One of the Worst Things You Can Be is a Connoisseur

I had a moment the other night. I was browsing a "Buy, Sell, Trade" forum, looking at a Sinn 556i listing. I’ve been looking for this specific reference for a while. It’s the perfect everyday watch (for me), plus it has a date. The price was fair, the seller had good feedback, and the dial was excellent. But then I zoomed into the photos of the caseback. And there they were: scratches on the underside of the lugs.

Nenad Pantelic • January 11, 2026

Now, let's be real. These marks are completely invisible when the watch is on a wrist. Even the deep ding that this watch had at the inside of a lug. No one would know they were there. Except me!

But that was enough. I immediately pinpointed those scratches as a dealbreaker and closed the tab. I just couldn't pull the trigger on such a watch.

I sat back and realized. I am such a snob. One of the worst things you can be is a connoisseur.

This happens to me with straps also

Same thing happens to me when I am looking to buy a strap. I am scanning the stitching for a millimeter of deviation. I am looking at the edge paint, trying to figure out if there is a bubble.

I am analyzing the pattern of material no matter if I am looking to buy natos, leather or canvas strap.

I sort of want to see if the material and stitching is perfectly symmetrical. Not to mention the placements of stripes, especially in relations to the buckle hole. I can, within thirty seconds, convince myself not to buy it because of a microscopic flaw.

The Connoisseurship

We usually treat the word connoisseur as a compliment. Connoisseurship suggests taste, knowledge, and sophistication. But I just feel that there is a dark side to it.

When I say it’s the worst thing you can be, I mean that you evolve into someone who can only appreciate the absolute best of the best. You reach a point where 99% of things leave you disappointed.

If you aren't looking at the top-tier, hand-stitched, bespoke alligator strap, you feel like you're settling. If the finishing on the lugs isn't Lange-level perfect, it’s garbage. You narrow your window of happiness until it is a tiny opening that very few things can fit through.

Talking Myself Out of Joy

I can see the problem with this mindset. It turns a hobby into a source of anxiety. I found that I was talking myself out of everything. You get into this headspace where you are hunting for the Perfect One. You aren't looking for a watch to wear, but for an object that can survive a forensic audit. And because perfection doesn't actually exist (even in our silly world of watches), you end up upset, frustrated, or anxious all the time.

This obsession with perfection also can create some kind of fear. A connoisseur might own very nice watches, but do they wear them? Often, these watches are downgraded to safe queens, brought out only a few time per year. The fear of a ding, a scratch, or even the natural wear and tear of daily life outweighs the simple pleasure of experiencing the watch.

Untouched!

To be clear, I’m not saying this level of scrutiny is always wrong. There is absolutely a place where true connoisseurship makes sense, and where "the best of the best" is the only standard that matters.

Take Jean-Claude Biver, for example. In his legendary "Talking Watches" episode, he famously described one of his watches "Untouched! Untouched! Untouched!"

In his world that mentality is necessary. He is a titan of the industry, a top-tier collector dealing with museum-grade assets. When he is buying a Patek Philippe reference that costs more than a house, he has to worry about value retention. He has to consider investment value, future auction provenance, and asset movement. For a collector at that altitude, a polished lug or a service dial is a financial disaster.

But for the 99.9% of us? We aren't curating a portfolio for a Christie’s auction in 2050. We are enthusiasts who just want a cool watch to wear to the office or the grocery store. Adopting the standards of a billionaire asset manager for a $1,200 tool watch is a recipe for misery.

Catch and release

Now that I’m this far into putting my thoughts on paper, I’ve realized I feel this way because I’m never sure if a watch will be a "catch and release". If I want to sell it down the line, I worry that imperfections and dings will make it difficult to sell or reduce the resale value.

It's tough to break free

To get rid of the connoisseurship mindset I’m going to start by actually wearing my watches and letting them pick up the scratches that come with daily life. I also need to look past the spec sheets. Yes, the technical side is interesting, but I think it shouldn't overshadow how the watch looks, or the history. If a watch makes me want to look at it, that’s the only KPI that really counts. Gut feel is the best metric.

I also want to push myself to accept the "good enough" instead of chasing perfection. If I stop looking for reasons to say "no" and start looking for reasons to say "yes," then the whole hobby opens up again. A scratch on a lug means the watch was worn and loved. A strap that isn't perfectly stitched shows that a human hand made it.

I don't want to be a snob who is impossible to please.