What Exactly Are You Paying For When You Buy a JMR Watch?

Let's get something out of the way.

I'm not sitting in a workshop in the Swiss Alps, wearing a magnifying loupe and hand-carving tiny gears out of precious metals.

I'm usually at my workbench in Michigan, surrounded by watch parts, with three daughters and their four friends somewhere in the house making enough noise to drown out a jet engine.

And I'm not going to pretend otherwise.

So what exactly are you paying for when you buy a JMR watch?

Fair question.

The short answer? A mechanical watch assembled by hand, built from components I've carefully selected, and designed around a story that probably had no business becoming a watch in the first place.

The longer answer is a little more interesting.

It Starts With the Parts

I'm not manufacturing my own movements. I'm not forging stainless steel cases or growing sapphire crystals in the basement. Although, if my wife gives me another corner of the house to take over, I wouldn't rule anything out.

I source watch components from suppliers and put together combinations that I think make a great watch.

That means selecting cases, dials, hands, bezels, bracelets, and movements that work together both mechanically and aesthetically.

Most JMR watches use reliable automatic movements like the Seiko NH35 or Miyota 8215. They're proven mechanical workhorses. They don't require batteries, they're serviceable, and they've earned their reputations by doing what a watch movement is supposed to do.

Tell the time. Consistently.

I also look for quality materials where they matter. Stainless steel cases, sapphire crystals, and components that feel substantial on the wrist.

Could I find cheaper parts? Absolutely.

Could I find more expensive ones? You bet.

The goal isn't to build the cheapest watch possible or to stuff the most expensive components into a case.

It's to put together something I'd actually want to wear.

Then Comes the Part Where I Try Not to Break Anything

Once the components arrive, the real work begins.

Movements need to be fitted. Dials need to be aligned. Hands need to be installed, which sounds fairly straightforward until you're trying to place a seconds hand onto a pinion approximately the size of a human hair.

There's a special kind of frustration that comes from spending twenty minutes trying to accomplish something that looks like it should take four seconds.

And every once in a while, a part doesn't fit, a hand needs to be reset, or something that looked perfect in my head turns out to look considerably less perfect in real life.

That's part of it.

I assemble each watch myself. I check the alignment, fit the components, inspect the finished build, and make sure everything is functioning the way it should before it's ready for someone else's wrist.

It's meticulous work.

It's occasionally maddening work.

And for reasons I still can't entirely explain, I genuinely enjoy it.

The Story Usually Comes First

Here's where JMR gets a little different.

Most of these watches don't start with me studying market trends or deciding which colors are going to sell best.

They start with something that happened in my life.

The Pin High came from playing golf with my dad. Those rounds where the sun is getting low, you probably should've gone home two holes ago, and neither of you is in any particular hurry to leave.

The Positano Notte came from an anniversary trip to Italy with my wife. Espresso, red wine, lemon trees, and a town on the Amalfi Coast that somehow made its way into a watch design.

And then there's The Coconut.

That one came from giving my three-year-old daughter a bath.

More specifically, from staring at a bottle of coconut curls shampoo while she was busy turning the bathroom floor into a federally designated flood zone.

Somewhere in that chaos, I thought, I bet I could make a watch look like a coconut.

A few months later, I had one.

I understand that this is not a normal thought process.

But that's the fun of it.

Every watch has a reason for existing, even if that reason is occasionally ridiculous.

You're Also Getting the Guy Who Built It

JMR isn't a giant watch company.

There's no design department, assembly division, or conference room full of executives arguing about next quarter's product strategy.

There's me.

I'm the person selecting the components, putting the watches together, taking the photographs, writing these articles, and occasionally wondering why the website isn't doing what I told it to do.

If you have a question about a watch, you're talking to the guy who built it.

If you want something custom, we can talk about what you have in mind and whether I can make it happen.

And if something isn't right, I want to know about it.

There's a level of personal responsibility that comes with putting your own name on something.

Well, technically, JMR comes from the middle names of my three daughters.

Which means I've actually put their names on everything.

So I have three additional reasons to make sure I don't screw it up.

Is a JMR Watch for Everyone?

Nope.

And I'm perfectly comfortable with that.

If you're looking for a watch because you want people to recognize the logo from across the room, there are plenty of excellent options.

If you're looking for a particular piece of watchmaking history, there's an entire world of incredible brands to explore.

And if you're looking for the cheapest possible way to tell the time, the phone in your pocket has already won that competition.

But if you appreciate mechanical watches, enjoy something a little different, and like the idea of wearing something assembled by an actual person who cares about it, then maybe JMR is worth a look.

I'm not trying to reinvent watchmaking.

I'm certainly not trying to convince anyone that my workbench in Michigan is the new Geneva.

I'm just taking something I love, combining it with the people, places, and moments that mean something to me, and turning those things into watches.

Some of them are sentimental.

Some are inspired by travel, golf, or family.

And at least one exists because of a bottle of shampoo.

There are worse ways to spend your free time.

And if someone ends up wearing one of these watches for years, making their own memories with it along the way?

Well, that's the part you can't put on a spec sheet.

And it's probably my favorite part of the whole thing.