We meet in a workshop in Le Sentier, in the Vallée de Joux, on a morning cold enough that the windows have frosted on the interior. There are movements on every surface — some complete, some not, most in states that suggest interrupted thinking rather than abandoned work. The watchmaker, who has asked that I not use his name, has been making watches here for nineteen years. He has produced, in that time, approximately forty watches. He does not appear to find this number small.
The Hour: Nineteen years, forty watches. By the standards of the industry, this is an extraordinary rate of non-production.
The Watchmaker: It is an accurate rate of production. I make each watch in the time it takes to make it properly. I could produce more if I were willing to make different watches. I am not.
TH: What does "properly" mean to you, specifically?
WM: It means that every decision is made once and not revisited because the deadline is arriving. I have colleagues who have learned to work at speed. They are very skilled. Their watches are not as good as they would be if they had more time, and everyone involved knows this and has agreed to it. I have not agreed to it.
TH: The business case for this approach is, let us say, non-obvious.
WM: The business case is that I am still here after nineteen years. I have no investors to satisfy. I have no retail network requiring stock. I have customers who wait two to four years for a watch and who have, in that time, considered carefully whether they want what I make. They arrive at the end of the wait with a clarity of desire that is, for me, the best possible condition in which to deliver the work.
TH: Is there a type of person who buys your watches?
WM: There are several. The one I find most interesting is the collector who already owns everything significant and has arrived, through exhaustion of the available catalogue, at the conclusion that what they actually want is something made by a person rather than a company. This person understands immediately what they are acquiring and asks very few questions. The questions they do ask are technical and deserve proper answers.
TH: And the ones who don't understand?
WM: They don't buy from me. This is not a policy. It is simply what happens when I spend an hour explaining the movement and the person's eyes move to the case.
TH: You mentioned that you've declined acquisition approaches.
WM: Several. The conversations are always interesting and always end in the same place. The acquiring party wants what I make and wants it to be made in larger quantities. These two desires are, in my specific case, incompatible. The watches I make are the way they are because I make them. If someone else made them — even someone highly skilled — they would be different watches. Not worse, necessarily. But different. I am selling the difference.
TH: What is the difference, exactly?
WM: (long pause) The difference is that I am in this room, in this cold, looking at this movement, and I am unhappy with something I cannot yet name. And I will stay unhappy with it until I find the name and fix the thing. That is the difference.