On that latter point, consider that the UR-120’s movement operates an elaborate mechanism much like a wandering-hours complication, but in this highly elaborate configuration, the mechanism makes the Vulcan salute practiced by Star Trek ‘s Dr. Spock and other Vulcans before uttering, “live long and prosper.” But don’t discard this movement as pure geekery, as there is also a deep horological tradition being honored and explored under the crystal.
Purportedly invented in 1655 at the request of Pope Alexander VII who couldn’t bear the ticking of his clock at night, Audemars Piguet picked up the wandering-hours mechanism in 1991, renamed it the “ Starwheel ” and used it in various watches for about 10 years. And with that, the wandering-hours movement, which rotates three discs around the dial and aligns them with a minute track for time-telling, was reborn in the late 20th century.
By 1997, Urwerk released its first watches at Baselworld, the UR-101 and UR-102 . Minimalist, and unlike much of anything seen before, the watchmaker caught the attention of the edgier side of the horological community. But the rather traditional wandering-hours mechanism in the UR-101 and UR-201 called for closer investigation by all serious collectors, who respected the mechanical achievement, if not the daring design. (In this regard, not much has changed for Urwerk today.)
In 2011, Parmigiani offered up a Toric Capitol with a “sector time display,” which is a wandering-hour complication. Harry Winston (with Urwerk’s assistance) dropped the wandering-hour Opus 12 in 2015, and in 2016 Arnold & Son put out a wandering-hour watch called the Golden Hour. In 2023, Audemars Piguet revived the Starwheel in their Code 11.59 line of round watches, bringing the wandering-hour revival full circle, so to speak.
For the very few brands that create one, the wandering-hour watch remains an occasional horological eccentricity. However, Urwerk has built its entire catalog—and, indeed, its whole brand—around the aforementioned mechanism.
By “opening” the wandering-hour “satellites,” Urewerk has transformed the wandering-hour mechanism into something entirely unique and very nerdy. Baumgartner and Frei have abandoned the three rotating discs of the standard wandering-hour complication in favor of a trio of paired cuboids. Cleverly—and with great mechanical complexity—these cuboids separate and rotate before coming back together to form a new number between one and 12. Just as the cuboids come back together, they enter the minute track and indicate the time.
It’s upon opening those cuboids that the UR-120 gets ultra-nerdy and gives us the Vulcan salute. Without a hint of detectible irony, Urwerk notes that those two cuboids, when separated to rotate, form a “V” meant to resemble the gesture made famous by Dr. Spock. Indeed, Felix Baumgartner and Martin Frei have taken one of the rarest complications to emerge out of the mechanical watch revival of the 1980s and ’90s and recast it as a tribute to Star Trek .
As if that salute weren’t enough, the body of the watch is decidedly similar in shape to the Starship Enterprise as flown by Captain James Kirk. I will confess I didn’t notice that right away, but nearly everyone else I showed the watch to mentioned it immediately.
How to Wear the UR-120 (With a Straight Face)
That there is a disconnect between the sartorial sensibilities commonly found at the Robb Report office and the sci-fi geekiness of the Urwerk UR-120 may seem obvious, but we really couldn’t overstate the size of this yawning fashion gap. On any given day, I see small, vintage, time-only dress watches, Rolex Submariners and GMT Masters, the occasional Hermès Arceau, Cartier Tanks, and a bevy of obscure vintage Vacheron Constantins. Our outfits, usually casually chic, work with these anachronistic watches. Only the occasional (and mostly shunned) Apple Watch kind of resembles the Urwerk, and no one I can think of dresses in a manner befitting the Urwerk, at least not daily.
My esteemed (and very dapper) colleague, Justin Fenner, had this to say about the UR-120: “As I was taking off my tiny 1980s Omega dress watch to put on this Urwerk model, I was sure I’d hate it—it looked bulky, felt heavy, and took up more visual room than I typically like to fork over for a timepiece. But once I had it on my wrist, I couldn’t stop looking at the engaging, inventive way it displays the hours and minutes.
And therein lies the trap of this watch: Even if it’s entirely not your style, you may end up fascinated. And once fascinated, you may not want to take it off. I went through exactly that.
On any given day, I’ll pair Gucci’s 1953 horse-bit loafers with a pricey Japanese denim work shirt, and maybe a vintage Rolex Submariner or a little gold dress watch. That’s generally my vibe: a postmodern mash-up of earthy, anachronistic styles that are diametrically opposed to the sci-fi fantasy suggested by the Urwerk UR-120. Every time I strapped the watch on, it was decidedly out of context, and I had a hard time keeping a straight face. (Freud theorized that laughter was our reaction to things that don’t normally go together.)
And even though I chuckled, like Fenner, I had to admit that the Urwerk was fascinating, but also that the juxtaposition between the sci-fi watch and my earth-bound garb offered up an unexpected pleasure. Over the week I spent with the watch, I settled into the inherent joy of defying norms—which, come to think of it, must be somewhere near the heart center of Urwerk’s raison d’etre.
None of this is to suggest that I don’t love Star Trek , however. I’m a long-time hardcore fan of The Next Generation series with Sir Patrick Stewart as Captain Jean-Luc Picard, as is my partner. We’ve watched every series and every movie with great enthusiasm. But a hardcore fan is not a hardcore Trekkie, and we would most certainly never play Star-Trek-dress-up and head to some convention full of cosplayers.
However, after my partner balked at the watch at first sight, I explained the connection to Dr. Spock, and they lit up. “Really? Wait, give me that back.” Reaching into the back of a closet, out came a gray knit dress with a black Atari Space Invader across the front, each stitch an eight-bit pixel. This was a weirdo-hipster garment we’d scored in a weirdo-hipster part of Brooklyn back when we were weirdo-hipsters. That dress and the Urwerk UR-120 were perfect together.
Given the watch costs $110,000, the idea that it would not regularly make it onto the wrist is a painful proposition, and that pain is only greater once you’ve realized how incredibly comfortable this watch is to wear. The disc-like, spaceship-shaped case forms a perfect curve against the bent wrist, such that the large watch disappears on the wrist. I can’t help but wonder what kind of impact this watch would have had on my wardrobe if I owned it, but I’m sure I’d be pulling the black turtleneck out far more often.
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