Good morning {{first_name|Reader}}.

Here's something I've been wanting to say for a while, and the only way to say it is plainly.

I respect a lot of watches. I only like a few.

There's a difference between those two words, and most of the watch world is built on pretending there isn't. I've been thinking about that a lot lately, and about what it means for what I'm trying to build here.

Watch media has spent the last decade or more pretending respect and like are the same word. Every release gets similar treatment. Every microbrand gets called innovative. Every limited edition is a must-have. Every new dial color is a reason to upgrade. The whole machine runs on manufactured enthusiasm, and many of the people downstream of it end up worse off for it.

A big reason I started Own The Watch was to have a place where we don't do that.

When I say I only like a handful of watches, I mean it. We're talking two or three. Not because I haven't seen the others. Not because I don't appreciate the craftsmanship that goes into a Lange or the design language of a Royal Oak or the historical weight of a Speedmaster. I do appreciate them. Deeply. But appreciate and like are not the same.

I like watches I would actually wear. Watches I have a personal connection to. Watches that mean something specific to my life, not watches that signal something to a scrolling audience. This is probably a reason I'm awful as a "watch creator" and my Instagram-game stinks.

I'd rather wear one watch every day than own twenty that sit in a case.

I mean that literally. A watch you wear every day becomes part of your life. The scratches mean something. The way the bracelet has shaped to your wrist means something. When you finally take it off years later, you're taking off a piece of your own history.

I know which one I'm trying to build.

Which is why I'm about to do something that probably looks risky for someone trying to grow a watch publication.

There are a lot of experts in this space, and most of them have already claimed their reference. There's the Speedmaster guys. There's the Submariner guys. There's the Royal Oak guys. Entire careers and online personas built on going deep on one iconic watch.

The Rolex Explorer II does not have its expert.

It's a watch I've been chasing since I was a teenager. It's the watch on my wrist right now. Built for cave explorers, of all things, but adopted by polar expeditions, Public Affairs Paratroopers, and people who actually use a watch as a tool. It's the most quietly capable watch Rolex makes, and it's the one I'd argue belongs on more wrists than any of its loud cousins. The smart pick, the quiet pick, the watch the Submariner crowd will discover ten years in and wish they'd bought first.

So that's the lane I'm taking.

Over the next few weeks, you're going to see me publish a 14-part deep dive into the Rolex Explorer II 226570. Every reference from 1971 to today. The history, the buying decisions, the technical details, and the things owners actually think about.

There will still be plenty of other essays here on money, intentional living, and the philosophy of owning quality things. The Explorer II series is a feature, not a takeover.

But it's also a signal. Less reaction to the news cycle. More depth on the things I genuinely care about. Fewer recommendations to spend money. More permission to be content with what you already have.

— — —

So here's a question for you.

What's your one watch?

Not the grail you're chasing. The watch you'd actually wear every day for the rest of your life if you could only own one. The watch that would make you feel okay if all the others disappeared tomorrow.

Hit reply and tell me. I read every one. And if your one watch is the Explorer II, even better. We're going to have a lot to talk about.

-Ian