Wearing a Girard-Perregaux Laureato Fifty to Craft's Final Service

aWhen Tom Colicchio announced on Instagram that Craft would close on June 27, 2026, after 25 years, my first thought, once the shock wore off, was of the friends I had made and the time I had spent there. Twenty-five years would be a long run for a restaurant anywhere; in New York, where the rent, the food, and every other cost of doing business run high, it verges on miraculous.

Craft, the flagship of Colicchio, the head judge of Top Chef, and the first of his restaurant empire, was a unicorn in the New York City restaurant scene. It opened in 2001 in the Flatiron district, into a restaurant environment that was thick with culinary hotspots and also teeming with casual and accessible food from all over the world. It quickly earned a James Beard Award for Best New Restaurant in 2002 and became a popular destination known both for the elegant simplicity of its food, which showcased the ingredients and put them first, and the warmth of the service staff who brought it to the table.

I first went to its sister restaurant, Craftbar, in early 2006, because it too was known for its team's warmth and welcome, as well as the sourcing of its ingredients. Much of the produce for both restaurants came from the Union Square Greenmarket a few blocks away, which draws local farmers and producers from across the region's foodshed, with fresh, seasonal produce often harvested right before the producer brings it to the market. I quickly found a home there and made my way around the corner to Craft, where I dined at the bar as often as I could, and found a community of other regulars who formed what I can only call a sort of chosen family, the kind that forms around a shared interest. It was not until later that I understood the parallels between a community built around breaking bread and one built around a shared hobby like watch collecting. Over the years, I shared meals there with friends and watch collectors, wearing everything from a vintage Tudor Submariner to an Omega Speedmaster to Jaeger-LeCoultre Geophysic (and, of course, snapping wristshots along the way).

It was at that L-shaped metal bar at Craft that I met a delightful couple, Patrick and Martin, in 2016. I had just come from a company holiday party and had a tiny Santa hat bobby-pinned precariously on the top of my head, like a fascinator at a very ridiculous Christmas-themed British wedding. They commented that it would look good on their small dog, a Yorkie named Hera, and so I gave it to them with the condition that they send me a photo of her wearing it. Thus began a decade-long friendship that led to many shared meals and the discovery that we shared not only a love of Craft, but a mutual love of watches. After our initial meet-cute over a Santa hat for a tiny pup, we would always compare watches whenever we met up for dinner.

Each of them secretly reached out to me separately for advice on a Christmas present for the other. This led to a wild game of mid-dinner subterfuge on several occasions, with me furtively showing watch photos to Martin while Patrick stepped away to use the restroom. I took Patrick shopping, and selected a few pieces for him to choose from; he tried one on, exclaimed that Martin wouldn't like it, but he did, so I texted Martin with a "suggestion" on which watch to purchase. On Christmas morning, I received individual texts from each of them, incredulous that I had managed to pull off such a feat of horological holiday deceit. Later, I helped Martin pick out a pre-owned Patek Philippe Calatrava as his fiftieth birthday gift to himself.

The last service was bittersweet. Regular diners came from near and far, and Colicchio moved between the kitchen and the dining room, stopping at tables and chatting with customers and staff. The mood was a reunion as much as a farewell.

I had worn the Girard-Perregaux Laureato Fifty on purpose. It marks the fiftieth anniversary of the Laureato, which echoed the restaurant's own milestone, and its clean lines suited the metal bar top; the 18k gold Clous de Paris dial, in a rose tone, picked up the room's brown leather and warm, vintage-inspired bulbs, and when I turned my wrist the hobnail pattern shifted between gold and shadow. At 39mm and only 9.8mm thick, it had all but disappeared on my wrist through dinner.

I finally got to sit with Martin and Patrick. Both have attended events at RedBar, the global watch collector community I lead, and they clocked the watch the moment I sat down, turning it over to study the in-house Caliber GP4800 behind the sapphire caseback, its 18k pink gold oscillating weight and balance bridge good for a 60-hour reserve. Then the three of us took a wristshot at the bar, the meals and the watches finally in one frame.