Vianney Halter’s Antiqua Has a Younger Sibling, and It Went Antiquing

When the Futur Antérieur landed at my desk I could barely contain my excitement. I am all too familiar with Vianney Halter's brilliant Antiqua, upon which this Louis Erard collaboration is based, and the idea of a roughly $6,000 approachable variant coming to market sounds brilliant knowing the Antiqua trades for $200,000 the rare times one comes up for grabs at auction.

The watch raised the question: Where to go, what to do? And then it hit me. Why not wear the Antiqua's sibling to an antiques market? Why not take an especially odd watch on a side quest to find oddities and curios? I grew up on a healthy diet of estate auctions and markets, and I'd recently heard that Toronto's St. Lawrence Antiques Market had moved into a newly built hall. It felt like kismet, and despite my recent mobility restrictions after back surgery, I knew I could swing it and had already been craving a little adventure. It had been ages since I'd hit up any of the local antique shows, and despite being well settled into my apartment after a year and a half, there's always room in my home for another random conversation starter, so off I went.

As a seasoned market-goer, I entered with a plan. Lap the perimeter, weave through the midsection, engage with preliminary interest on anything that catches my eye, then return for a second discussion once I've laid my eyes on everything in the room. Even before I began the route I could tell it was going to be an interesting day. The first table I hit was piled high with a mixture of costume jewelry and basic sterling silver pieces. Next to it, an oddly dressed mannequin stared at me, standing beside a tin pedal car. At that same second booth, a display case held an assortment of pocket watches, a brass abacus, and what I believed to be a pedometer. Now that I'm reflecting on my photos, I'll need to return to this vendor soon; it turns out the smaller pendant watch in the case was produced by Bucherer, and I need to take a closer look.

St. Lawrence Market in downtown Toronto has been a community anchor for over two centuries, being a center of commerce for the city. It has since evolved into more of a tourism destination, though it still houses a few of the downtown core's best butchers, as well as a few other niche food suppliers. The Antiques Market at St. Lawrence first sprang up in 1991, occupying the North Hall until the building was slated for demolition and redevelopment. Now that a brand-new North Hall has been constructed, the market returned in full force earlier this year, albeit under new management.

As I made my lap a few things became clear: while technically the vendors in the room were vetted, this was by no means a deeply vetted show of proper antiques, and perhaps something between that and a higher-end neighborhood flea market. There was nothing modern or brand new in the room, with the exception of the occasional piece of jewelry; several tables were just a mishmash of stuff. That said, I didn't come up empty handed. I've been drawn to wearing more rings of late, and at one vendor's table something caught my eye. Clearly a costume piece, the ring's curving geometric form screamed mid-century modern, and though its marquise-cut stone was no doubt glass, the size and sparkle were enough to lure me in. A C$40 (about $29) sticker price turned to C$30 (about $21) cash, and I couldn't say no.

Further proof of the mixed quality of vendors was visible in the caliber of watches on offer, other than the aforementioned Bucherer pendant watch. The Futur Antérieur seemed wildly out of place near the piles of quartz watches listed as "one for $20, two for $30." The closest things to a luxury watch on display were a vile knockoff of a Jacob & Co 5 Time Zone and the severely oversized Cartier Crash knockoff that I wish I'd photographed. None of the watch vendors seemed to even notice Vianney Halter's masterwork, though it did get the occasional glance from fellow shoppers.

Those who know of my ongoing obsession with bronze and brass will understand how my second acquisition came to be. Amidst a table of miscellaneous hardware, figurines, tchotchkes, and other useless relics rested a brass cigarette case. A quick glance out of curiosity revealed a stamping of the name Evans, and a quick Google search revealed the Evans Case Company, once based in North Attleboro, Massachusetts and known for manufacturing cigarette and lighter cases, costume jewelry, and novelties. The company was around from the '20s until the '60s, and this was clearly a later-production product based on its construction. The case would match my brass Zippo and fountain pen perfectly, as well as act as an effective way for me to limit my smoking to a set number of cigarettes each day. Another C$25 (about $18), and I was on my way.

Though I was enjoying my finds thus far, nothing I'd found quite screamed "oddities and curiosities" the way I'd intended until my last stop. What on earth was I looking at? A set of shelves held an assortment of small-to-medium-sized animal forms decorated in bright yet crude enameling. Upon closer inspection the curios appeared to be incense holders. Perfect, I thought, as I had just recently stumbled across an old incense set gifted to me by Grand Seiko several years back. A quirky little owl caught my attention, with eyes that could only be described as "I've seen some shit." I didn't bother haggling over its C$20 (about $14) sticker.

With the sun starting to set, my back beginning to resume its protest, the Futur Antérieur on my wrist, and my bag filled with my three discoveries of the day, it was time to head home, but not before a pit stop for a pint, and a moment to reflect on both the watch and the day.

38mm across, only 8.85mm thick, and fitted with conventional articulated 20mm lugs, the new watch is just about perfect on paper, and in the metal it just sings; Halter's quirky steampunk design fits these proportions spectacularly, and the move to articulating lugs makes it quite the strap monster. Within half an hour of its arrival, it landed on a tan single-pass fabric strap in place of the supplied leather; the stock blue ostrich leather is supple and well-matched to the watch, but it was immediately clear to me that the Futur Antérieur is by no means bound to dressier strap pairings.

In retrospect my acquisitions matched the watch to a T: Its practicality and legibility were reflected in the cigarette case, its touch of "sparkle" (the decorative use of gold-plated rivets and brightly blued hands) reflected in the ring, and its irrefutable oddness mirrored by my new little hooting pal. I'd call that mission accomplished.

The purpose of Go Do Something is to wear a watch through a real experience and see how it holds up. The watch was loaned by Vianney Halter for this column.