My Dad Gave Me a Solid Gold Longines. The Leather Strap Had to Go.

A few months ago, my dad surprised me with a vintage Longines. He had seen it with its solid gold case and immediately thought of me, leaving it in my apartment to discover when I got home from a trip. It was from 1959, with gorgeous Art Deco-inspired geometric indices. I was in love, but the beat-up brown, no-name leather strap that came with it had to go.

I hit a wall: as a years-long vegetarian, I had sworn off wearing leather long ago and I wasn't about to compromise that. Since I started collecting watches, my mindset was gold-tone bracelet or bust: I outright dismissed anything with a strap. But as I stared down at that Longines, the worn strap seemingly as old as the timepiece itself, I knew it was time to start rethinking what was possible.

When I first began my exploration into timepieces, I was interested in the concept of watches as elevated jewelry. Since I wore mainly gold jewelry, bracelets simply made sense. Nearly a year in, I continued to see watches as jewelry above all else, but the way I expressed that had changed.

It started with size. I reevaluated how larger cases looked on me based on my evolving understanding of lug width. Next, I became enamored with vintage models, loving the sense of heritage they held and the cool-girl aesthetic I could achieve with them. And finally, the look of the leather strap started to hold some appeal.

The concept first hit me when I wandered into an Hermès boutique with my sister in the spring, there for the free coffee alone as she tried on replacement straps for her Cape Cod watch. As I sipped my cappuccino and gave my opinion on colors, my thought process started to shift. The leather strap looked good on her, giving the watch a casually chic appeal. 

So after I got my own vintage piece and looked up its history using the reference number engraved on the inside of the caseback (with its 17 jewels and mid-20th century, manual-wind mechanical movement), I decided it was time to dive into Google.

I quickly discovered Hurtig Lane, a cruelty-free, Barcelona-based brand with a line of vegan watch straps that would perfectly complement my vintage piece. Each strap, built with clip release pins, was sold by lug width. Out came the measuring tape. After determining I was working with 18mm lugs, I placed the order for a classic black strap with gold hardware, excited to change things up and add some variety to my previously one-note collection. A few weeks and $53 later, it arrived, and I eagerly brought it to my local watch repair shop to switch the straps out (doing that on my own feels a bit beyond my skill set at the moment).

The more often I wore it, the more I discovered I really loved the look. I found myself gravitating toward it, choosing it over flashier models I had. The simple black strap complemented pretty much anything I wore, and enhanced the watch’s dial. The strap wasn’t perfect (it felt a bit stiff and plasticky, and I would spend time trying to shape it by wrapping it around a bottle when I wasn’t wearing it), but suddenly, there was a whole new world of options open to me.

That's how I later found myself browsing the stalls in London's Grays Antique Market, considering watches I never would have previously looked at. I now knew I could replace the strap with a vegan leather alternative as simply as popping a pin. So I wasn't prepared for when reality came crashing in: the gorgeous 21mm, cushion-shaped manual-wind Omega from the 1930s I had walked away from in September. It was stunning, and I had been ready to hand over my credit card, but when I turned it over, I noticed something I had never seen before: the strap was folded over fixed lugs, secured in place with a loop, rather than the spring bars I had come to know.

I hesitated, unsure if I could find a non-leather strap in that style. I called my mom for advice from New York, loitering in the doorway of the market as I hemmed and hawed, trying to make a not-inexpensive decision. Ultimately, she suggested if I wasn’t sure, I should wait—this was a lot of money, after all, and she was being the voice of reason—and I left empty-handed. But I wasn't ready to give up completely.

I turned to Etsy, messaging sellers who offered vegan leather straps and asking if they could modify it to fit this type of construction as a hypothetical. The results were mixed, but one seller gave me hope, saying that yes, it could likely be done.

I knew sending messages online would only get me so far, and I needed to hold the material in my hands to truly understand what was feasible. I ended up at WatchMe Amsterdam, stealing a few moments during a work trip to the city to talk about custom watch straps.

The small shop, located steps from the Canal District, made completely customizable straps in a variety of materials, including apple leather, constructed from a combination of apple peels, stems, and fibers, and backed with cork. Pliable and soft to the touch, it mimicked the feel of leather in a way my previous vegan leather strap hadn't. And at €135 ($150), it wasn't too cost-prohibitive. I ran my fingers over the supple material in shades of black, taupes, different browns, and pink, and held the colors up to my wrist to get a feel for what they'd look like on me.

What I hadn't considered was the longer lead time. They quoted three to four weeks to order, making it impossible to buy right then and there as I was only in Amsterdam for a few days. But it got me thinking.

Not only had I started to love the look of a "leather" strap, but I was now more aware of the different materials out there, realizing a lot more possibilities existed than I could have previously dreamed of. I once again looked up that London Omega only to find it sold out on the website. That ship had sailed, but I had learned an important lesson: no watch was truly off-limits just because of its strap, and no strap would ever hold me back again.

I vowed to refocus my efforts on that Must de Cartier I had been lusting over. I no longer needed to worry I wouldn't be able to find a strap to go with it. And armed with a list of sellers in Paris for my trip in December and a newfound understanding of what was doable, I couldn't wait to go shopping with purpose.