This wristwatch, which has appeared on my blog several times before, is from a brand called Mahara that enjoyed a brief wave of popularity in the 1990s. The model is nicknamed “Guilloché” after the pattern engraved on its bezel.
It’s an automatic, powered by a movement from ETA, a company often used in designer and brand-name watches. If I remember correctly, the retail price was in the low 200,000 yen range—a rather ambitious price tag in hindsight. I personally picked it up secondhand at Houseki Hiroba in Shibuya for 110,000 yen sometime in the early ’90s. In the 2000s, the crown broke, and I had it repaired at a shop in Ginza. By that time, Mahara had already been acquired by Franck Muller and ceased to exist, and I was warned that sourcing replacement parts would soon become difficult.
Knowing that I wouldn’t be able to replace the strap, I lost motivation to wear the watch and left it tucked away in a desk drawer for many years. Still, the movement itself is just a standard ETA, which any good watch repair shop should be able to overhaul. So two years ago, I reached out to Tamtime , where I usually send my watches for service. As it turned out, there was no issue at all—they could overhaul it for around 30,000 yen, much cheaper than an Omega (and honestly, 70,000 yen for an Omega chronograph service feels overpriced to me). So, after a 20-year hiatus, I finally had it overhauled.
But when I started wearing it again, I noticed the power reserve was extremely weak. Being an automatic, it runs fine while on the wrist, but the moment I set it aside, it stops after just about a day. That makes it very inconvenient to rotate with my other watches. Perhaps the overhaul wasn’t done properly—but in any case, despite having spent money on servicing, I soon stopped wearing it again.
So why have I decided to bring out this old, worn-out watch again now? The answer is simple: I, too, have reached the age of sixty, and have myself become something of a veteran.
When you realize that your years as a businessman are numbered, it seems better not to hold back anymore—better to wear down the things you’ve lived with, like a pair of familiar shoes, until they finally give out. In practice, the leather strap will probably deteriorate within a few years, or perhaps the already unstable movement will fail before then.
Incidentally, Mahara watches from the same era, though with different dials, still pop up on the market from time to time. But they don’t seem to command much of a premium, so realistically speaking, selling it to a dealer or at auction wouldn’t fetch much anyway.
And so, whether I retire first or this watch gives up the ghost before me, it’s clear neither of us has all that much time left. For that reason, I’ve decided to let it serve one final duty as one of my main business watches—alongside my Casio Pro Trek—until the end.