Oris military watch review

Buying a vintage watch online is about as safe as walking in a minefield. Sure, you might get a lot of pleasure taking in the morning air of the countryside, but inevitably, there will come a day when you step a little skew and see your intestines flop all about and watch as bits of your body fall from the sky like in a gory Doom video game death animation. I decided to take a casual stroll in a metaphorical Flanders field.

I bought this Oris for the equivalent of $60. Not a bad price, considering that vintage Oris watches are (surprisingly) not all too collectible. It was a privilege to speak to the watchmaker, first of all. I would have probably paid just as much for a half hour with him in person. His name is Mr Lopes, he's seventy-six and originally comes from Mozambique. He moved to South Africa in 1975 to start his own business. He may never find this review, but words cannot express my gratitude to him. He kept me updated with anything and everything and we shared a phone call when I received the watch. He is a true inspiration for me to take up watchmaking. 10/10 service, unparalleled. He said the movement had some rust on it, which he cleaned off during his service. The watch currently runs at ±15s per day, which is just as good as, if not better than my Seiko 5. Such levels of accuracy for a seventy-year-old movement is insane to say the least.

Let me give you the boring things you're expecting from a review so I can tell you the rest of the story. The dial looks awesome. I'd imagine it to be some cuprous alloy judging from the reddish colour. Just like that, I have made myself a target for South African copper theives who will cut off my arm for the half cent worth of copper in the watch. The dial is original to my knowledge. The lume on the numerals actually doesn't do anything anymore. Plus it's probably slightly radioactive. I should be fine if I steer clear from breathing the lume dust in or licking the dial, although if I ever reach such a point in my life where I think about doing that, far worse things would have happened already. The hands were likely relumed at some point, clear from the fact that they, you know, glow, and that the lume on them is a lot lighter than that of the numerals. The hands are also heat blued (the seconds hand was likely painted, but that paint has ceased to exist, so I'm left with a dark shade of rough steel) which is a surprising first in my collection. The movement is exactly what you'd expect when you hear "seven jewels." Fine, unless you drop it or subject it to any activity that requires more energy than sitting on a comfortable leather chair. You could have been rough with it seventy years ago, it is a military watch after all, but the sands of time have definitely weakened this one. The case size is a freakishly small (by modern standards) 31,5mm excluding the crown. It is in a watch like this that Oris' "big crown'' lineup can trace its roots, with this particular model being fitted with a crown slightly larger than one would expect, but not one that looks out of place. The case is base metal (as was everything back then) and the back is stainless steel. "Waterproof" is printed on the dial and engraved into the caseback. I am not going to take any chances.

The numerals glow... for no longer than two seconds.

Back to the story. I don't know the exact full life story of this watch. I asked, but Mr Lopes also didn't know. It likely came into the shop recently. Oris watches were originally very cheap, so cheap that owners often threw them out when it came time for a service. That's why it's special for me to keep this one running. When I'm in my forties, this watch will be a century old. If I can keep it in my hands for another two decades (granted, I haven't even lived two decades yet) I will have something slightly interesting. Anything a hundred years or older is interesting. Paleontologists literally look at ancient faeces and go, "hmm, interesting."

This is the part that got me. Mr Lopes and I shared some tears over our messages. He wasn't selling this to make a profit. I wasn't buying this to have an everyday runabout. We both wanted to preserve the past. In an age where vintage items are getting rarer, and consequently, more expensive, I am honoured to be holding on to a part of the time that once was. Seventy years is a truly unfathomable amount of time. We don't always think of it like that when reading through books or examining antiques, but seven decades really is long. What all can change in seventy years? Society will probably change and become almost unrecognisable to us. This post might not be around anymore. This website might not be around anymore. I may not be around anymore. You, dear reader, may also not be around in seventy years. Even if we do make it to such ages, we definitely won't be spring chickens. Maybe we'd all be put into robot bodies or some other wild sci-fi device.

The comparison made in that introduction was likely not of the best taste; we all forget the WWI casualties. If some of the most heroic men were left forgotten by the unfeeling tides of time, what will happen to most of us average people just doing stuff? How many generations has this Oris been through? What has it seen? I'm tempted to have children as soon as I can just to have someone to pass this thing on to. It's special, and as you can tell, I am a sucker for sentimental things and I love to get all misty-eyed about war, heroism and the past. It makes no financial sense to keep it running, but since when has this hobby been about spending money wisely? I also wear it often; what good is an antique if nobody ever gets to see it?