A Case for the No-Name Vintage Diver
Most vintage watches that are currently enjoying a rise in value are in such a position due to provenance and publication, in one form or another. The vintage market is one that has trends difficult to justify, because the value we place on each aspect of a watch is difficult to capture, and, I believe, somewhat persuadable. Watch publications have so much influence over what watches, especially vintage ones, are "in", that it's easy to get swept up in the hype. I believe this is the reason I've recently taken such a liking to my little vintage diver from the now-defunct company Ingraham. Nobody knows what it is, and that's what makes it so interesting.
I stumbled across the watch in a set of drawers that my dad's friend was getting ready to throw out. His father was a watchmaker, and had amassed a rather large collection of parts. Most had no real value (odd acrylic crystals, generic crowns, etc.), but one drawer held the Ingraham, a Vostok Komandirskie, and a Wittnauer Calendar watch. I've found that the Wittnauer was a bit too whacky to wear and the Vostok cried too loudly for attention, but the Ingraham ticks away humbly, rewarding those who notice its details and idiosyncrasies.
The most distinguishing feature of the Ingraham, besides its modest (dare I say perfect?) 36mm case is the dial and those enormous numerals. They remind me of those of the Oris 65 in a way that isn't too obvious. Just above the 6 reads, "shock protected" followed by "super waterproof", which might be my favorite dial text from any of my watches. Especially by today's standards of ingress protection, this boastful line is incredibly charming. The date wheel features exclusively red text over a white backdrop. I honestly didn't even notice it for the longest time, but as soon as I did it became another of my favorite quirks.
The hands, however, are dissimilar to those found on the Oris 65, and are in fact very similar to those on Rado's Captain Cook diver. The broad-arrowed hour hand is very legible, and the minute hand's pencil style matches it effortlessly. The seconds hand is tipped with a small arrow that draws from both the hour and minute hands, bringing the set together.
Moving up the watch, we find a modestly domed acrylic crystal with an internal cyclops for the date. The distortion it provides at the fringes of the dial is the type of thing that keeps you distracted at work, or makes you check your watch three times in a row before you actually know what time it is.
Then there's the bezel. Oh, that bezel. Friction fit, fully graduated, and perfectly worn around the edges. The gentle knurling is purposeful yet inviting to the touch, and the shallow profile and slope contributes to the watch's slim proportions.
This is the watch I'll happily choose to wear over my SKX or SRP, environment permitting, and nobody will ever recognize it. And that's okay. Watch enthusiasts are people with an eye for detail, and owning this Ingraham has taught me to notice every aspect of a watch. It sat in my own drawer for months before I even took an interest in it, but once I started noticing what it had to offer, I fell in love. Watch enthusiasts are also people who take pride in something most people will completely overlook. It's about self-fulfillment, not attention-seeking, and I think this Ingraham captures that ideology perfectly.
