As a newbie tentatively taking his first steps into the world of watches about two years ago, as soon as I saw, read and heard about the Grand Seiko Snowflake SBGA211, I felt the need to own one almost immediately. And while that desire had been immediate, it took me months of reflection to understand exactly why I fell for it the way that I did. Initially, I thought that it must have been purely based on its aesthetic qualities. I’m sure that by now, everyone is sick of hearing about something something frozen tundra something something Zaratsu polishing something something Japanese nature something something plays with the light and something something craftmanship. All of this is true of course, but deep down I knew that it wasn’t the main reason for me purchasing the watch. After all, there are plenty of other gorgeous watches in the same price bracket, despite what the Grand Seiko fanboys might say.

Then I thought that perhaps the appeal of the Grand Seiko Snowflake SBGA211 was mainly because of the technical innovation of the movement. I had always enjoyed innovative engineering in my other hobby – which is cars, and there are certainly parallels to be drawn between Spring Drive and say, hybrid technology in Toyotas and hydro-pneumatic suspension systems in classic Citroens. But then, I also knew that I was far too much of a romantic to fall for just technical specs, so that wasn’t quite it either.

So I then contemplated the whole ‘under the radar’ nature of the brand. Sure, watch enthusiasts know all about Grand Seiko, but to the average person, it’s just a Seiko, and I knew that with the Snowflake on my wrist, I could avoid those embarrassing conversations about whether or not it was ‘real’ and those ‘gee, they must be paying you pretty well’ comments from colleagues. I’m sure Rolex owners know exactly what I’m talking about. But again, while this was a factor, it certainly wasn’t the primary reason for my decision.

Then, it finally dawned on me. When I was about seven years old – in the late 1980s, my dad took me into his office in Colombo, Sri Lanka. The clickety clack of a dozen typewriters filled the air and important looking people wearing ties rushed in and out. I got introduced to everyone who worked with my dad and got fussed over like I was royalty. The seven year old me felt like I had (finally) reached adulthood. On one of the walls was this beautiful big clock that featured a seconds hand with a smooth, sweeping motion. I had never seen that before, and the way that long, slender hand moved – continuously and relentlessly, completely captivated me. I even remember excitedly telling my mum all about it when I got home later that evening. That day, without being conscious of it, I had made a connection between the beautiful sweep of that hand and adulthood. That’s why, at the age of thirty-seven, finally feeling like I had truly come of age, the Grand Seiko ‘Snowflake’ had truly spoken to me.