One of the gifts of twenty-twenty hindsight is that those could-have-should-have and wished-I-would-have moments snap into unforgivingly sharp focus. A couple of years ago, I was reproaching myself for the Bitcoin that I did not buy, but the deflation of the crypto bubble has allowed a much older, more enduring regret to reassert itself—the fact that I never bought an F. P. Journe.
I remember once upon a time you could walk into a Journe shop and, mirabile dictu, purchase one of his new watches there and then. I also recall how they would crop up at auction frequently and affordably. Now you can wait up to a decade to buy a new one, or pay a six-figure sum for a pre-owned one. The problem with the former is that, at my age, I don’t know how long I have got, and the problem with the latter is that I know exactly how much I’ve got, and it is nowhere near enough.
