Logan Baker: On Becoming A Watch Writer
Logan Baker’s journey reflects his deep passion for uncovering time’s greatest stories. From the auction circuit to the collector’s hunt, he explores how watches capture history and how he can continue to shape horology’s legacy.
I don’t believe anyone stumbles into horology by mere happenstance. The paths we take into this world are vast and varied, and those journeys often make for the best stories. After all, we’re shaped by the people we meet, the places we go, and the experiences we collect along the way.
My own journey continues to be about finding these stories—understanding how people got here. I’m on a hunt. A great hunt, if you will. A search for the best watch writers—the storytellers, the tastemakers, the ones who deepen our understanding and strengthen our connection to these objects that, when you really dig in, have both shaped and been shaped by every aspect of human history.
One such writer I’ve followed for years is Logan Baker, now Senior Editor at Phillips and formerly of Hodinkee.
Baker isn’t just someone I admire. He was the first person (outside of Jack) that I can remember acknowledging my work. The very first story I published for The 1916 Company covered a Phillips watch auction—one that included a gold G-Shock selling for nearly half-a-million dollars. Yes, you read that right, and I’ll say it again. A solid gold G-Shock for nearly half-a-million dollars… Anyway, Baker was the first to like it.
It seems small, but when you’re just starting out—especially in a niche as insular as watch writing—all it takes is one or two people to give you that silent nod, that subtle thumbs-up, to keep you going.
So, as I continue this journey of interviewing the cultural architects and writers in this beautifully obsessive world of watches, Logan Baker was at the top of my list.
Nowhere To Begin But The Beginning
Baker’s journey began in 2015 when he was a journalism student at NYU. At the time, he was an aspiring music writer, however, he was generally eager to be involved in any form of culture writing. And as one does in 2015, he stumbled upon an ad for an internship at a magazine called Watch Journal—which, if I’m not mistaken, no longer exists. Like many aspiring writers, he took the job and wrote for free.
When it comes to creative work, there’s no better education than doing. Well, that’s probably true of most jobs in life. You just have to do it. Baker interned for a semester, and when it ended, they brought him back—this time, with a paycheck.
“You know, it was essentially an opportunity to really dive into something interesting, something I felt I could make a career out of,” Baker said. What stood out to him about the watch-writing world—at least at that time—was the lack of young voices. Some might argue that’s still the case today.
“It just seemed like there was an opportunity for me to kind of make something of it. So by my senior year, I was working 40-hours a week at Watch Journal in addition to school.”
Like most of us trying to break into the arts, Baker learned that the hustle—often glorified in pop culture—isn’t just a cliché; it’s necessary. He would start work at 7 AM, put in a few hours, go to class, then return to work in the evening.
A common thread among everyone I’ve spoken to in this industry—at least, those who’ve reached any level of success—is that sacrifice. That grind. That understanding that you have to earn your words, so to speak.
Baker didn’t grow up around watches, and by his own admission, he knew absolutely nothing about them when he started.
“I didn’t even know the difference between quartz and mechanical when I started,” he admitted. “I just really threw myself in there. I wanted to learn everything. I wanted to meet everyone. I wanted to be in the rooms where things happened.”
Baker stayed at Watch Journal for two years before yet another opportunity popped up—this time with WatchTime Magazine (yes, pun wildly intended). Remember magazines? What a time to be alive.
For those unfamiliar, WatchTime was essentially the print version of Hodinkee before Hodinkee existed. Writers like Joe Thompson (who, let’s be honest, I probably mention too much—maybe I should just interview him next) called home for years.
“WatchTime was where I started to see just how global, how international, this industry truly was,” Baker said. “And that was really important to me—to see this international culture of watchmaking.”
It was this growing community—the likes of Jon Bues and Stephen Pulvirent—that Baker gravitated toward. So, when Hodinkee eventually reached out, and Baker saw that many of his friends and former colleagues were already there, he knew he was ready to take the next step.
The Hodinkee Days
Hodinkee called as they were setting up their shop, looking for someone who could bring that signature Hodinkee storytelling—the foundation of the company—to the items they carried.
“I was 24 at the time, and it just seemed like a great way to get in the door. I figured I was young, and, you know, it was a good opportunity to learn another side of the business.”
Baker was probably the fifth or sixth employee on the shop side, and at that time, they only carried nine brands. By the time he left, that number had grown to over 40.
“It was really educational because I saw the process of retail and, specifically, online retail, which was still in its early stages.”
Eventually, Hodinkee recognized that they had a budding storyteller and someone who could do more than just turn press releases into shop copy. They transitioned him into the full-time editorial team. By this point, Baker had been writing about watches for nearly eight years and, like all of us, was starting to find his groove—his niche in the world of watch storytelling.
But his time at Hodinkee wasn’t just about learning watches; it was about sharpening his craft as a writer. He credits Joe Thompson with broadening his understanding of the business side of the industry and Jack Forster with his technical prowess and storytelling ability.
“The life that Jack would give a watch in his writing was very special. And intimidating. I’m sure you are well aware of how intimidating it can be trying to write next to Jack.”
Oh, I am. I am well aware.
“It was a special time to be at Hodinkee.” The depth of knowledge in any given room amazed Baker. Right time, right place. Life is a series of moments—you make of them what you will. Baker seized every second in the room with the people who shaped modern watch media.
One of Baker’s key beats at Hodinkee was covering the auction circuit, a world that quickly opened his eyes to a new dimension of watch collecting. As someone who also covers auctions, I know firsthand that it’s a different beast from writing up press releases. The major houses of Phillips, Sotheby’s, and Christie’s, with Antiquorum and Monaco thrown in the mix—aren’t just selling watches; they’re shaping narratives, preserving legacies, and cementing history.
Some of the rarest, most museum-worthy timepieces pass through those rooms, each with a story waiting to be told. Covering auctions isn’t just about watches—it’s about the moments they create. We all remember when Banksy’s painting shredded itself mid-sale. We remember the banana duct-taped to a wall. We remember where we were when the Paul Newman Daytona hammered for $17 million. Hell, I even remember when Salvator Mundi sold for $450 million in 2017.
For Baker, this wasn’t just another assignment, it was a world he gravitated toward. The thrill of discovery, the weight of history, the sheer spectacle of it all. More than just reporting on results, he found joy in uncovering the stories behind the sales.
On To Phillips
Eventually Phillips came calling and Baker jumped at the opportunity for a new adventure and a new avenue to tell the stories of these objects, as well as an opportunity to really embrace the international culture that is inherent in the watch world by moving to Geneva.
At Phillips Baker’s education deepened beyond the beats he covered at Hodinkee. “I’ve done this for 10 years, every single day, and I still learn new things. One of the great things about working at Phillips is that I can focus on indies, modern watches, or vintage.”
As we talked about the difference between the commercialization of Hodinkee and the world of auction houses, it became clear that Baker has a deep-seated love for auction history. It wasn’t just another company giving him a platform to write; it was an opportunity to be part of something bigger.
“I love working the auction beat. It’s an old business—I mean, these houses have been around for 300 years, and they’ve essentially stayed the same that entire time. That’s remarkable, that they haven’t changed much and are still the best way to bring the highest-quality products to market. And how we get to do that is endlessly fascinating. There’s this tension—balancing modern marketing techniques on a foundation that’s existed for centuries.”
“Let’s say a standard auction has 150 lots—that’s 150 watches. That’s 150 stories of how each piece got there, and each person who views that watch will have a different perspective on it.”
Brands are constantly trying to push the narrative of storytelling. What’s different about auctions is that the stories go beyond a brand’s marketing — the watches Baker covers at auction come with personal histories. Stories a brand could never write. Maybe it’s an engraving, maybe it’s the collection it came from. It’s like the old adage: if these walls could talk. Well, you can’t take your house with you around the world or into meetings — but you can bring your watch. And when that watch eventually ends up on the auction block, people like Baker get to tell us the history it witnessed.
“You’re trying to explain why something matters to the biggest audience possible.” He continued. “What is this object trying to say at this point in time? Watch media misses that a lot because we get bogged down in specs. But you know, that story is just as important as whether something has 50 meters of water resistance or 120.”
On the auction circuit, it’s easy to conflate watches with art. We all do it. Maybe it helps us collectors justify the price tags. Baker sees the comparison but takes it a step further.
“There are two sides to the question: are watches art, or are they crafts? I personally believe they’re craft. Some watches can approach the realm of art, but the difference is in how they’re received. In watches, there’s rarely criticism of the maker—of what was going on in their life when they created a piece. You don’t really see something like grief translated into watchmaking, while in music or film, you can very tangibly feel those emotions.”
Baker continued, “And yeah, at the end of the day, it’s a material object. It’ll eventually be gone. But it’s also a way to express values, passions, and a personal philosophy—a way to see the world through a romantic lens, even if it’s through a material thing. It shifts the perspective beyond just dollar signs.”
Storytelling And Collecting
I was curious to know if, at this point in his career, Baker had any regrets—an opportunity missed, a press trip not taken advantage of, a story left unwritten or under-researched. It was refreshing to find out that he didn’t. However, if there was one thing he could have done differently, he said, it would have been to attend watchmaking school. Could there be any greater sign that he is a true watch lover and historian? I don’t think so.
That sentiment is something I think many watch writers feel—maybe not always openly admit, but certainly feel. Watchmakers are a rare breed, a fusion of engineer and artist. “Artist with a lathe” might be a more fitting description. And when we have the privilege to write about their work, especially from a technical perspective, only a select few—like Jack and Tim—truly grasp the nuances from the outset. A deeper understanding of the technical side is always valuable, which is probably why Jack once assigned me a story about reading George Daniels’ Watchmaking and how it deepened my appreciation for the escapement. Challenging yourself to understand the technical aspect, as well as the cultural impact, causes one to be a true custodian of horological storytelling.
The connection between storytelling and collecting is also reflected in his own watch collection. “I think some people forget you can collect on a budget if you want to,” Baker said. When asked to highlight some of his favorite pieces, he pulled out a selection of rare gems—watches that only those deep in the world of collecting would likely recognize, but also accessible to most budgets. But they also reveal something deeper: a collector with a distinct taste, one that has undoubtedly shaped his perspective and growth in the industry.
I knew from social media that Baker had posted a gold Ebel chronograph with an El Primero movement, which made it all the more fitting when I asked him to name some of his favorite stories—and the pieces that inspired them, he immediately noted a story on Ebel. Along with the Ebel, he pointed to a 1997 Minerva Pythagore and an Excelsior Park Monte Carlo—two under-the-radar but historically rich pieces in his collection. Collecting the big names is great, but these hidden gems—ones that only the truly initiated recognize—are what make this field so rewarding.
That passion for obscure finds ties into what Baker calls his “rabbit holes.” As we talked, we even found ourselves diving into a long discussion on Borgel watch cases, a niche but fascinating corner of horology. I’ll spare you the details but it was more riveting than you think.
Another one of the stories Baker highlighted as particularly meaningful was his piece on Jean-Pierre Hagmann’s workshop. With JPH’s recent passing, the article has taken on even greater significance. Hagmann was one of the last true artisans of classical casemaking, a legend in the craft. Covering his legacy—especially through his work with Akrivia—was a privilege for Baker, and it remains one of the stories he holds closest to his heart.
In the end, Baker’s philosophy on collecting and storytelling are deeply intertwined. He seeks out watches with stories, and in turn, he tells those stories—whether through his writing, his platform, or watching them come to life in the auction circuit.
Watch Media And The Next Generation
As our conversation continued, we dove into the ever-evolving and exhaustive discussion around modern watch media. It comes up so often among people deeply involved in the industry because it feels like we’re in uncharted territory. It feels as though there’s an undeniable schism: the blog world, long-form editorial, TikTok shorts, independent coverage, all at war with each other. There’s no single formula anymore. No one definitive way to tell the story, to view watches, to inform or to collect. We all feel that shift in the industry and no one truly knows what is correct.
I for one, believe the pendulum is shifting back to long-form editorial. I think people truly are looking for voices of authority who are more than just opinions and more than just someone who can throw out some SEO fodder.
Baker’s goal, as he sees it, is to take the stories he finds interesting—the “rabbit holes” he loves to fall into—and transcribe them for everyone. And something I truly admire about him is that he doesn’t underestimate the impact of having a voice in this industry. We are the tastemakers, the conduits shaping how people see this world.
From the suburbs of Houston, Texas to his new home in Geneva, Baker has been a cornerstone voice of authority in the watch world for many years. But to him, he knows the storytelling is never done. He also knows that through his journey it’s important to pass the torch to the next generation.
When asked for advice he said, “I know I sound repetitive, but watches are wonderful because there’s always something new to learn. Find what interests you, dig, dig, dig into it, and start weaving a narrative—tell the story… and be kind.”
What a journey, what a story, now on to the next falling gavel.