1. “backstage”
Obviously, how the story should have gone is as follows:
She stood in the lobby of the Astoria, having just left her Aston to the valet as I picked up my Martini from the bar. Our eyes met and she approached. I introduced myself, Bond, James Bond, can I offer you a drink?
This however, is not exactly how it happened. The Astoria was a small countryside Omega AD, the Martini tasted suspiciously like a Nespresso and the pickup line went more along the lines of 01L, Nav 01L…
And “She” as you will have guessed by now, if not from the title, is the Omega Seamaster Professional 300m (a.k.a. the SMP).
Omega has told and persists in telling us about the Bond relation of this watch. Just like they have made a speedy special edition for pretty much every mission to space humanly imaginable, they have made Bond special editions of this watch and what might be seen as its successor, the planet ocean, on every possible occasion. Hey folks, look a here! The “37.5 years since our CEO’s first viewing Goldfinger” special edition or the “1.5 years since the last Bond hit the Cinemas” special edition. It’s a bit like Vladdy’s dimonds… only with Bond instead of diamonds and Seamasters instead of Super Avengers.
Every time I saw this watch then, the whole Bond analogy rung loud and clear in my mind, however far I was from the Omega boutique’s window in which the seamaster, to no one's surprise is displayed with a huge poster of Danny Craig in the background.
But that wasn’t the end of it, because, had it been so, I could have just ignored the Seamaster as a nice bit of merchandizing (I mean, who doesn’t love Bond Movies?). After all, the Breitling for Bentley watches (B4B) or the Panerais with the cavallino on the dial don’t bother anyone either.
The SMP however isn’t just merchandizing. In fact, it isn’t that at all. If you discount all the Bondness, and the numerous special editions, this watch is (still) a great iconic design (which, no doubt, is how it became a credible Bond watch in the first place... that and the millions in sponsoring).
That's what appealed to me. With all the Bond watch blubber, the true identity of this piece is certainly being relegated to the back of the stage a little, but boy is it there for those who bother looking.
I for one did, and here are the findings, live from the back of the stage.
2. “a true diver”
A diver’s watch can be described in many ways. For some, it’s the Rolex Submariner, end of discussion. And in a large part, I can relate to that, because the Sub really has all it takes. It is rugged, it is reliable, it is legible, it is utilitarian, it (now) has a very good diver’s clasp… what more can you ask for?
Well, let me ask you this:
What is it that compells regular and sensible human beings to leave the comparably safe and solid ground of the earth, a friendly and welcoming environment, in order to enter a submerged world that we really weren’t made to be in? A world in which we cannot breathe, a world in which we need to extend our feet with plastic flanges in order to move and a world in which the pressure will kill all but the most careful of us?
Well, whatever it is, it is certainly not reason. If anything it is folly, passion and playfulness… it is what sells Ulysse Nardin watches with fish-dials or, at least in my eyes, it is what makes the beauty of the SMP.
The Submariner, with its sober and restrained lines (not unlike the PO by the way), is full of reason. The SMP is not.
It begins with the SMP having rather soft, almost organic lines, not unlike a fish (that is a real fish, not a steelfish). Look at the crownguards for example, so delicately swung, or the bracelet, so reminiscent of a fisherman’s rope.
The SMP then, has not only the diver’s bezel, but the diver’s spirit. It has the charm of a mermaid, the scent of the sea, the gentle rock of the waves all tied into a simple but eloquent design. An icon of the sea... Or a Master, if marketing shall take the upper hand.
Which brings us to the physical part.
3. “case, crown, bezel, hands and dial”
With the melodramatic part behind us, lets dive into the essentials.
The case of this watch is made from 316L stainless steel, no surprises there. The finish relies on the contrast between brushed and polished surfaces. While the polished surfaces are somewhat less shiny than, for example, the perfectly polished case sides of the GMT Master (I can only compare to what I know), the brushed surfaces remain quite shiny, reducing contrast and preventing the finish from exceeding what one would describe as discrete. The slightly rounded edges (definitely less sharp than the GMT’s) underline this effect even more. Wile it makes for a harmonious look and goes well with the organic feel of the watch, I might have appreciated the finish of the watch to pop just a little more. I am being critical on a very high level here though.
Overall, the case is quite slim and sits very comfortably on the wrist. It has a Seamaster engraving on the back and hence, no display crystal. It really is no big deal though, as the caliber 2500 is a bit “same old, same old” when it comes to looks (not at all when it comes to function, but I’ll get to that).
The case’s crownguards are very slim and a thing of beauty in their delicacy. They flow into the lines of the case perfectly and are fully coherent with the organic look.
The crown itself is a bit on the slim side for what it should be. Once unscrewed, it protrudes from the crownguards far enough to be operated easily though. The operation is smooth while not out of the ordinary. No surprise, considering there’s an ETA 2892 behind it.
The Bezel… well, what shall I say. It is something to behold this bezel. I looked at both, the black and the blue ceramic bezels at the AD’s. While the black one is not very different from the one on my GMT, the blue one (which I ended up going for) adopts a seemingly endless scale of bluetones, depending on the light and the light’s angle. It can look black (shot above, straight from the iPhone, not doctored in any way), just as it can look electric blue (shot below, straight from the phone, not doctored) or anything in between.
The ceramic bezel is very shiny and plays with reflections rather well. What is less striking is the stenciling on the bezel. While technologically interesting (cavities are laseretched into the ceramic ring and filled to the brim with what looks like either titanium or aluminum powder), the indexes on the bezel are rather dark and not extremely legible. As they have a matt surface though, they contrast well against the shiny bezel in most lights, which resolves the issue, at least in the daytime and outside the ocean. The bezel indexes are generally not lumed, but there is a, diver typical, green pearl in the 12 o’clock position.
To match this green lume pearl on the bezel, the minute hand has equally green lume applied to it. The rest of the lume on the hands and on the dial is blue. The hands are skeletonized. I have no idea why this is or who exactly had the idea to take the center out of them. By now, however, they have become quite iconic for this watch.
Unlike the previous iterations of the piece, which had the iconic wave dial, the dial of this watch is lacquered, as to echo the shine of the bezel. While the wave dial was undoubtedly a part of the playfulness of this watch, I can see why Omega dumped it. With Omega’s range generally going upmarket, and the SMP being more of a delicate piece (unlike the rougher PO), a little touch of class was in order. Reduction was and still is the best way to achieve elegance. The SMP in its prior iterations had more than enough design queues. Cutting out the most obvious of them was therefore a great way to up the tone a bit. And I must say, the result, in conjunction with the very well made hour markers, is nothing short of a success. Class is about subtlety, and subtlety is what defines this dial. In fact, this effort in reducing the design to something more subtle suits the watch so well that Omega might as well have reverted to simpler hands…
Just like on the blue POs, the date wheel is black with a silver typeface. While I’d have loved to see exactly this date wheel in Breitlings such as the Navi 01 or the black dial TOC, I have to say that it’s not the best imaginable fit for a blue dialed SMP. However, for those who really feel bothered by such things, there’s always the black-faced SMP. For those who want the blue one… this is the price to pay.
4. “the movement”
Up front, I apologize to those who can’t stand the co-axial folklore. There will be quite a bit of it in this section, so please jump to section 5 if you feel bothered, bored or both.
The movement in this watch isn’t Omega's own… well not entirely that is. Unlike the newer (cal. 8500/9300) POs, the SMP is animated by what Omega calls the caliber 2500D. To the nice people at ETA, the caliber 2500D is known as the 2892-A2, or shall I say was known, because by the time it gets built into the watch, there’s not much ETA left. As has been the case for a couple of years now, Omega replaces the very heart of each ETA ebauche with its proprietary escapement. This is of course, none other than George Daniels’ co-axial escapement, which by now, has evolved into a three-story mechanism (thus the D in the caliber designation). Now, there is a lot of documentation out there about Daniels’ escapement, so I will go into the details only so far. Unlike a Swiss anchor escapement, which relies on the escapement wheel’s scrubbing along the anchor's pallets in order to transfer energy to the balance wheel, the co-axial escapement has the escapement wheel give a direct push to the balance on each vibration. This reduces friction by a lot, as the anchor doesn’t have to transfer any energy. The idea, if I dare say, is neither new, nor Daniels’ however. It stems from the marine chronometer’s detent escapement. Why then, will you ask, has Daniels been credited with the invention? Well, a marine chronometer is a very delicate and sensitive piece. The detent escapement really doesn’t like being shaken around, which is why it is generally packed into a rather large wooden box with stabilizers. It is then, quite difficult to put it into a wristwatch. Daniels has implemented the principle of the detent escapement into a system that has an anchor instead of a spring powered detent, thus making it less sensitive to shocks and movement of any kind. This is why today, one can have on one’s wrist a “marine chronometer” which, not too long ago, would have needed a wooden box full of stabilizers to protect it. Nice eh? Nice indeed, and rather fitting for a piece called “Seamaster”, don’t you think? Yeah, me too.
I've had it since yesterday, so I can't speak yet as to reliability, keeps good time for now though.
5. “the bracelet”
Don’t be mistaken, the bracelet is made of solid links. It sure looks like a 5 row, but it really isn’t, the links are welded (?) together across the bracelet's width into one solid piece. Just like the head, the bracelet relies on the contrast between brushed and polished elements. Strangely, the polished elements are polished only towards the outside; the bracelet is entirely brushed along the inside. All in all, it has a very solid, if somewhat flexible feel. It has some play back and forth, which, as an object, makes it feel less sturdy than the GMTIIC’s bracelet. In terms of comfort though, the flexibility is a welcome feature. Where my GMT’s bracelet regularly digs into the back of my hand, the SMP’s bracelet readily bends out of the way.
The bracelet's esthetic is discretely reminiscent of a fisherman’s rope and thus perfectly in tune with the organic, maritime feel of the watch.
If anything, I think a slight taper would have made the bracelet more elegant, but that’s a minor consideration.
The clasp is again, something to behold. It is certainly less elegant than Rolexe's new Oysterclasp from the outside, and certainly not as much of a technical marvel as the Deepsea’s new diver extension system. Open it up though, and it is another story. Again, the finish is not exactly Rolex territory, but the sheer production value of the thing is amazing. Where Rolexe's system relies on a steel shell, this is a steel block, no other way to put it, and positively so.
The diver extension is simple but efficient. It is binary, meaning it’s either in or out, but I’m sure it has been measured to fit a neoprene suit perfectly. I will test that in due time.
The opening of the clasp is swift and effortless, while perfectly secure. It relies on two lateral pushers, hence preventing accidental opening. Every piece of the thing is made from thick solid steel… well, as I’ve said, altogether, a steel block.
6. “conclusion”
If you’re still awake by now and have gone through that whole review, you might have gained the impression that this is a rather solid divers watch at the tipping point to being a classy item of luxury. And you would be right. It unites long soft and organic curves, intriguing colors and high production value into a timeless and iconic design. It has the quality of a Submariner (if maybe a somewhat less pronounced finish on the metal surfaces) and the playful folly of a Ulysse Nardin, while still retaining an elegant subtlety.
If anything, I think Omega could sharpen the edges a little on the metal parts and drop the skeleton hands.
The movement may well have started life as an ETA but, by the time it gets to be the Seamaster’s heart, it has become something rather different and, incidentally, rather fitting with the maritime theme… a wristborne marine chronometer. Yes, there’s the 8500 out there which might be more beautiful to look at. In terms of escapement however, the D series of the 2500 doesn’t stand back in much.
All in all a very satisfying package… no wonder then, did James Bond want one
Nuff said… really
Beautiful watch and possibly a little underrated to due it's "big brother" PO. Enjoy and wear it often.
