You are numb to external pressure, immune to the great advertising machine that injects the masses with the subtle twinge of desire for consumption and social acceptance. You are a pragmatist who recognises the primary function of a wristwatch as the only function. A manual movement includes a margin of error that seems unnecessary in our modern age, and a digital display is more efficient than having to convert analogue dials to common sense... those 3/1000th of a second add up y'know!


Sorry kid, you are a hipster. Although your rhetoric would have us believe you are just wearing it because you're not into the whole watch fascism "they" want you to subscribe to, the reality is that a digital Casio is the perfect accoutre mon to your contrary attitude towards everything. If anyone could stand your company for long enough, they'd tell you nobody is impressed with your deliberate and desperate anti-consumerism statement watch and that your beard is crap.

You most likely bought your Casio from a pop-up vintage watch stand off an androgynous otherkin called Quinoa. You love the fact that it cost less than your ticket to that organic impromptu Arcade Fire gig in the men's room at Old Trafford as you affect your funny walk listening to FLAC files on £1,000+ reference grade headphones, completely oblivious to the irony.

Emporio Armani


You are jack-the-lad/lass personified. You might not be in the TAG strata yet, but that's okay because your watch has a metal bracelet and your Ralph Lauren polo shirt with the collar popped cost almost £75. Emporio Armani has a permanent spotlight at the Milan fashion week, so obviously you are on point with your sense of elan, and everybody thinks you're a great person with a happy-go-lucky attitude, your Adidas Superstars are Shane Richie white, and you always smell nice.


You are unaware that Armani also makes settees, soap dispensers and chess sets. You can't wait for the day when your horse comes in, and you can get yourself a TAG to show the lads down the boozer that you've made it. You've considered pawning in your oversized 9ct bracelet and horseshoe ring to put one big bet on, but you were overcome by Joop fumes and didn't come round until after Billy Hills had shut.

If you cracked the back off your gigantic watch, you'd see a minuscule brain in the centre surrounded by a massive plastic packer to keep it secure in its huge empty surrounding, which incidentally is precisely what you'd see if you cracked the back off your loaf.

Michael Kors


You consider yourself someone with their finger firmly on the pulse of high fashion. You are both socially and existentially in a perpetual state of "trending". Your friends always make you their first call for approval when trying out a new style and you are so attuned with London fashion week that when you watch it in your plus sized onesie, it's a political statement.

You firmly believe that one day you'll be discovered and plucked off the streets of Bransholme like a modern day Naomi Campbell but better looking.


You are a product of a system that feeds upon you like cattle. You have been pumped so full of air and hype that you are unable to distinguish original thought from a half-remembered soundbite written for some vapid celebrity by a focus group who can't stop rubbing their hands together.

You are probably convinced that you will be famous one day, that you are a unique snowflake who is maybe a little rough around the edges but not afraid to use his/her voice. The fact is you are an empty vessel that marketing companies are able to fill with whatever content they wish and have you wander around mouthing off and doing their job for them without an opinion of your own... and that's how Nazi Germany was founded, with lots of Michael Kors people not thinking.

If Kim Kardashion and voice-of-a-generation Kanye West literally jumped off a bridge you would literally follow them ...and all the way down you'd be tweeting selfies with "Jumping off a bridge bitches! YOLO!"



You don't think Garmin even belongs on this list; they don't knock out vanity watches, they create high precision wrist-wear devices. You see the fact that someone wouldn't want to be in constant contact with their biometrics as gross personal irresponsibility and something that should be addressed in the national curriculum, that would sort out the fat kid plague.

You live your life in a state of perpetual warm up; each step is an opportunity to shake it out so that you'll be ready when the next extreme sports opportunity arises, whether it is limbo skating, train surfing or photocopying. So what if you do 37 a week in an office cubicle, you're always primed for a quick jog to the furthest coffee shop to grab a skinny amino-accino and to point out the flaws in everyone around you mentally.


You have convinced yourself that literally, everything is somehow relatable to your personal fitness; "The trouble in the Middle East? Oh man, that's just like the other day when I was jogging round the park." or "They're planning a manned mission to Mars? Well, I hope they can maintain redline cardio for as long as I can, or they're not going to survive."

It's strange how you never subjected your systems to continual monitoring until you were staring middle age in the face, isn't it? Could this common phenomenon be just a coincidence or is there maybe the slightest chance that being over the hill, wearing a Garmin, taking up cycling, dressing like the world's most sponsored superhero, cutting out carbs, detoxing, cultivating a massive ego to mask your growing insecurities and being the most annoying person in your social circle are all somehow related?

You are old and no longer relevant; it's okay, everything will be fine.

Smart Watches


You are always on the bleeding edge of technology and look forward to the day when you can say farewell forever to your cumbersome meat-sack and exist as a collective of digital information, probably in a dystopian near-future where all currency has been replaced by "credits".

You were the only member of the family who could ever program the VHS so, of course, you are some kind of urban hacker like Neo from the Matrix. You have decided to skip 4K entirely because unlike the ignorant masses you and your friends on the HighTech.org forum know that 28K is on its way. You are switched on, tuned in and doing 120mph on the information superhighway.

You are prepared to accept hilariously bad battery life and pointless functionality as "teething problems" because you can see beyond the horizon.


You haven't quite grasped yet that the reason your friends and family all act like Luddites is because you are so eager to prove how smart you are that basic flattery can save them hundreds in call out fees... "you're so clever!" and "I'm too stupid to understand this stuff" ring any bells? Yeah, they're rick-rolling you son.

You watch Japanese cartoons and argue their legitimacy as a genuine art form over TeamSpeak while running raids in WoW between occasionally muttering "do a barrel roll" or "Leerrroooooyyyyyyy Jenkins" like you're slaying it in The Comedy Store. You consider yourself to have transcended the need for a primitive physical relationship with an actual human being and exist almost entirely online but you won't admit that the closest you ever got to another person was Guinevere the Lvl 24 Elven Enchantress who turned out to be a trucker from Northampton called Nigel.



You are a savvy consumer. You don't compromise on quality, but you aren't about to get sucked into the silly emotional connection of heavy brand marketing. You're satisfied in your middle-age and have made a series of sensible, well-informed decisions that have left you in a safe, warm place.

You recall the period in the 70's when James Bond wore a Seiko for a few films as this obviously puts the brand on a par with Omega and Rolex but hasten to point out the differences between them like how as opposed to the stuffy heritage that has lead to Swiss watches being stuck in a rut, the quiet efficiency and innovation of the Japanese equates to a truly modern, high precision timepiece.

You drive a Skoda Octavia with all the features.


You're not exactly beige thanks to actually having an opinion, but unfortunately, that opinion is about 35 years out of date. You wear coloured shirts with white collars and cuffs, and your cologne is incredibly expensive and hard to acquire, not because it's luxurious or exclusive, rather that the vats ran dry around the time Thatcher was ruining the North.

You have absolutely zero sex appeal in your taste. You are probably an embarrassing dad who thinks he's cool and valid but is, in fact, an disgraceful specimen stamping about with his conviction in backwards thinking. Just like a teenagers first musical connection, you are unable to let go of something that has had it's day...long, long ago.

You are a stalwart fan of something decrepit and irrelevant... like Status Quo. You still bore everybody senseless with how 'Francis and Rick' used to be the bad boys of rock in the early years completely oblivious that they have long been seen as a relic, a dinosaur skeleton vomited forth from the tar pits of rock music to lie at the side of the road, nothing more than a sad curiosity.

You are Status Quo: The Guy



You're the type of VIP who is constantly stepping out of a limo and into a reception for some foreign diplomat. If you're a lady, you wear a single stand of huge expensive pearls, for him, it's a fine Italian leather wallet that cost more than a students car.

You appreciate art... and not in the way that lesser people do, you appreciate in a way that only someone with breeding can. The various pieces in your house are not your possessions, you are merely a custodian ensuring their longevity and protecting them from the great unwashed who are just itching to draw crude moustaches on every face.

When you're not enjoying a Cabernet Sauvignon that has been allowed to breather correctly, you enjoy driving your S-Class into the countryside to survey your holdings, and occasionally if you are feeling particularly charitable, you even have a nod and a smile for the help.


Cartier has a long and distinguished history as watchmakers, but you don't care about this, just like you don't care about the waterproofing of your Hunter Wellingtons or the ride quality of your Mercedes. You care about making an impression, and unfortunately, it's an impression of Margot from The Good Life.

When you and your friends talk it's like a competition for who cares the most about the plight of the homeless without actually doing anything about it or who's lineage can be traced nearest to the aristocracy. If the board of directors at Cartier ever realised the true horror of their customer base, their marketing department would be fired by rocket into the sun.

Cartier watch people think everyone else wishes they were Cartier watch people, but the fact is they don't, and the reason is Cartier watch people.

TAG Heuer


You are jack-the-lad/lass done good and are now a distinguished man/woman-about-town. You have left behind the teething days of Armani watch ownership and have reached the far right of the social spectrum. For a watch to push you any further along it would have to come with a knighthood.

You consider yourself a sporty type and a natural yacht owner even though you've never been sailing, however, you used to blow kids minds at football in the quad at school, and your friends say you could have turned professional with Swinefleet F.C.

You are as good as any Rolex owner, in fact, you're better because your TAG says you're "keeping it real" unlike those other posers, besides Leonardo DiCaprio wears one and he's the business.


You would like to commit to a proper high-end heirloom watch, but you lack the vision to see past the fantasy of your Emporio Armani days. It'd be nice to think that deep down you know that you can never flop your TAG out during a watch measuring competition because it would shrivel up inside your sleeve but sadly you probably genuinely believe if you drop a K+ on a watch, they're all the same.

The most extreme sport you've ever done was jet skiing in Benidorm on Smiggies stag-do, but you affect all the accents of that type; you probably wear a shemagh with a tee, shorts and flip flops and your sunglasses are Oakley which, like your TAG, is because you lack the vision to see that you should either go RayBan or go blind.

...yeah you've got Leo but only because TAG pay him enough money to buy as many Rolii and RayBii as he can stuff in his mansion.



If you are not actually a pilot, then you certainly think you come across with the quiet competence of one. And not some half-wit jumbo jockey, you fancy yourself more as the top gun maverick type, flying imaginary VIPs and shady government types into hot zones other pilots would fill their knickers at the thought of. Okay, so maybe you're not at that level yet but once the Ryan Air recruiter sees that you wear a Breitling your guaranteed a fast track to those juicy under-the-radar Bolivia contracts.

Your watch is designed to stand up to the demands of an adventurous lifestyle, the type of thing a modern day Indiana Jones would need. You might be a junior accountant, but it's surely better to have a Breitling and not need it than to need one and have a TAG?


Like many of these higher tier watches, a Breitling doesn't say what you think it does. Where you see a quiet cool, everyone else sees an aloof smugness, where you project an effortless style everyone else receives a contrived trying-too-hard.

You are quick to reference real pilot John Travolta as an ambassador for the brand but not as one of his iconic characters like coolness personified lady killer Tony Manero or even high-school 30yr old Daniel Zukowitz, no, you see him as latter years Scientology mentalist John Travolta. You should never want to belong to any club that uses a Scientologist as it's poster boy.

Oh wait, but now you have David Beckham. Surely he's cool isn't he if he doesn't start talking? Well, let's examine the evidence. Take a look at the photo above. That is Breitling's publicity shot of David modelling the brand. Look at his face; he has got NO IDEA what time it is, just look how confused he is "...so if the small one points to 4 and the big one points to 1 ...that makes 5? The time is 5."



Like TAG owners, you have an Omega as a direct statement against what Rolex represents except, unlike TAG Owners, you have class and pedigree. You KNOW the difference between standards of quality, for example, you insist on Belvedere vodka whereas TAG types think they've hit the pools with a bottle of Absolute simply because it's not Smirnoff.

You are admired by all for your wit, intellect and calm capability in any given situation; you are truly the type of alpha male/female who would be anyone’s first pick in a 'stranded' situation. You carry this responsibility with absolute humility; you see no reason to telegraph how great you are because you wear an Omega and that says it all.


Yes, you insist on Belvedere, and yes, it represents the high end of supermarket vodka, but as anyone who has ever tasted it will confirm it tastes like a series of letters from the hospital about your failing health.

Omega is, in fact, the polar opposite of Alpha, you have essentially chosen a watch that, quite literally, says weak, submissive and an after thought. In the Greek alphabet Omega is the last character ...the last. In the Bible, Jesus refers to himself (and by extension God) as "the alpha and omega" meaning the beginning and the end...the end. Your watch, by its name alone, pulls your pants down for all the world to point and laugh.

You think you are James Bond

...you're Nick Nack



You are success, sophistication and style in one perfectly groomed package. You are the envy of wannabes who are still trying to fake it with a TAG or Omega. You wear Saville Row and cultivate designer stubble, and everybody knows you will only accept the best in all things.

The 19th hole lights up when you walk in and regale your peers with tales of the business deals you nailed while flying by the seat of your pants and how the smoking hot barmaid has propositioned you many times, but the smouldering masculinity of being a Rolex owner affords more mileage in knocking her back.

You drive a mid-range BMW, but you've got your eye on a pre-owned Porsche Cayman.


You are so far up your own ego that all anybody really knows about you is the complex weave of PR and propaganda surrounding you. People aren't sure what percentage of your hype is real, and they no longer care, it's just easier to file the whole thing under "Oh, that's just what he's like..."

You literally define yourself by your watch which is ridiculous when it's probably got less value that a modest family car; people don't buy a Ford Focus and start acting like J.D. Rockefeller, so maybe you should calm down a bit.

You and your kind are slowly killing the Rolex brand by using it as a club to bludgeon people who don't care about your watch and are sick of you constantly talking what everyone else calls Rol-locks. There are almost certainly people out there who appreciate craftsmanship and heritage and wear their Rolii with a quiet dignity but brother... you ain't one of them!

Patek Philippe


Your sense of style and quality are not defined by outside forces; you are a man apart from the herd. You don't aspire to a brand; you are simply connected to it. You don't think Patek Philippe are the finest watchmakers that art, design and engineering have ever produced; you are certain of it.

You are that guy... you know that one. You're the guy who breezes through with a perfect smile, a natural tan, the floppy hairstyle Hugh Grant ruined for everyone but you hung on and made it cool again, with an ultra clean sweater knotted about your lean muscular shoulders and a pair of deck shoes with no socks under slacks with a crease so sharp you cut perform surgery with them.

Your perfectly tailored suit never twists as you gracefully glide out of your Aston Martin DB5 but this isn't something you care if other people notice ...but maybe other Patek people would. Your choice in a watch is like your choice in clothes and cars ...it isn't making a statement to anyone other than yourself; you chose a vintage classic over an Italian hyper sport because one is timeless quality and the other is a vulgar bedroom wall dream for the 'strivers'.

You don't strive, you just are.


See above.