‘Stopped looking’

My dear brother is (in many respects) the kind of weirdo I wish I could be.

If you read my earlier post on my watch collection, you will know that I have spent a lot of money buying and selling watches, and today I have six in active rotation (plus two more in a drawer to sell, actually).

By contrast, my dear brother bought an Omega Aqua Terra a decade ago and has never seen a compelling reason to get another watch.

He’s right, of course: the Aqua Terra is (before the price went stupid) an excellent one-watch collection, with everyday styling, practical water resistance, and good specs. Think of all the time and money he has saved, just by being happy with what he has!

I still can’t help but think he has missed out on a bit of a journey and the chance to learn what it’s like living with some very different watches, but I do feel a swirl of envy at his ability to be content.

Long before I started this blog, my brother and I compared notes about the concept. As he reminded me in an Instagram comment this week, his title for this blog would have been ‘stopped looking’ — basically, it would cover products that are so good they end your search for anything better.

There is a different way of interpreting those words, if you take it out of the context of a hobby, where you’re an expert and a hound for excellence. Imagine the opposite: when you buy a product that you’re not an expert in, or that is not central to your experience of the world. As long as you buy something decent — not cheap junk, nothing that will fall apart or be a pain to use — it will probably be good enough. And you’ll stop looking.

For me, one example springs to mind: my Belomo loupe.

If you don’t know what a loupe is, it’s a simple small magnifying glass, used by jewelers, watchmakers, and (in my case) fountain pen nib technicians — anyone who quickly needs to get a closeup look at a small object.

I keep my Belomo loupe in my desk drawer, and I whip it out any time I need to tune a nib (or help my kids extract a splinter, identify a bug, or whatever). It’s very useful to me, I keep it nearby, I appreciate its quality construction and how damned useful it is. The image quality is nice, the pebbly finish is tactile, the hinge hasn’t loosened, it feels good To hold.

Yet the Belomo is my first, last, and only, loupe purchase in at least ten years. I bought it for $30 back in 2017, and I have literally never thought “wow, I wish I had a different loupe”, or “I wonder if there’s a better loupe out there” or “maybe I’ll start a loupe collection”.

This must be how normal people feel about watches and fountain pens. Freaks.

I am certain, I would put money on it, that there are better loupes out there. I bet there are some by Leica or Zeiss that cost 10x as much and are 10x as good. There are binocular loupes, illuminating loupes, proper microscopes, all that jazz.

But after I bought the Belomo, I stopped looking. Does that say more about the object, or about me? I’m not sure.

This is the model I bought, from this store. It’s now $46 and out of stock.