The latest concern of the novice collector is that the watch they are about to buy is “untouched”, or “unpolished”.
Every time I’m asked if a watch I am offering for sale is “never polished”, I can’t help but roll my eyes: the question itself tells me the person asking couldn’t tell the difference between an absolutely “virgin” example and another one badly polished multiple times to save his life. Assuming anyone at this point can tell if a watch looks great or awful, clearly the concern is that even if the watch looks great, it could have been polished at something me point of its life but it’s very hard to tell. Those who don’t ask include buyers who don’t care one way or another, those who can tell by themselves, therefore don’t need to ask, and those who think they can tell, but actually have no idea.
So, if a particular watch looks 100% great under every perspective, why does it matter if it was ever polished, repaired, or restored at all? The short answer is money: theoretically, an “untouched” watch is worth more money.
But so does a restored piece, as long as it’s impossible to see, and there is no public history to show to prove that it was. So, wait: untouched mint and restored are worth the same, only as long as we don’t know?
The explanation lies in the history of the concept, and the way it has been weaponized by dealers either to maximize profits or as an efficacious sales pitch at large. Let’s dive in.
There have been times when I had to beg my payer to keep the watch’s case in its preserved conditions, and others when I chose to sell to a lower bidder because the highest one would require that I’ve the case polished.
The better and more important the watch, the more we would want to have it re-polished before presenting it to our clients. All watchmakers – as well as factory service centers – would make sure to include case re-polishing as part of a routine overhaul or repair.
The number of museum pieces I have seen that had been uselessly polished – and ruined forever – in the service center of the very manufacturers who had sold them in the first place is painfully staggering.
I will never forget a Rolex moon phase ref 8171 I sold to a beginner collector back in 1996 as the head – and only member of – the watch department of a minor auction house in Rome, Italy. The watch came out of the family of the first owner in need of a mechanical overhaul in order to work, probably the reason why it had remained virtually unworn for almost half a century.
After the adjudication, the client asked me for a recommendation as to where have it serviced. I knew that Rolex would have the case refinished in a way that only to my own – and those of a few others’ – opinion would be nothing short of destroying a watch that was already beyond perfect.
I introduced him to one Silvano Cutelli, a local watchmaker with a stellar reputation for his high professional standards, who also worked as an external service center for one of the city’s most historic Rolex ADs, Bedetti.
He was twice as expensive as most others, but his reputation justified it: I myself would not turn to him for work in my early years, as his services were too expensive for my budget.
When the new owner came back to me with the watch freshly serviced, a bit shocked for having paid about 10% of the value of the watch just for service – scaled up to today’s values it would be $ 25,000 for an overhaul, but clearly a lot less then – I almost passed out.
Silvano (or likely his son, in charge of that part of the process) had completely re-polished a flawless first patina case, not only changing forever its appearance, but also completely erasing the coronet and serial number that were engraved on the outside of the case back as per factory specifications…
To his defense, I’ll stipulate that that was just the way things were done in the industry. Any imperfection on the case of a watch, be it a ding, a dent or a scratch, was dealt with a resolute brushing under the wheel of a polishing machine, a tool generally present in every jeweler’s workshop and watchmaker alike.
People who would effectively have the skills to do any real case work did exist, but were considered a last resort solution to address structural issues that could not be resolved by a simple polishing, such as holes, cracks, bent lungs broken hinges.
I want to remember, as historical tribute to my hometown, a tiny shop in Via delle Tre Cannelle, walking distance from the Trevi Fountain in the heart of old town Rome: three generations of the same family worked in that shop, starting in the early 1900s.
The last one of them, whose father had at one point moved to Buenos Aires and where he himself was born, eventually moved back to Argentina.
Notably, his son continued in his footsteps becoming the first watch case restoration specialist of international fame: his work is legendary, and some of the most important vintage pieces that broke records in watch auctions across the globe had discretely gone through his expert hands before even surfacing the market. He still works on the same lathe his great grandfather had bought in Milano, Italy back in 1911.
Soon enough the most expert dealers and collectors started showing a special appreciation for untouched examples across the board.
When one popped up, it would likely be a candidate for their personal collection, since making the average buyer understand that that condition justified a higher asking price was still a real challenge: most of them couldn’t care less and prioritized price over condition, unable to appreciate the difference.
The tide started turning around the early 2000s, when the demand of vintage pieces started growing exponentially, inventory started to become scarce and we as dealers began the run to dig out watches sold in the past to our first customers.
Asian collectors showed interest exclusively for prime condition examples – to levels at times of quasi-insanity – but would pay prices we had never even dreamed of. At the peak of this phase, exceptional examples could fetch record prices, imperfect ones just wouldn’t sell if not for a tiny fraction if at all.
The first generation of collectors learned a very painful lesson of how their selection criteria should have not put price above all other factors, as well as they were rewarded with surprising results selling something they – and the dealers they bought them from – had no clue was a true, one in a thousand, rare gem.
The era of the “untouched example” had begun.
