I’m Not a Watch Journalist, I Just Write Loudly: Plus a Special Update

Photo by Chris Antzoulis - Studio Underd0g Series 01 Watermel0n riffing on its own version of the Paul Newman bund

Let me explain. When I started writing in the watch community, I labeled myself a “watch journalist.” If you received an email from me during those first six to eight months, you would’ve seen that title proudly sitting in my signature. But over time, I started to question what the “journalist” part really meant.

Photo by Charles Zhang

( @_the_red_comet_ ) - Wanted me to do a double #ChrisPose…which is a Wakanda Forever

To me, a journalist is someone who investigates and reports on topics of public interest, who turns verified facts into accurate stories, and ideally, does so without bias. That’s not what I do—nor is it what I want to do.

Watches bring me joy. So does this community. And while I’ll never shy away from expressing my beliefs or using my voice to encourage a more inclusive, thoughtful culture, at the end of the day, I’m not reporting on humanitarian crises or corporate corruption. I’m writing about tiny machines we strap to our wrists—beautiful, intricate, sometimes ridiculous machines that serve no essential purpose in modern life beyond delighting us.

Recently, I was listening to an episode of the Time2Calibrate podcast with Adam Craniotes, co-founder of RedBar, as a guest. At one point, Adam talked about the importance of approaching watches with a sense of humor—and I felt seen. That’s been my default setting from day one. To entertain. To write with a wink. Or, when the moment calls for it, to be so awkwardly honest and emotionally available that someone else might feel comfortable doing the same.

This isn’t journalism. It’s storytelling. It’s commentary. It’s culture writing through the lens of watches. It’s passion, filtered through lived experience, laced with curiosity, and (in my case) occasionally dunked in sarcasm.

Sometimes I try to imagine what I’d sound like if I fully leaned into the traditional “watch journalist” voice. Probably something like: “The latest reference 5870R-001 from Patek Philippe continues the maison’s legacy of understated elegance, presenting a symphony of horological nuance in an 18k rose gold case measuring 38.5mm…” and honestly, I bore myself halfway through the sentence. There’s a time and place for reverence, sure—but if every review reads like it’s being delivered by a Victorian butler with a thesaurus, who are we really talking to? Not the person who just bought their first Tissot and is looking for someone to say, “Yeah, that watch rules. Great pick.”

Photo by Chris Antzoulis - Nomos Club Campus on a Ride to Conquer Cancer x StrapHabit Collab

What I’ve come to realize is that I don’t want to contribute to the exclusivity that sometimes plagues this space. There’s a performative element to parts of the watch world—a pressure to know reference numbers, obscure vintage details, auction results, and insider terminology as some kind of prerequisite for belonging. That pressure can be intimidating. It can make newcomers feel like they have to earn their seat at the table with encyclopedic knowledge before they’re allowed to just… enjoy the hobby.

I’ve seen it in the way certain online communities **coughfacebook&youtubecough** react to “entry-level” questions with eye-rolls and gatekeeping. Or how someone wearing a fashion watch might get side-eyed as if their interest doesn’t count unless it’s backed by a certain price tag or a lineage that traces back to Swiss valleys. Even in writing, there can be this academic tone—clinical, aloof, overly reverent—that keeps things at arm’s length rather than pulling readers in. I get that there’s a time for rigor, but if every article reads like a dissertation, we lose the warmth. The human part.

That’s why I write the way I do. Not to water anything down, but to make it accessible. To write in a way that says, “You don’t have to know everything to love this.” Whether you’re wearing a G-Shock or a Grand Seiko, whether you’re brand new or ten years deep, your enthusiasm counts. Your perspective matters. This isn’t a private club—it’s a shared curiosity.

So no, I’m not a watch journalist. I’m just a writer who happens to love watches—and wants to write about them in a way that invites others in, rather than keeping them out with a wall of expertise or objectivity.

I’m here to enjoy the ride—and hopefully, make you smile along the way. With that said…

Announcing A Tale of Two Wristies Podcast

What happens when two writers, two dogs, and two overflowing watch collections span an ocean but land on the same wavelength? You get A Tale of Two Wristies—a brand-new podcast hosted by my friend Iman Qureshi and me!

Chris and Iman the hosts of A Tale of Two Wristies!

We’re talking watches, yes—but also life, stories, obsession, design, dog hair, and the unexplainable joy of discovering a GMT function you might never use but definitely had to have.

What to Expect

Each episode, we sit down (virtually) to chat about what’s ticking—on our wrists, in the industry, and in our lives. From microbrand mania to big-brand drama, everyday wear, and why we keep buying watches we don’t technically need... we’ll be covering it all with warmth, candor, and the occasional roast.

Because A Tale of Two Wristies isn’t just about watches—it’s about the people who wear them. Episode One will be launching in the coming weeks. Stay update on Instagram at @ATaleofTwoWristies.

REMEMBER, nerds…. to keep the comments clean. Please don’t make me pull out ole Antoine-Louis here.