For most of the twentieth century, the history of the personal watch appeared to be moving in only one direction: out of the pocket and onto the wrist.
Then, during the late 1960s and early 1970s, something rather unexpected happened. Several great Swiss manufacturers—including Omega, Longines and Universal Genève—began producing pocket watches once again.
These were not simply reproductions of Victorian or Edwardian timepieces. Many were slim, clean and unmistakably modern, sometimes powered by movements originally designed for wristwatches. The pocket watch had returned, but it had been reinvented for a very different generation.
The wonderful irony is that the wristwatch had itself evolved, at least in part, from the pocket watch. Half a century later, the process was being reversed.
From the pocket to the wrist
The wristwatch was not invented during the First World War. Watches worn on the wrist existed considerably earlier, particularly as jewellery for women, while purpose-made men’s wristwatches had also appeared before 1914.
The war did, however, transform the wristwatch from a relative curiosity into an essential and socially acceptable piece of men’s equipment.
A pocket watch was perfectly practical in civilian life, but considerably less convenient on horseback, in an aircraft or in the confined conditions of a trench. Reaching beneath several layers of uniform to retrieve a watch was awkward, particularly when a soldier might also be handling binoculars, maps or a weapon.
A watch worn on the wrist could be consulted immediately.
Early military wristwatches retained much of the appearance of the pocket watches from which they had developed. Their round cases were often fitted with wire lugs, while the enamel dials, prominent Arabic numerals and small seconds displays would have been familiar to any pocket-watch owner.
Some early examples were adaptations, but many wartime wristwatches were purpose-made. What the conflict truly changed was public perception. Millions of men saw officers wearing wristwatches, and those who returned home wearing one had little reason to place it back in their pocket.
The wristwatch had proved itself. By the middle of the twentieth century, it had become the normal way to carry personal time.
The pocket watch becomes old-fashioned
As wristwatches grew more reliable, affordable and varied, the pocket watch gradually lost its practical purpose.
It also became associated with an earlier generation. The heavy watch chain, substantial hunter case and traditional waistcoat belonged to a world of railwaymen, doctors and Victorian gentlemen. By the modernist 1950s, carrying a pocket watch could appear distinctly old-fashioned.
The Swiss watch industry concentrated increasingly on the wrist. Movements became smaller and slimmer, automatic winding grew more common, and manufacturers developed watches for diving, aviation, motorsport and everyday dress.
The pocket watch appeared to have completed its journey into history.
Fashion, however, rarely travels in a straight line.
The Peacock Revolution
During the 1960s, British menswear underwent a remarkable transformation. The conventional dark suit remained, but it was joined by brighter colours, patterned fabrics, velvet jackets, high collars, flared trousers and increasingly adventurous tailoring.
This movement became known as the Peacock Revolution. Designers including John Stephen and Michael Fish helped challenge the restrained uniformity of post-war menswear, while London became one of the centres of a new, more expressive male style. The Victoria and Albert Museum describes it as a period in which the traditional template of the tailored suit gave way to far more flamboyant possibilities.
Importantly for watchmakers, the waistcoat also returned.
Three-piece suits, Regency-inspired clothing and other historical references became fashionable again. Once a man had a waistcoat, he also had somewhere natural to carry a watch—and a chain provided another opportunity for personal expression.
The pocket watch had unexpectedly found its way back into contemporary fashion.
Not an antique, but a modern accessory
The pocket watches produced for this revival were often very different from their nineteenth-century ancestors.
Traditional pocket watches were frequently substantial objects, with thick cases, enamel dials and movements designed specifically for the larger format. By contrast, many watches of the late 1960s and 1970s adopted the design language of contemporary dress wristwatches.
Cases became slimmer and less ornate. Dials were pared back to simple baton markers, fine hands and discreet signatures. Acrylic crystals and stainless-steel cases appeared alongside precious metals, while some designs experimented with geometric or unusually shaped cases.
They were pocket watches seen through the eyes of the Space Age.
Most fascinatingly, manufacturers could make use of compact movements developed for wristwatches. Rather than filling the entire case in the traditional manner, a relatively small calibre could sit inside a larger pocket-watch case, usually supported by a movement ring or spacer.
This was not necessarily a compromise. A proven wristwatch calibre was slim, dependable and familiar to service departments. Its compact dimensions also allowed designers to create a much more elegant case than would have been possible with a large traditional pocket-watch movement.
Omega’s manually wound calibre 601 is a particularly good example. Better known from the company’s wristwatches, it was also placed inside wonderfully restrained pocket watches during this period. Surviving examples include the 44mm De Ville reference 131.1714, with examples dating from around 1967–69. The result was unmistakably a pocket watch, but one with the proportions and visual simplicity of a contemporary dress watch.
Omega was not alone. Longines and Universal Genève also produced elegant pocket and pendant watches during the period, ranging from restrained circular designs to thinner, more decorative pieces. Each manufacturer interpreted the revival differently, but the underlying idea was similar: the pocket watch could be made relevant again without pretending that the previous fifty years had never happened.
The wonderful reversal
There is a pleasing symmetry to these watches.
The earliest wristwatches borrowed heavily from pocket-watch construction. Movements and dial layouts migrated from the pocket to the wrist, while cases gradually evolved to suit their new position.
By the late 1960s, that journey had effectively turned around. Movements perfected for wristwatches were placed into watches designed to be carried in the pocket once again.
The descendant had returned to its ancestor.
Yet these later pocket watches were never quite the practical necessities their predecessors had been. A Victorian pocket watch was an everyday instrument. Its 1960s counterpart was more likely to be a deliberate style choice—an object selected precisely because most other people were wearing watches on their wrists.
That distinction gives them much of their character. They combined the ritual of an earlier age with the engineering and design confidence of the post-war period.
Taking a watch from a waistcoat pocket, opening or turning its case and reading the time is a slower, more considered action than glancing at the wrist. By the late 1960s, that slight inconvenience had become part of the appeal.
A brief moment between two revolutions
The revival would not last indefinitely.
During the 1970s, electronic and quartz watches began changing the industry far more profoundly. Timekeeping became cheaper and increasingly precise, while digital displays offered an entirely new vision of modernity. Against that background, a manually wound pocket watch was always likely to remain a specialist choice.
That is also what makes surviving examples so intriguing today.
They occupy a narrow and easily overlooked chapter in watchmaking history: after the wristwatch had decisively replaced the pocket watch, but before quartz technology transformed the market. They are neither traditional antique pocket watches nor conventional vintage wristwatches.
Instead, they represent a brief period when fashion allowed the past to return—and Swiss watchmakers responded by redesigning it for the present.
Why they remain special today
A late-1960s or 1970s pocket watch from Omega, Longines or Universal Genève offers something genuinely different from the more familiar watches produced by these houses.
Their movements may be recognisable to a watchmaker, but their presentation completely changes the experience. The larger dial gives even a minimalist design considerable presence, while the slim cases feel unexpectedly refined beside the heavier pocket watches of previous generations.
They also make wonderfully engaging conversation pieces. Each one contains two histories: the original movement of time from the pocket to the wrist, and the much less familiar journey back again.
These watches remind us that horological progress does not always mean abandoning what came before. Sometimes an old idea simply waits for the right clothes—and the right generation—to make sense once more.
