The Speedmaster with the Golden Seahorse
Some watches you chase for years. Others fall into your lap when you least expect it. For me, the Omega Speedmaster 1957 50th Anniversary Edition was a little bit of both—a grail I’d long written off, and then one day, there it was.
I bought this watch back in 2018, almost by accident. It was my birthday, and I had just received my first real career bonus—the kind that feels like a validation of years of hard work, late nights, and second-guessing. I wasn’t planning on buying a watch that day. I was simply killing time at a local watch shop I often visited, chatting with the owner, Cove, as I usually did.
For years, I’d admired the Moonwatch. Like many watch nerds, I grew up fascinated by the space program, and the Speedmaster was always this timeless, functional, almost mythical object. But I’d missed out on the 1957 50th Anniversary Edition when it was released in 2007 (Ref. 311.30.39.30.01.001) paying tribute to the original ‘57 Broad Arrow Speedmaster.
That day, Cove casually mentioned he’d managed to acquire two of them—one for himself and one extra. It felt like fate tapping me on the shoulder. I wasn’t looking to spend that bonus on a watch, but after some good-natured haggling, I bit the bullet. It felt impulsive, maybe even irresponsible at the time. But sometimes, the best purchases are the ones you don’t overthink.
On paper, this Speedmaster isn’t dramatically different from other models. It’s a 42mm steel case with a black dial, powered by the hand-wound Caliber 1861 movement—the same movement used in many Moonwatch models.
It doesn’t have the sapphire display back I’d always dreamed of—the so-called “crystal sandwich” configuration that lets you admire the movement ticking away. But what it lacks in exhibition flair, it more than makes up for in details that only the people who really know Speedmasters will catch.
The dial is where the magic lives. It features a rich red Omega logo and "50th Anniversary" along the top, and most notably, a tiny golden seahorse logo nestled subtly in the middle. It’s the only Speedmaster dial to ever carry this motif—a nod to Omega’s classic caseback medallion. It's a design detail so under the radar that most people glance past it without a second thought.
And honestly, that’s what I love about it.
It’s perfect on every strap.
The thing about this watch is how stealthy it is. To most people, it’s just another Speedy—nice, but nothing that screams limited edition. But every so often, someone in the know catches the glint of that gold seahorse or the flash of red text and asks, "Wait, is that the Anniversary edition?"
It becomes an instant conversation starter, but only with people who genuinely love watches. It’s a quiet kind of exclusivity, the opposite of flex culture. No one’s going to stop you at an airport lounge or a café because you’re wearing this. And I like it that way.
I’ll be honest: This watch probably sees less wrist time than my Rolex Sea-Dweller. The Sea-Dweller is a tank—ready for anything, built like a submarine, and sometimes just easier to throw on without a second thought.
But whenever I wear the Speedmaster, I remember why I bought it. It feels fresh. It feels intentional. It reminds me that sometimes it’s good to pause, appreciate the smaller details, and not worry about what’s “better” or more expensive.
It’s also the watch I’m more comfortable travelling with internationally. There’s something liberating about knowing you’re wearing something special that no one’s looking to snatch off your wrist.
One of the best parts of owning a Speedy is how versatile it is. I usually wear mine on the original steel bracelet, which has that solid, old-school Omega feel. But when I want something more casual, I throw it on a James Bond-style Omega NATO strap. It completely changes the vibe—lighter, easier, almost like wearing a vintage field watch rather than a space icon.
Time check in Brussels on the way to get delirious.
And then there’s the ritual.
There’s something beautifully analog about manually winding a watch each morning. It forces you to pause, to slow down, to physically connect with the start of your day. No smartphone, no automatic winding rotor—it’s just you, the crown, and those smooth clicks as the mainspring tightens.
It’s one of those small, grounding habits that reminds me why I fell in love with mechanical watches in the first place.
Looking back, that spontaneous purchase on my birthday in 2018 feels less impulsive and more inevitable. I was at the start of a new chapter in my career, celebrating my first real financial win, and stumbled upon a watch that marked both a milestone for Omega and, in a small way, for me too.
The Omega Speedmaster 1957 50th Anniversary Edition isn’t the most valuable watch I own. It doesn’t get the most wrist time. But it’s still one of the most meaningful. Because in the end, the best watches aren’t the ones that shout. They’re the ones that quietly remind you how far you’ve come.