuation comes from having to work hard to buy nice things in the first place. One does, typically, value things more when one has to work for them, but this notion that the signs of use somehow demean a product’s future value irks me. Why should signs of use have me feeling that I’m throwing money away by enjoying something in the way it is meant to be enjoyed?
Of course the true value of a fine pair of shoes, or an automobile you love to drive, is in using them for what they were originally intended. My watches will never be LNIB (like new in box) and that rare, collectible sports car is farther from showroom condition with each passing kilometre. The true test of quality isn’t how long they can retain value, it’s how valuable they become to me when I enjoy them.
Some things have timeless style and utility. The patinas they take on with age become testaments to their owner’s love for them. And tells the story of our time here. Some such things are even in this book.
