Made in minuscule numbers, Cartier’s most captivating design experiment from the 1960s was always destined for fame. Here’s how it became one of the world’s most desirable million dollar watch
Pay just a minimal amount of attention to the watch world, and there will be one timepiece that you’ll no doubt come across: the Cartier Crash. This watch has not only captivated the imagination of the horological heads, but that of the mainstream. Much like the Patek Philippe Nautilus (which generated cultural fervor in November 2021 with its Tiffany collaboration) or the Audemars Piguet Royal Oak (which turned 50 years old this year), the Crash has seemed to achieve household name status – without the help of any brand-manufactured development or milestone to celebrate. Rather, the Crash, which debuted in 1967, has been seeing a resurgence in popularity amongst serious collectors and newly minted enthusiasts due to a perfect storm of hype.
I first discovered the Cartier Crash in 2020, shortly after I launched the Dimepiece Instagram account. (Remember, I’m relatively new to watches if you’re scoffing at my late discovery!) Overnight, my explore page became inundated with watches – Aquanauts, Tanks, Datejusts. I was scrolling through mindlessly until I came upon a photo of two wrists decked with two of the most beautiful, unusual pieces I’d ever laid my eyes on. I clicked through to the image, posted by dealer and collector Eric Ku, casually captioned: “Too much wine.” I feverishly poked around his page, seeking any information on these watches and soon learned the name “Cartier Crash”, and how important the “London” is at the 6-hour marker.
But before we get into that, let’s set the record straight: how did the Crash come about? Rumors and tall tales circulate the scene, some crediting its surrealist design to the maison’s fascination with Salvador Dalí’s “Persistence of Memory” (1931). Another, more bewitching story is that the inspiration for the watch came about when a client brought in a deformed Cartier Baignoire Allongée, recently melted from the fire of a car crash. But in “The Cartiers: The Untold Story of the Family Behind the Jewelry Empire”, author Francesca Brickell Cartier indicates that the Crash resulted from collaborative work led by her grandfather, Jean-Jacques Cartier. At the time, the Cartier business had been split amongst three international branches, with locations in Paris (where it was founded), New York and London – Jean-Jacques at the helm of the latter from 1945 to 1974.
Picture, now, London in the Swinging Sixties: a city in bloom, shaking off the cold austerity lingering from the Second World War. The Beatles, Twiggy, sexual liberation, the mini-skirt. Imaginations and libidos were running rampant, exploding color into the streets; and people were craving personal adornment to match the mood. Enter leading man du jour, actor Stewart Granger, who demanded a watch “unlike any other.” Up for the challenge, Jean-Jacques Cartier worked closely with designer Rupert Emmerson on shaking up the popular silhouette of the Maxi Oval, tweaking and pinching it to look as though it had been in a crash.
After many iterations, the design was approved with Jaeger-LeCoultre on board to consult on an appropriate movement. The design then was passed to a workshop of craftsmen creating a workable template made from sheets of gold that took far longer than the thirty-five hours dedicated to a standard watch case. At last, the piece was sent to Cartier London’s head watchmaker, Eric Denton, tasked to fit the case with a movement, dial and winder. Imagine this daunting, near-impossible feat: “The first Crash watch caused a lot of headaches,” recounted Jean-Jacques in “The Cartiers.” “You see it’s all very well coming up with a good-looking design, but it had to tell the time too! And because the dial was irregular, the numbers weren’t at the standard places.”
Days upon days and multiple attempts later, an early Crash was sold to Stewart Granger, who brought it back after a week, deciding it was too unusual after all. Granger, lad, what were you thinking!? Cartier London wound up creating only about a dozen Crash watches (with Paris following suit with another limited edition run) hence why “London” at the 6 is what collectors today drool over. The first London piece sold for a meager $1,000 (approximately $7500 today), and due to the sheer amount of hours put in at the workshop, Jean-Jacques admitted regret at pricing it so low. “But you simply couldn’t charge too much then,” he explained in “The Cartiers.” “There wasn’t that much wealth going around. When I see what they go for today, oh my!”
“Oh my” is right. In May 2022, the record for costliest London Crash had been surpassed, jumping from $841K (when it sold at Sotheby’s in 2021) to $1.5M in under a year. Online auction site Loupe This (founded by none other than Eric Ku) hammered a 1967 London Cartier Crash for that jaw-dropping amount. “Even in its most recent iterations,” Mr. Ku wrote to me, “The Crash has always been produced in minuscule numbers, making it an instant collectible, and being able to buy one is akin to winning the lottery.” Good luck with that Powerball.
I asked Phillips Watches specialist Isabella Proia about why she thinks the Crash has garnered this much rabid interest. “What has happened at auction, and in the secondary market,” she wrote to me, “is the confluence of those things which make the most desirable watches desirable. With the highly limited production and audacious design from a renowned brand such as Cartier, examples in amazing condition with clear provenance are bound to set and break records.” In other words, the Crash – the London Crash in particular – is made up of the perfect formula, which we see repeatedly, albeit rarely, in the watch world. Consider the Paul Newman Daytona, blessed with that same combination of limited production, provenance and design pedigree. And much like the Daytona, the value of the Crash has – many will agree – been significantly bolstered by celebrity. Instead of Paul Newman, the Crash has been jolted into relevance by a more contemporary clientele.
One of the most stunning paparazzi photos I’ve ever beheld is that of Kanye West and Kim Kardashian, peering over a balcony flanking their $14M Miami condo in 2019. At first glance, you see a Crash on Kim’s wrist, her lips pursed as she shields her eyes from the sun. A Crash on one of the most famous, if not the most famous woman in the world… But, look! There’s Kanye, his arms by his side, slightly obscured by the balcony’s glass shield, and a Crash graced upon his left wrist. Two Cartier Crashes on two of today’s most influential pop culture figures. Certainly, this has something to do with the Crash’s soaring notoriety. Then, there’s Tyler, the Creator, who’s become ever more public-facing with his growing collection of vintage Cartier. Out of all of his incredible pieces, he performs most frequently with a Crash on his wrist, which is, to me, probably one of the most punk statements in the world. Sweating and growling and singing on stage to thousands of adoring fans piled together in a mosh pit, with a Crash on the wrist. It makes my heart flutter.
@cartier the crash watch designed by the CEO of Cartier in 1967 @nickwoodhouse wearing the
— ye (@kanyewest) December 14, 2018
Ecrou de cartier with symbolizes the transformation of the ordinary to the extraordinary the nuts and bolts of Cartier pic.twitter.com/wrgMmWtPGY
In so many ways, the current time we’re living in is not unlike the Swinging Sixties, when the Crash was first unleashed into the world. This moment is defined by political unrest and revolution, and in the aftermath of worldwide lockdowns, a lot of us are coping by shaking shit up and expressing ourselves. As another financial crisis looms and clean-lined cutesy, millennial marketing is shoved down our throats, it only makes sense why we’d be drawn to the oddball Crash, an experiment in design that endures ever still. “Its appeal lies in its simple yet complex design and construction,” Eric Ku explained of the watch he described to me as destined for fame. “It’s a constant reminder to the wearer to not take time… so seriously.”
Editor's note: The banner image for this feature is illustrated by @bjoernaltmann.
