The rose gold glints like memory—warm, consistent, slightly unreal. Even the clasp feels poetic. It opens with soft resistance, like the start of a new chapter. The water resistance? I tested it under waterfall mist. Still ticking. So am I.

The machinery’s reassembly to mimic original VC shows both ambition and restraint. Rotor architecture and bridge layout hold fidelity. The balance is crisp. The modified movement sweeps with refined cadence. Markings on the solid case back and folding clasp replicate vintage proportions. And the dial—the green ink isn’t printed. It’s invested.

I pair it with muted silks and matte emeralds. The green dial glows—a polished moss tone with presence.

The rose gold plated strap feels like fluid sculpture around my wrist. The date feels like a tiny window—a moment tucked behind beauty.

The case back is closed, but it doesn't feel hidden. It feels personal.

Every sketch I draw lately starts in tones this watch taught me.

This is my closer's watch. I wore it during a deal that involved three cities, two currencies, and a historic heritage site. People I come across with stare at it. I saw respect. I didn’t say anything. I let the watch finish the sentence.

The green dial isn't just a color—it's a forest echo. It reminds me of canopy depth in Baguio mist. Paired with rose gold, the casing feels like sun slipping through leaves. Every time I glance at the date indicator, I feel like I'm marking growth. The modification? Seamless. Smooth seconds, like vines stretching quietly. It’s not just a timepiece. It’s nature in steel.