Last week at an industry dinner – one of many this has happened at – I caught a watch enthusiast doing a double take at my wrist. He leaned in, examined my watch closely, and said something like, “Nice Patek, man,” or “Is that the new JLC?” I smile, hold out my arm for him to take a closer look, and watch delight turn to confusion and then something more visceral. “It’s a Seiko,” I explain, enjoying how his brain tries to compute what he’s seeing. “Like $300 on Amazon.” I’ve had this happen dozens, if not hundreds, of times since I bought this watch – a Seiko SARB035 with a cream dial and basic steel bracelet – four years ago. It’s become something of an accidental experiment into why we care about luxury goods, what drives perceived value, and what makes something seem “luxury” in the first place.
First off, let me be clear: I’m not trying to fake someone with a luxury watch. There’s no replica here. There’s no homage bullshit.
This is a legitimate mechanical watch made by a respected watchmaker with decades of history and excellent reputation in its own right. What’s interesting to me is how often this modestly priced watch gets mistaken for something 15, 20, sometimes even 30 times its actual value.
And what that says about watches, luxury, and the assumptions we make about them both.
When I first started wearing this watch regularly, I didn’t set out to have some kind of social experiment. It began innocently enough: after writing several articles about mechanical watches I wanted a watch of my own. Something with actual horological interest to look at but didn’t require selling a kidney to buy.
The SARB035 seemed to fit the bill, offering up an automatic movement, solid specs (sapphire crystal, etc.) and vintage-inspired proportions that appealed to me. I bought it online with as much (or little) thought as I might’ve given to picking up a new pair of jeans. When it arrived, I fell in love with it.
The cream dial morphs between looking ivory and silver, depending on lighting. The hands are heat blued, not painted. There’s subtle contrast everywhere you look.
The case itself has polished and brushed areas that play with light like you expect to see on much more expensive timepieces. I put it on first thing the next morning – I worked in an office building at the time, not yet from my kitchen table – and by lunchtime, a senior editor whose watch collection I’d been admiring popped by my desk to say hello. “New watch?” he asked. “Yeah, picked it up yesterday,” I replied. He looked at it again. “Oh, cool.
Grand Seiko?” “Nah, just Seiko,” I said. His eyes popped a little. “Huh. Really nice.
Looks more expensive.” And that was that. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but it turned into the opening salvo in what would become dozens of similar interactions over the following years. In the months after that lunchtime conversation my newfound bracelet would be confused for a Grand Seiko (reasonable, but still too rich for its blood), a Jaeger- LeCoultre Master Control, a vintage Omega Seamaster, and even – full_ready_for_seriously_back up-a Patek Philippe Calatrava in one case.
It started to become funny because the individuals making these mistakes weren’t simply casual observers or naive watch novices. Among thepeople to compliment my watch only to realize they had no idea what they were looking at were watch hobbyists, serious collectors, and industry folks who actually should know better. So began my informal research project into this question: why does my non-Luxury watch get mistaken for Luxury timepieces so frequently?
After four years of wearing it every day and documenting these interactions, I think I’ve figured out a few answers. Let’s dive in. When it comes down to it, this Seiko just looks and feels like an expensive watch.
The case size is 38mm right on that sweet spot that most modern luxury watches have returned to after several decades of giant “you-can’t- fit-that-on-my-wife’s-watch” styles in the early 2000s. The case thickness, lug width, and overall proportions speak to traditional watchmaking aesthetics we’ve been conditioned to associate with pricey watches from the big Swiss collections. “A lot of lower-cost watches get this stuff wrong,” Thomas told me. He’s a watchmaker I interviewed for another story who happened to notice my wrist as we spoke. “Too thick for the diameter.
Stubby lugs. Overly condensed-looking or something else that just feels off. When a watch hits these basic proportional checkboxes, our brains recognize that they’re well put together without us even knowing why.” That dial really is the secret sauce, too.
It’s so clean and deliberate. Applied hour markers that catch the light. A tiny date window at 3 that doesn’t disrupt the dial symmetry.
Hands that are the perfect size for the scale of the dial. Minimal text. No cartoonish decorations that shout BRAND NAME FROM YOUR POOR GRANDFATHER’S ATTIC WATCH COMPANY.
It’s a beautifully executed design that lets the actual material and build quality do the talking. It hearkens back to traditional dress watch aesthetics that luxury brands like Patek, Vacheron, and of course Jaeger-LeCoultre have sworn by for decades. Clean, well-executed designs that prioritize symmetry and visual “rhymes” with classic timepieces of the past.
Eric, a graphic design professor by day who’s been collecting watches for decades stopped me at one industry conference to compliment what he initially thought was a vintage JLC. “They laid this dial out using the golden ratio,” he said when I told him my watch was a humble Seiko. “We’re hardwired to recognize that ratio as pleasing to the eye, even if we can’t explicitly identify why.” This goes a long way, too. Throw on a well-tailored shirt, splash of cologne, and you’ve basically got yourself a recipe for luxury wrist porn. I will say that wearing it in and how it’s aged over time definitely plays a role as well.
Four years of everyday wear have given the bracelet some nice desk-dive scratches that add character instead of just looking “worn.” The cream dial has also taken on a warm patina that screams “well-loved vintage” instead of “functional workhorse slowly aging before your eyes.” I also happen to dress pretty nicely in general. Wearing a Seiko Diver every day doesn’t quite fit my personal style, whereas I rock a belt and button up on what feels like a weekly basis. Clothes make the man and also somehow the watch.
Finally, this watch lacks many of the obvious telltale signs that people often (mistakenly) associate with “cheap” watches. There’s no cheaply shimmering mineral crystal winking at you from behind a shiny steel case. The hands don’t have that plasticky micro-sway we all know and love from our real-$30 automatics.
The crown feels solidly built when you’ve it. There’s no “tinny” feeling to bracelet on the wrist. “Seiko is really good at disguising the typical weak points of an inexpensive watch,” said AJ, a former product developer at a major Swiss brand who asked to remain anonymous. “They know that luxury is often just about not being cheap rather than having some magical materials.” This is something I’ve found rings true in other categories, too. The difference between a $200 and $600 dress shirt isn’t always that the expensive one has better details – but rather that there aren’t as many obvious shortcuts on the higher end version.
Luxury is really the best a category has to offer, and often that excellence is achieved by simply doing fewer things wrong. On a philosophical level, my watch has gotten me similarly strong reactions from others, ranging from positive to downright hostile. Understanding why people have these reactions is part of the mystery I was hoping to unlock by writing this.
The most common reaction by far comes from casual observers. You know the type. The people who think they’re not “watch people” but love flaming bourbon rose gold Citizen Sunset titanium dive watches. “How nice!” they exclaim as you tell them your strap belongs to a humble Seiko. “Is that manual or automatic?” they ask.
You tell them it’s automatic. “Cool! What’s the movement?” You tell them. $60 Japanese movement designed to require as little maintenance as possible but still keep good time. “Really?! But it looks soooo expensive!” They’re shocked when you tell them it cost you $275.
Buyers remorse because they somehow think they should’ve been able to guess that based on current consumer conditions. Maybe. But here’s the reaction I find more interesting.
The folks who ooh and ah when they see the watch, think they know what it is, and then look at you like you’ve robbed them of their precious once you tell them the price. This happens most frequently with watch enthusiasts and collectors. The typical reaction goes something like this: They notice you’re wearing a watch.
They approve. They think for a second, comment on how nice it is, and then spitball a guess as to what they think it is. “Nice! Is that a vintage JLC Master Control?” Watch excites them, so they assume the other person wearing it probably loves it just as much.
I tell them it’s current-day Seiko. Silence. Eye-opening. “Wait, really?
Damn, that’s cool! Let me see THAT!” They circle back and become WAY more interested in your life than a random stranger should. Why the dramatic shift in attitude?
My theory: these are watch people who love watches for the actual watches. They want to talk about movements, modifications, horology as mechanical art. They don’t care about what something costs or what it might signal to the outside world when they’re wearing it.
Then there are the guys who just lose interest. Who wouldn’t want to talk watches with a watch lover? Guys who lose interest when they find out your particular watch isn’t the latest Andexoder Name They Think You Should Know For This Article luxury brand release.
These are the collectors who care more about what Instagram thinks your watch is worth and less about how good of a timepiece it actually is. Miguel, owner of one of the largest vintage boutiques in Dallas, described these folks to me as “wankers.” Okay, maybe he didn’t say wanker, but that was essentially the word he used. Finally, there are the people who don’t believe you.
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I’ve lost count of how many times someone has responded to my humble Seiko-brands-a-million-watches-per-year revelation with some variation of “no way dude,” “come on … seriously?” and one particularly classy gentleman at a media event actually said, “No seriously, what is it?” as if I were somehow embarrassed to share. I don’t want to give the impression that only a rare breed of watch can trick people into thinking it’s something more expensive. My SARB035 is great at this stuff but not unique.
Many watches can hold their own when stacked up against far fancier timepieces. I own several that regularly fool friends and family. There’s an older Orient, a vintage Hamilton, and even one of my dress watches – a humble Tissot Visodate – is regularly mistaken for its triple-digit-hu stronger brother (thank you, weirdly similar crown).
There’s something categorically different about this watch, though. Aside from being an objectively great timepiece in its own right (and really dang handsome to boot) Seiko’s SARB035 benefits from a sort of scarcity many affordable watches don’t. Discontinued worldwide and never officially sold in America, the SARB035 was quietly sold to Japanese customers for a number of years before being retired from production entirely.
Coupled with that “retro” cream dial that feels like something a vintage dealer would force on you for twice the watch’s value, this Seiko oozes authenticity. “It doesn’t look like a luxury watch because it’s not one!” Rene, a longtime watch journalist friend told me over coffee once. He wasn’t being snarky or rude. In fact, he smiled as he explained it to me.
He was dead serious. Your Seiko isn’t fancy because SEIKO doesn’t make watches that look that expensive. It’s a simple fact that lends this watch an air of legitimacy others lack.
The movement deserves some credit here, too. While by no means high-end or elaborately finished, the Seiko 6R15 automatic movement inside is well regarded, field-proven, and actually works like a reliable watch should. It doesn’t try to look Swiss.
It just does its job and looks like a Seiko movement should. I’ll be honest, hearing people compliment something on your wrist that’s not actually what they think it is can feel funny. Like you hacked their Swan-Govan successfully without them realizing it.
I attended an event last year where I was approached by a brand ambassador for a luxury Swiss brand, praising the whatever it is he thought I was wearing as one of his company’s best-looking releases. When I explained that I was, in fact, wearing a Seiko, he gave me a look that said we were both idiots for letting me into a room wearing what he must’ve thought was a counterfeit. Others have been less threatening and more rewarding.
The guy who approached me after a panel I was moderating on sustainable watch production thanked me for introducing him to what he thought was this Seiko’s bizarrely priced “competitor.” He left happy that I’d turned him on to Seiko, not pissed I ruined the nice watch fantasy. Again, this is less about tricking people and more about perceptions of value. Luxury pricing gets absurd, even by many insiders’ standards.
There are certainly justifications for what a Patek can cost and what this Seiko costs. But swap out those names for any high-end Luxury watch brand and a comparable “value” brand and I bet we’d see some similar confusions. As one retired executive of a major Luxury watch company said to me:.
Luxury watch retail prices aren’t based on cost-plus formulas most other businesses use to determine pricing. They don’t scale linearly with production costs, either. The difference between making a $1,000 watch and a $10,000 watch is not, despite popular consumer belief here’s the retail price times five,” anywhere near ten times more expensive to produce.
Maybe double. Maybe triple. Probably not more.”Luxury Watches Get So Expensive Because You Can.” Fast Company.
Retrieved from To be fair, I don’t think this is meant as a knock against luxury brands either. Real, artisan-level craftsmanship costs money. There’s undeniable value in hand-finished movements, hand-assembled watches, and pioneer-level innovation.
But Seiko wearing experience has taught me that many watch buyers these days aren’t as savvy as they should be. If there’s someone looking over your shoulder and micromanaging your watch experience, you’re probably buying a luxury watch. Buyers of Seikos, Orient’s, Certains, and everything in between are forced to do their own homework because those brands don’t have the lux(ury) of longstanding marketing budgets and founder wrist shots on tote bags.
The upshot? The next generation of watch buyers is far, far more educated about their purchase than any previous generation. That scares the shit out of luxury watch brands.
Hell, it’s probably why they’ve doubled down so hard on limited editions, artificial scarcity, and invitation-only distribution in recent years. Education solves everything. Once you point that gun to something everyone else has been willingly paying to own without asking too many questions, people start asking questions.
My Seiko will probably continue to trick people into thinking it’s something far more expensive than it is. That doesn’t bother me. If anything, I appreciate my watch more now that I understand how good it truly is when compared to even the highest-end offerings from Luxury watch brands.
But I also appreciate what sets it apart now more than ever, too. There’s an entire segment of watch buyers who don’t care about that stuff. They don’t care about prestige.
They don’t care about what something might cost or what a celebrity might be sporting on MTV circa 2. They simply want a good watch. A well-made watch.
One that fits their budget and fills the role they want it to on their wrist. Want to know the scariest part about my watch to luxury/watch brands who’ve never considered legitimate competition? Knowledgeable consumers know what they’re talking about these days.
Luxury watches get more bafflingly expensive in almost every category each year. I know because I see them all. “Entry-level” watches that cost more than my car. Give me a watch that’ll Do The Job™ without requiring me to take out a second mortgage anytime.
The past few years have shown me there’s a booming market for folks who feel the same way. It’s no coincidence that many of the best watch brands you’ve never heard of are gaining traction right now. The internet has democratized what was once the exclusive playground of luxury watch media.
Our readers (and your customers) know a great watch when they see one. And there are a LOT of great watches they can see for way less than $500. That may be the single scariest realization for traditional luxury brands whose future survives off selling watches two, three, maybe even four times what they should cost.
My Seiko doesn’t look like a Rolex because it’s not trying to. It wasn’t designed in a boardroom full of executives deciding how to make a 911 copy what a 812 looks like. At the end of the day, I love this watch.
I think about it every day when I wear it. Not because it can trick people into thinking it’s something more luxurious. But because it doesn’t need to.
It’s an honest watch. It does everything I want from a mechanical watch and does it admirably. If you asked me why I don’t own more “luxury” watches as a result, I wouldn’t lie and say my standards are too high.
They’re not. But something as objectively great as this Seiko has shown me that what I look for in a great watch is possible at the high-end, too. I just have to know where to look.
My Seiko reminds me there are still great brands selling watches for rational prices that don’t need to BS you with “brand value” to justify what essentially are marketing budgets as retail.
I know enough about watches now to spot some of these brands. I won’t pretend that anyone reading this is buying my “brand story” and thinking your next purchase is going to have the same magical luck.
It won’t. But that shouldn’t scare you. If it does, you’re probably selling the wrong folks anyways.
My watch gets comments like this so frequently, I’ve stopped tracking how many times it’s happened. As this watch continues to age, garner compliments, and generally do its thing as if none of this happened, I’ll inevitably receive newer models as gifts. Friends know how much I love it and want to share that experience with me.
That means “the next generation” of Seiko SARB035s is probably coming to my collection soon. When it does, I’ll likely keep this one and give it to my son or someone else’s who has the appreciation for a quality timepiece that doesn’t break the bank. To anyone reading this thinking, “Yo, I should totally get that guy a watch for Father’s Day.” Please do.
It’ll mean the world to him.
