It started with one Seamaster.
The one I sold
The one I found again
A mid-1960s Omega Seamaster De Ville. Six hundred dollars, and it would not wind. I bought it anyway, because I loved the Ranchero-style dial and that spare military look, and because six hundred dollars was what I had. It was not an investment and I never pretended it was.
I got it running, wore it for years, and eventually sold it to fund the next one. That watch paid for another, and that one for another. Years and a fair number of mistakes later, the line that started with that Seamaster ends at a Patek. Not quickly, and not in a straight line. Every step was the same arithmetic: is this worth saving, what does saving it cost, and what is it worth once it runs.
I also regretted selling it almost immediately, and spent years hunting for another. Last autumn I found one, near enough identical, and it is on my wrist as I write this. Both are Seamasters, incidentally. In the mid-sixties De Ville was still a Seamaster sub-brand rather than a collection of its own, which is why the older dial carries both names. Which tells you something about how this hobby actually works, and why the next section says what it says.
I am not a dealer with a showroom and I have never had capital sitting idle. Each watch paid for the next one. I built this to flatten the learning curve, because the knowledge that makes that possible is scattered across forums and often held by people with an interest in you not having it.
What I wish someone had told me
You do not need a Submariner to be a collector. A well-chosen vintage piece at a few hundred can be more interesting, more personal, and better value than anything in a boutique window.
"Needs service" scares off most buyers, which is exactly why it is where the value sits, provided the parts exist and the work is worth doing.
Restoring is not the same as making it shiny. The wrong intervention costs more value than it adds. Knowing the difference is most of the craft.
If vintage is where you want to stay, stay. Nobody has to graduate to anything.
The hardest part is not the money. It is watching a friend strap on a shiny new steel diver and fighting the urge to match it. That impulse has cost more collectors more money than any bad repair.
The value is in the hunt, and in having something to say when someone asks about your watch. A story you earned beats a boutique receipt every time.
And find people. I learned more in a small horological club that meets once a month than in years of reading forums.