The Cartier Panthère I Dismissed Became My Dream Watch, One Size Up.

Copious amounts of espressos were doing their work. I had just gotten off a redeye flight and, as my sister and I stepped onto Pieter Cornelisz Hooftstraat in Amsterdam, I was jittery.

Only it wasn't just from the caffeine. Along with eating my weight in cheese and seeing the spring tulips in bloom, at the top of my Amsterdam itinerary was to look for a watch and I was about to walk into some of the most high-end boutiques in the world.

I had shopped online. I had shopped in resale stores, like the RealReal. And I had shopped in airport boutiques. But this was different.

These were the types of stores you typically needed an appointment for, and we definitely hadn't booked ahead. Instead, we were determined to try the "smile and ask nicely" approach since I was genuinely nervous to book one when my only goal was to look, not buy.

Walking past some of the biggest names in watches and jewelry, Chanel, Gucci, Tiffany, and more, we made a beeline for Hermès. My sister had recently received her very own luxury watch (a 23 mm Cape Cod model), a gift from our mom, and was interested in exploring new straps for it.

A sales associate greeted us the moment we walked in and shuttled us to the second floor, waving off our apologies for coming without an appointment. She offered us a drink and I ordered yet another coffee that came served in gorgeous Art Deco teacups with the cutest horse-shaped sugar. And as I sipped my cappuccino while my sister compared leathers, I let my gaze wander.

First, I considered the mini Faubourg Polka watch, its 15 mm case set on a slim jewelry bracelet that I knew would sit delicately on its own or as part of a stack. Then, I turned my attention back to the single vs. double wrap debate my sister was having. Never having been into leather bands myself, both as a vegetarian who doesn't wear leather and as a matter of style, it was an interesting thought experiment to wonder if I could ever see myself wearing one some day. And the more I stared at it on her wrist, the more the look appealed to me.

In Hermès, the pressure was off because I wasn't technically shopping for myself, and I was enjoying being surrounded by beautiful things. But our next stop would be just for me: Cartier.

I had been coveting Cartier watches for months. I visited the website so often that my browser immediately led me there when I simply typed in the letter "c." And while I had briefly stepped into an airport boutique to try on the Baignoire, I had yet to walk into a standalone brick-and-mortar store, sit down, and really shop.

Inside, we strolled around the beautiful cases for a moment before being led to a seat in the back, the sales associate once again graciously dismissing our apologies for not making an appointment. I then happily accepted yet another coffee (redeyes are brutal) and explained what I was looking for. My dream was to buy my very own watch to mark my upcoming milestone 40th birthday. I wasn't necessarily looking forward to the milestone but it did feel important. Marking it with a monumental purchase gave me something to look forward to instead of dreading the date. But before I made the investment, I needed to be absolutely, 120 percent sure which style I liked. I was between three: the Panthère de Cartier, the Tank Française, and the Tank Américaine.

I was upfront about my intention just to look, not buy, even if I remained self conscious about it, but the associate was kind and helpful nonetheless.

To start, I asked to try the small model Panthère in both gold and two-tone. First designed in the 1980s and worn by icons like Princess Diana, the Panthère evokes a refined and feminine look with its delicate bracelet. Only as soon as I put it on, it didn't feel like me. It was too dainty for my style and while beautiful, I immediately knew it wasn't my beautiful watch.

Next, I tried on the mini Tank Américaine, an elongated version of the classic Tank with a geometric bracelet that walks the line between edgy and feminine. It quickly felt more "me," but I still wondered if I liked the curved case, which I'd learned Cartier calls galbé, the same word engraved into the DNA of the Santos Galbée I'd borrowed from my father, or if I preferred it flat. I snapped photo after photo, comparing the different styles. The sales associate even encouraged me to get up and see how it sat on my wrist while I stood in the mirror.

After nearly an hour, I said thank you and left, business card in hand and ready to stroll the Canal District. But as I walked down the street, I carried with me a modicum of guilt for feeling like I wasted their time, knowing I never had any intention of buying a watch that day. However, as I swiped through the photos that night (I'd been in Amsterdam for a day and had captured just three photos of the city and eight photos from watch shopping to show for it), I realized this was just part one in my search.

I couldn't reasonably be expected to drop thousands on what would undoubtedly be the most expensive purchase I'd ever made without first trying on multiple styles, multiple times. Scrolling the website and drooling over internet photos would only take me so far. I had to touch each watch, feel how it sat on my wrist, and sit with the photos I'd taken of the watches on my own wrist, not an internet model's. And as I settled into that knowledge, the guilt started to subside a bit. Just enough, in fact, to have me plotting my second visit to a Cartier boutique on my next jaunt to Europe, Barcelona this time.

Weeks later, I once more walked in sans appointment and sat down to debate anew the finer points of which dream watch was my dream watch. I was in for yet another surprise when, simply for comparison's sake, I tried on the larger, medium model gold Panthère. Suddenly the whole feel of the watch transformed, the larger style somehow balancing the femininity of the band against a bolder edge. It was now the best of both worlds: a watch I could wear on its own or stacked, to an evening event, or even during the day thanks to its simple elegance.

It startled me how simply trying a different size could change my whole outlook on a style. And I knew I'd only continue to learn.

At last, I tried the small Tank Française, which I had practically convinced myself was going to be my watch. But imagine my shock when it felt completely wrong. It was too chunky, too matte. And if anything, it cemented my decision to lean toward the Panthère.

I could almost promise there would be a part three, four, or even more in my quest to pick the perfect 40th birthday gift for myself (I'd already spent more time than I'd care to admit comparing photos from my different visits of the sizes and models I'd tried on), but I was determined to continue enjoying the journey as much as the eventual reward.