It’s been almost ten years since we’ve started the Two Broke Watch Snobs podcast and when I sit back to think about that, I can’t help but realize how much this hobby has monopolized my time and headspace. It’s not really a bad thing, well not all the time. But this year I really tried to be mindful about how much this deep interest impacted my day-to-day life, especially all the time that it takes up between family and work obligations. The truth is—and I think deep down we all know this—watch collecting is an exceedingly unnecessary endeavor when you think about life at a macroscopic scale.

Add to that the endless scrolling through social media, YouTube algorithms recycling the same predictable thumbnails, every site rehashing the same product releases (yep, we’re guilty), and the constant pressure to spend money on the next “must-have” piece—it’s no surprise that you eventually start asking yourself: Why am I doing this?

This reflection isn’t about quitting the hobby—it’s about recalibrating my relationship with it. Watches, for me, have always been about more than just the objects themselves. They represent stories, moments, history, and connections. But somewhere along the way, it’s easy to lose sight of that. The relentless churn of content and the temptation to chase trends can transform what should be a joyful pastime into a draining cycle of consumption. So this year, I’ve been asking myself some tough questions: What does watch collecting mean to me now? This site? This podcast? What do I actually want from it all in 2025 and beyond?

Content consumption in 2024

While it may not necessarily be because of this hobby, I found myself falling into some pretty bad habits this year. Like many watch enthusiasts, social platforms like Instagram have been central for the sake of expression, knowledge sharing, and keeping in touch with others in the community. Between that reality and the big 2024 news developments here and across the globe, doomscrolling—and an atrocious daily average screen time—became a real problem for me. One evening, as I sat silently next to my wife on the couch, I realized something unsettling: instead of engaging with her, I was mindlessly scrolling through an online chat with other collectors—a thread I had already read earlier that day. What was I even looking for? A new notification? Some quick dopamine hit? The next morning, I deleted my profile, wiped its data, and uninstalled the app from every device I owned. I’ve done this with a few other similar apps as well.

This brings me to one very dark side of modern watch collecting enthusiasm. So much of the way this hobby has evolved over the last decade almost requires you to live within a digital ecosystem to make you feel as if you’re getting the absolute most out of it. “I need to know what the best microbrand purchase is right now. I need to see what everyone online thinks about the movement in this new GMT.” And for casual content creators, the pressure to stay locked in that ecosystem is even worse—an endless cycle of keeping up, posting, and consuming, all to maintain relevance in a community that never stops moving.

Thankfully, the tail end of 2024 saw me distance myself from this part of the hobby quite a bit. But this kind of move requires a level of modulation. Our TBWS Instagram, for example, is a graveyard with a complete dumpster fire of an inbox. Admittedly, this might have been an overreaction on my part. I still see value in the content and connections that platform can offer, but there has to be personal moderation. The current state of that page reflects exactly how I feel about it: “Why should I even bother engaging in this?” I hope that in 2025 I can find a healthy way to approach this balancing act while still engaging with a community that has brought me so much joy in the past.

Intentional collecting

Luckily, one of the things I didn’t fall for in 2024 was the hardcore FOMO so many of us experience in this hobby. Looking at my own personal requirements, I don’t feel as if I went overboard with my purchases—unlike I did in 2022 and 2023, where I definitely picked up pieces just because they were hyped on social media. Saying “no” to releases this year—that would have pushed me over the edge in the past—was incredibly refreshing. And as hard as it was, I think I’ve positioned myself to navigate the hobby more intentionally in 2025.

A result of this was the complete end of obsessing over the most optimal “completion of a watch box.” The diver, driver, flyer concept doesn’t even seem that appealing anymore. I had lists, spreadsheets, pieces in categories on paper—all with the aim to ensure that I completed a collection that covered every archetype of a watch that felt important to me. It was absurd. One thing that helped? Actually giving some of those watches away to friends. I wasn’t selling anything in order to scheme and plot a future purchase but instead—drawing out the poison of obsession while kindly sharing a hobby with important people around me.

For the first time in a while, I also feel genuinely disconnected from the watch industry’s PR cycle. I’ve “missed” many new releases recently, and surprisingly, that distance has allowed me to appreciate the watches I already own much more. Don’t get me wrong—there’s absolutely nothing wrong with striving for the perfect collection. But the way I was approaching that goal definitely needed a serious shift.

Believe me, this isn’t an effort to signal some kind of superior zen-like state I’ve achieved. I still have a new addition to the collection in my sites for 2025 but my hope is that it will be the only one for the year. Maybe some of these new habits I’m documenting here will actually make that a reality. “Yeah Mike, we’ve heard that before.” Me too. But the reality is that 2025 will also bring a shift in my personal finance goals, education, and the way I allocate my budget towards a different hobby that’s recently captured my attention and watches will really need to take a back seat. It’s unfortunately a real wallet bruiser, for those in the know. Maybe I’ll dive deeper into that on the podcast one day. That’s all to say that 2025 hopefully sees a continued trend of me cutting back on watch-related purchases, while allowing for other key areas of my life to flourish.

The idea of being a content creator (mostly) doesn’t sit right with me

Stepping back from the PR cycle also felt oddly at odds with the notion of being a so-called “watch content creator.” It’s a title some people in this space love to throw around, and frankly, I can’t stand the self-importance attached to it. Honestly, why would anyone care about what I have to say? I still don’t fully understand it. While I deeply appreciate our podcast listeners and website readers, I’ve found myself wrestling with a disconnect. My dissatisfaction with the broader watch content ecosystem in 2024 muddied the waters for me. This struggle manifested in several ways—sporadic updates, missed opportunities to improve content quality, and an overarching sense that I wasn’t meeting the standards I had set for myself.

This is a big one for me: I’ve come to realize how often I let perfection stand in the way of progress. There’s immense pressure to deliver a certain caliber of content in this space, but let’s be honest—you’re not likely to get there with two nerds juggling full-time jobs, a child, marital commitments, extended family obligations, and the fact that life just happens. I’ve had to accept that Christopher Nolan-level video production isn’t on the horizon. Videos will be quick and scrappy, the podcast will occasionally have rough edges, and that’s okay. The sooner I accept some of these realities, the faster I’ll be able to achieve an ideal future state across this site, our podcast, and the rest of our online properties.

Where we go from here

Looking ahead, I’ve come to see that the real value in this hobby lies not in chasing trends, amassing likes, completing some arbitrary collection checklist, or crushing the Baldassarre turtleneck fit check. It’s in the quiet moments of joy that watches can bring—texting up a storm with a buddy eager to find that first affordable mechanical or reconnecting with your first Seiko, if you still have it. Watches are, at their best, timekeepers for the moments that matter. By distancing myself from the noise and recalibrating my approach, I hope to keep this passion rooted in meaning rather than consumption. It’s not about being perfect in my choices but about being present in my experiences.

So as I enter 2025, my goal isn’t to stop collecting or creating content—it’s to do so with purpose. Whether that means making fewer but more meaningful purchases, engaging more thoughtfully with the community, or embracing the imperfections in what we produce for TBWS, I want to reclaim this hobby as something that adds value to my life, not detracts from it. If this past year has taught me anything, it’s that balance isn’t something you find—it’s something you build. And I’m ready to build a version of this hobby that works for me, not the other way around.

2 thoughts on “Finding Joy in Watches Again: Plans for 2025 and Beyond”

  1. Excellent, thoughtful article Michael! It definitely hit the mark for many of the issues we wrestle with on multiple levels as collectors, enthusiasts, and watch geeks. Keep up the great work and best wishes for 2025.

    Reply
  2. Rest assured that I’ll download and listen to your next podcast drop, whenever it may be. We miss you guys, but also understand and respect the approach. Your down to earth style is what makes you both worth listening to. Have a great 2025.

    Reply

Leave a Comment