Confessions of a Failed Watch Whisperer

They say the best definition of a consultant is someone who charges you a hefty fee, then takes your watch to tell you what time it is. Well, after three decades in the luxury watch and jewellery industry, I've learned that sometimes the most valuable insight comes from understanding not just what time it is, but why that particular timepiece matters and whether it's actually worth what you paid for it.

I'm Liam Devine, and I've spent the better part of my career wandering through the rarefied world of luxury, trying to make sense of an industry where a mechanical movement can cost more than most people's houses, and where the difference between "investment grade" and "expensive mistake" often comes down to nuances that escape even seasoned collectors.

My journey began somewhat accidentally in the early 1990s, fresh out of university with a political science degree and a vague notion that I might do something sensible in a large Swiss multinational. Instead, I found myself drawn into the peculiar ecosystem of Swiss watchmaking (not so surprising for an accidental Swiss), where I discovered that selling dreams wrapped in precious metals requires a curious blend of technical knowledge, psychological insight, and the ability to keep a straight face when explaining why complications are worth six figures.

Over the years, I've had the privilege and (occasional misfortune) of working with some of the industry's most iconic brands. I've helped reinvent venerable names like Universal Genève, launched audacious newcomers like de GRISOGONO, and even survived rebranding the Basel Watch and Jewellery Show as  BASELWORLD during the SARS crisis of 2003 (a masterclass in crisis management that no business school could have prepared me for).

What strikes me most about this industry is its beautiful contradictions. We celebrate mechanical ingenuity in an age of atomic timekeeping. We revere tradition while constantly innovating. We serve clients for whom a watch costing the price of a luxury car is considered an "entry piece," yet we're custodians of craftsmanship that connects us to centuries of human artistry.

Through roles ranging from CEO of various watch houses to building the QUINTESSENTIALLY luxury lifestyle brand across Central and Eastern Europe, I've learned that true luxury isn't about the price tag -it's about authenticity, craftsmanship, and the stories that give objects meaning. Whether it's understanding why a particular Patek Philippe reference commands auction premiums or decoding the subtle signals that separate genuine collector passion from investment opportunism, this industry has been my unwitting education in human nature.

These days, when I'm not writing about global affairs or contemplating the finer points of political commentary (my current pandemic-era pivot), I find myself increasingly drawn to sharing what I've learned about navigating the luxury market. Not as someone trying to sell you the next "must-have" piece, but as someone who's seen enough market cycles, collection disasters, and unexpected discoveries to offer perspective on what truly matters.

My Scottish roots probably help with the sceptical outlook - we're not easily impressed by flashy marketing or inflated provenance stories. Having spent years serving ultra-high-net-worth clients, I've learned that the most sophisticated collectors value honest advice over sales pitches, and that the best luxury experiences come from understanding, not just acquiring.

So whether you're a seasoned collector wondering about market trends, a newcomer trying to separate substance from hype, or simply someone curious about why people develop such passionate relationships with mechanical objects, I hope to offer insights earned through decades of both triumphs and spectacular miscalculations in this endlessly fascinating world.

After all, in an industry built on precision, sometimes the most valuable thing is simply knowing what time it really is.