* 2024: The author "predicted" that Cartier would release something related to the Tortue that year.
* 1929: The year in which the 1929 Platinum Cartier Tortue Monopusher chronograph was made.
In The News:
For the 25th Anniversary (and return) of one of Cartier's best modern releases, it's worth seeing where the idea came from.
This year it's Turtles all the way down for Cartier (not just a Hindu and Chinese phrase referring to the "World-bearing Turtle," but also the name of one of my favorite bars in Brooklyn). While Cartier released other things beside a new set of Tortues, it certainly was the centerpiece Cartier Privé release at Watches ⁘ Wonders. Tony did a great job covering the release in a story worth reading, but I felt it's worth revisiting the original – no, not the 25-year-old CPCP piece, but the real original. It was also the most photographed watch on a wrist at Watches ⁘ Wonders, I'm nearly certain.
When I was in Parma in March, it was clear that the Tortue was the next thing coming from Cartier. I had heard rumblings for a few months, but I still voted with my heart when I "predicted" Cartier for 2024 . I still hold out hope that the Maxi Oval will come back. So, while I was there, I asked Mr. Auro Montanari (a.k.a. John Goldberger) if he would be willing to bring out a watch I'd long hoped to see in person: a 1929 Platinum Cartier Tortue Monopusher chronograph – the only one made.
There are eight known Cartier Monopusher chronographs from the era known, seven in yellow gold and this one in platinum. The watch comes with interesting provenance. The watch formerly belonged to Giorgio Serganoli, the man behind the "White Cartier" collection that exists in (very rare) book form. For Cartier collectors, a former Seragnoli watch is often quickly noted by its blue Alcantara strap (though obviously it's no guarantee). Montanari pursued this watch for a while, but at the time, Seragnoli had unlimited resources and liked to use them to ensure he had things no one else did. Eventually, he had to let the watch go. Let that be a lesson: it's never the last chance.
While we didn't open the watch in the hotel lobby, the watch is powered by a European Watch Co. movement, a photo of which can be seen below. The movement is a mass of bridges and levers that makes it remarkable the thing even still works. But it does. I got to start, stop, and reset the watch as much as I like. The minute counter doesn't jump, but rather slowly, incrementally moves forward, as he showed to me. What's the use of having a watch if you can't use it?
