Lorier Safari Review: Chuffed to Bits

You often see or hear people discuss the importance of the "go anywhere, do anything" watch; a timepiece that looks slick enough for when you have to meet with some new investors at your job while having enough water resistance for swimming in your beach house's pool four hours after you clock out, which itself is 100 feet from the shoreline.

The GADA timepiece has always been my favorite watch genre, and most of the timepieces I buy are ready for anything I'd realistically do with them. My first concern when buying a watch is how much water resistance it has, as I prefer any new timepieces I buy to have at least 10 bars for peace of mind.

My PRX held this position for a good chunk of last year, but unfortunately it developed an issue with the winding practically a year to the day I bought it. See, whenever I manually wound the Powermatic 80, it would require way more effort than usual to do so, and when I did, the rotor spun violently. Fortunately, this is a relatively common issue with ETA 2824-derived movements, and my PRX is still under warranty, so I'll be able to get it fixed for free. I also kinda got tired of the PRX's brutalist design, which I feel somewhat limited its versatility.

While my Hamilton PSR had been Acting Daily Wearer since I discovered this issue, I still wanted something similarly versatile as the PRX, but with the added benefits of:

1. Having traditional lugs

2. A mechanical movement not derived from the ETA 2824 (which includes the Sellita SW200)

3. Not having to rely on a Swatch Group service center—or any service center—for maintenence and repairs

4. Being slightly more utilitarian-looking while still having the ability to be dressed up

Now, I could've gone down this route in many different ways. There's tons of watches that fit these criteria, but because I also wanted to get a new watch to celebrate my first professional job out of college, I needed something that I could hypothetically wear to the office on a Friday, then to Fire Island on Saturday.

The watch that I initially thought of buying was the Seiko Alpinist 1959. For those of you who've followed me for a while, you'll remember that my Christmas watch last year was a toss up between it and my PSR (and unfortunately, I'm not privy to popular vote). I really like the look of the 1959 Alpinist, and how it manages to have 200m of water resistance in a relatively slim package. But at the same time, I haven't heard great things about the 6R35 and its hit-or-miss quality; I didn't want to spend $600 on a gamble. Plus, it infuriatingly has 19mm lugs, meaning that I'd only have one strap that would fit it, and if I wanted to use said strap, my Orient Tristar would have to sit around without any means of wearing it. While I could've gotten a regular or Baby Alpinist, it wouldn't ease my concerns about the 6R35.

But then, I remembered one watch that fit the bill, one that I really wanted upon release but didn't have the money to buy: the Lorier Safari.

Founded only six years ago in 2017 by a husband and wife team, Lorier has quickly established itself as one of the most unique and endearing microbrands on the market. Their mission is to make quality, affordable timepieces that are heavily inspired by vintage mid-century watches, which are now both too expensive and too fragile for true daily use. You can see this influence through their love of gilt dials and their usage of hesalite crystals on all their watches, much to the chagrin of spec-obsessed snobs. While I do think their core collection (the Neptune, Falcon, Hyperion, Gemini and Astra) is great, I honestly never really felt compelled to buy one of them; I guess it's because most of their stuff doesn't really grab my attention, at least through a screen.

The Safari, meanwhile, is a different story. Made as a limited-edition collab between Lorier and watch influencer TGV—who owns the YouTube channel The Urban Gentry—the Safari is limited to 1,000 pieces worldwide: 500 ivory dials and 500 copper dials.

I remember being so bummed out while walking in the December cold at college, listening to TGV's video about the design process and the watches that inspired him and the Ortegas, the couple that owns Lorier. I was sad that I'd never get to own a timepiece that was brought into this world by three of the most respected people in this fucking bizarre hobby.

https://youtu.be/cRl_w-mACwQ

But now, I own this unicorn; I managed to find the ivory dial variant, the version I wanted, on eBay. Not only that, I managed to score it for retail, and it even came with a whole bunch of 18mm straps, a godsend for a guy who doesn't have a whole lot of them lying around.

Originally conceived as a modern copy of a vintage homage to the Omega Ranchero, the Safari eventually evolved into a tribute to the Rolex Bubbleback and Explorer, as well as Omega's 1957 Trilogy.

While the Safari actually lacks said Bubbleback, it recalls the design philosophy of Rolexes and Omegas from the 30s and 40s, while still having a wholly original design. And from my cursory knowledge the Safari is actually one of the cheapest watches you can get with authentic blued hands, which many mid-century watches came equipped with.

It also comes with one of the hallmarks of microbrand horology, the 28,800 VPH Miyota 9039. The Safari is my first encounter with the 9000 series, and right out of the box it was running COSC, only gaining 2 seconds a day overnight. While it's roughly double the price of the ubiquitous Seiko NH series, I wish more microbrands would adopt it in place of the NH family, as it provides objectively better specs while still being relatively affordable. The only thing that holds it back is the unidirectional winding and rotor noise, but even then it's way less prominent than the old, stodgy 8000 series.

The box that the Safari came in isn't on the level of Omega or Rolex, but is pretty substantial and impressive nonetheless; I'd say it's on par with Orient’s bigger boxes. You also get a little leather travel pouch that you can put a watch in, along with any tools or straps you may need in case you can't fathom going somewhere with just one watch. I've actually wanted to get a pouch like this for a while, though I never had the wherewithal to spend $40 on one.

The Safari itself is a svelte little thing, only being 36.1mm wide (39.3 with the crown), 43.2mm long and 11.5mm thick, though it's only 9.5mm if you don't count the domed crystal. Additionally, its lug width is 18mm, and because the ivory dial version could hypothetically work with so many different straps due to its neutral color, you can really go to town with how you style the Safari. It can easily go from being a dressy heirloom-inspired watch with a nice leather strap to a rugged, legible timepiece you'd wear to fight the Nazis, the Imperial Japanese or Fascist Italy with a NATO, single pass, canvas or Bonklip. According to TGV, this was by design, as he wanted to design a watch that "you can wear 'suited and booted', but also in a swimming pool [or] on adventures". The fact that whoever owned this Safari before me threw in a whole bunch of 18mm straps for free is indicative of this.

Even though most enthusiasts would usually want period-correct dimensions from a watch like this, the Safari's size is largely in line with the watches it's based on, even though it's measurements were roughly based on a far newer watch, the neo-vintage Explorer 14270. Produced from 1989 to 2001, TGV explained in his video that his 14270 was partially responsible for the Safari's existence, as he appreciated how his Explorer was a do-it-all watch that wasn't too bombastic in its appearance. While the Safari is far less conservative (especially the more desirable copper dial variant) it still manages to strike that fine balance that's inherent to the Explorer.

While all polished, the Bubbleback-inspired case has obviously had some thought put into it during the design process. There's no rough edges or any real indication that Lorier got careless when making the watch. Owing to its tooly nature, the screw-down crown is very slightly oversized for ease of use, and makes unscrewing, winding and setting easier. The caseback is also crisply engraved with The Urban Gentry logo, just in case you somehow forgot that TGV helped to design this timepiece. Additionally, you get drilled lugs, which is a godsend for a watch that can work with so many straps.

The dial on the Safari isn't exactly complex, but it's a looker nonetheless. Saluting the enamel dials of the past, it's a very slightly off-white matte, complete with a minute track, sniper dial and a 3-6-9 dial arrangement. It allows you to immediately know what the time is at a glance, without having to do mental gymnastics due to an abstract design. The true-blued handset further assists you in distinguishing the correct time due to how their designs are radically different.

The Safari's lume, without a doubt, is one of the most impressive things about the watch. It comes with Swiss C3 Super-LumiNova, and all the indices glow brilliantly while in the dark, adding to the Safari's utilitarian nature. I wouldn't be surprised if my Seikos and Orient cry themselves to sleep at night in my watchbox, their egos broken by a rinky-dink microbrand watch.

Like all their watches, Lorier gave the Safari a hesalite crystal. Despite what you'd think, acrylic and hesalite are relatively tough. While they do scratch easily, they don't shatter like mineral or sapphire, and when they do scratch, you can just polish them out with PolyWatch or even toothpaste. Lorier even sells the compound with all of their watches, though mine unfortunately didn't come with a tube, as I'm at least the third owner of this watch.

Something else that the Safari didn't come with is its stock perlon strap. While I'm not entirely sure why it wasn't included with the watch, I'm guessing that the person who owned this Safari before me (or maybe the guy before him) either liked it so much he kept it, or it was so shitty it was disposed of.

The only real drawback of the Safari is that it's a limited edition that you can't buy directly from Lorier anymore. Like I mentioned, I got mine from eBay, and I'm pretty sure that I'm at least the third person who's owned this, as the name on the accompanying thank you card and the name of the guy I bought this from weren't the same. While TGV did offhandedly mention that Lorier would make you one if you asked the Ortegas nicely, I haven't heard them or any enthusiasts confirm if this is possible. Luckily, both Safari variants go up for sale on Watchuseek, r/WatchExchange and eBay semi-regularly, and not for hugely inflated prices; at most you'll be paying $100 over sticker, and I definitely think the Safari is still worth it at $600. Alternatively you could just buy one of Lorier's non-limited models, as I trust all the good qualities that I talked about here applies to anything Lorier makes. The Falcon and the upcoming Astra essentially have the same specs as the Safari, and take after the Explorer and Datejust, respectively.

I'm pretty surprised that a husband and wife team could make a watch that, in many ways, is good as (if not superior than) the stuff you can get from established brands. You almost never hear about serious or repeated QC issues from small microbrands, and when you do their owners always own up to it, and promise to be better in the future. You'd never hear that sort of thing from Seiko, who could practically sell their misaligned bezels as a feature...if they had a marketing/PR team that didn't take themselves way too seriously.

While I like most of the watches I review, I don't really expect my readership to buy the timepieces I discuss after they're done reading. But this time, I'm making a stand: if you love watches, especially vintage-inspired ones, you've gotta get a Lorier. It doesn't have to be a Safari, but I still think the Ortegas have managed to hit some sort of bullseye of quality, affordability and competent design. You won't regret getting one anytime soon.