Inside the Dial

The dial is the face a watch turns to the world, and ours is made the old way: grand-feu lacquer, laid in eleven coats, each left to settle before the next. Forty-two days pass before it is permitted to hold an index.

Ivory is the most unforgiving colour. It hides nothing — not a fingerprint, not a hurried hand, not a single mote of dust. To finish one well is to accept that most will be rejected. We reject most.

What survives is a surface that does not shout for attention but rewards it: warm under candlelight, cool under the loupe, and unmistakably made rather than printed.