01 / Midnight

Every watch begins as a drawing nobody was meant to finish.

The atelier has no sign. Inside, forty-one plans hang unrolled, each one a promise about time that the maker is still working out.

02 / The bench

Tolerance is measured in breaths.

Tavi presses a loupe to one eye and holds still. A screw the width of an eyelash turns once, and the whole movement agrees to begin.

03 / The case

Eight sides, one argument with the light.

Steel is brushed until it refuses to reflect, then polished at the edge until it cannot help it. The octagon is the compromise.

04 / The hands

Two slim blades that must never agree for long.

Ines asks why the hour hand is blued. Because, says Tavi, the sky at six is the only colour that has ever been accurate.

05 / Morning

The last drawing is the one you wear.

By the time the street turns grey the plans are rolled away. One watch is left running on the bench, and it is already a little wrong, which is how you know it is alive.

Discover the collection