Every now and then, a watch surfaces that stops you in your tracks — not because it's hyped or headline-grabbing, but because it feels like a whisper from another era. This is one of those pieces. A unicorn.
Very few were ever made, and even fewer have survived. Many were likely lost during the so-called "dark age of quartz" — melted down, forgotten, or simply discarded. But this one? It's still here. And it's immaculate.
This Audemars Piguet from the 1960s is a rare glimpse into what the brand was capable of before luxury became loud. I was told that back then, this wasn't something you could walk into a boutique and buy. It was almost mythical — an off-catalogue piece. You'd pay in advance, guided only by a photograph or a dealer's description. Then AP would make it for you.
The 1960s were a fascinating time for Swiss watchmaking. While some brands were industrializing their output, others — like AP — remained almost atelier-like in their approach. This was a time when horology still flirted with fine art. This particular piece was available in both yellow gold and white gold, giving collectors a choice — subtle warmth or cool understatement — though neither option was easy to come by.
Then there's the dial — arguably the soul of the watch. In this example, it's a wafer-thin layer of natural jade stone, delicately sliced and mounted. Working with jade is no small feat; it's brittle, unpredictable, and nearly impossible to machine at this scale.
And yet, Audemars Piguet didn't stop at jade — they also produced versions with lapis lazuli and tiger's eye, each bringing its own texture and mood to the watch.
But the jade variant has something special — it's serene, meditative. Almost ghostly under the light.
What really brings this one together for me is the hobnail bezel — a classic AP texture that gives the watch just enough character without ever crossing into ostentation. It's tactile, architectural, and paired with the stone dial, creates this quiet tension between nature and geometry.
When I first held this piece, I didn't even check the movement or the serial. I just stared. Watches like this don't hit you with branding or tech specs — they pull you in slowly. It felt like finding a voice from a time when objects were made with patience, for people who understood patience.
In today's world of waitlists, influencer hype, and algorithm-fed trends, watches like this remind me why I started collecting in the first place. They weren't made for flexing. They were made for feeling — for the connection between the wearer and the craft.
Feelippo's
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