Before I start my review of the Méraud Antigua, I must ask, can a watch break your heart? I think so. When I say “heartbreak,” I don’t mean how we fawn over grail watches that we know we will never be able to afford (or justify). That’s lust. I don’t mean the watch that gets us all excited when we see it launched, so we order it, and when it arrives, we learn that it isn’t quite as special as we thought. That’s infatuation. No, by heartbreak, I mean the experience of falling in love with a watch, appreciating its beauty, and understanding its quirks. Then, when you have bonded with the watch and believe you could be happy with it forever, you discover that you must part ways, never to meet again.
Ok. I’ll admit that may be a tad overdramatic, but since you obviously spend your spare time reading watch reviews, I suspect you, dear reader, might empathize.
The Méraud Watch Company of Ghent, Belgium, is committed to making vintage-inspired watches at an affordable price. They are not alone in this endeavor. Honestly, I can’t even tell you how many times I’ve reviewed watches that draw upon decades-old designs. Mind you; this is not a bad thing. I love a good retro-styled timepiece in all the permutations that might take. Some go for the 1:1 homage, while others look to an old design as a muse to create something entirely new. Many incorporate classic styling cues into more modern watches, while a few build new watches from caches of NOS parts recovered from forgotten basements and store rooms like time capsules. For the Antigua, Méraud took a beloved but obsolete movement (Landeron 248), fitted it to a case with vintage lines in a modern size (40mm), and completed it with a dial that marries the aesthetic sensibilities of the 1960s with those of the 2020s.
Let’s start with the heart. The Landeron 248 is a 17-jewel, 18k bph, cam-switched chronograph introduced in 1937. This hand-winding movement was a common workhorse used by many brands, including Heuer, until 1970, when it went out of production. As such, it is not uncommon to find it in antique pieces but far more challenging to find an ample supply of new and unmolested units. The folks at Méraud spent two years tracking down an adequate supply for the 200 watches they would build, plus spares. Regular readers know that I am a sucker for that kind of tale (if you doubt that, see my reviews of the Circula Heritage and Havaan Tuvali Heritage 72). Each movement has been overhauled, and the Méraud logo is engraved on the bridge. After going through all that trouble, it would be a crime not to show it off. You can see it through the sapphire exhibition window in the case back.
Perhaps my favorite aspect of the 248 is its feel: the long travel on the crown, the positive snap of engagement when you depress its buttons, and even the mechanical click when winding. It is not as smooth as a new Valjoux 7750, but immensely satisfying. It’s like this: after decades of shifting gears like a real driver, I finally gave in and bought a car with an automatic transmission. It’s great. It’s got multiple modes and a manual override and probably shifts gears better than I can, but I miss the light thrum I used to feel through a clutch pedal and gearshift that made me feel connected to the vehicle. Winding this old Landeron imparts a similar sensation.
Many brands that attempt to replicate a vintage feel fail in their case proportions. Méraud got it right. The Antigua is a modern 40mm wide, 48.6mm long, and 13.5mm thick, and yet, it looks and feels sleek, even though it maintains a contemporary presence on my 6.75″ wrist. The watches of yesteryear tended to be smaller and thinner than today. Indeed, thanks to the whims of fashion, the typical pre-1970 men’s watch is closer in size to a women’s watch now. Using a manual movement certainly helps, but several design factors are at play here.
That stout thickness includes a generously domed sapphire crystal, which does much to advance a retro look, but little to provide the illusion of size. The designers employed some tried-and-true techniques on the case to trick your eye, like longitudinal brushing on the sides to emphasize length, broad polished bevels to lean out the lugs visually, and a generous undercut below to hide that last millimeter or two. The result is slim and a comfortable fit on the wrist, thanks to the case’s curvature.
While vintage in style, the Antigua gives up none of the modern conveniences. The watch is water resistant to 100m, its sapphire crystals have an anti-reflective coating, and while the lume may have an antique color, it has a brand-new glow.
The Antiqua’s bezel is polished, coin-edged, and has a sapphire insert of black with tan. The action is dead-on, requiring just the right amount of pressure and rewarding you with well-defined clicks as it makes its 120-position unidirectional rotation.
Méraud drew upon the regatta style for the dial with a big eye minute totalizer at 3 o’clock and a small seconds at 9. Large dauphine hands filled with creamy lume and a lollipop second hand continue the throwback theme. A finely delineated tachymeter index and minute track give way to applied and polished bar markers topped with dots of lume. The dial then opens up to an uncluttered center that immediately takes your eye to the to larger register with its stark contrast and colorful sections. Two dials were made, a finely grained “Soft Sand” beige and a high contrast “Miho Black.”
Both dials employ pale orange and powder blue as accent colors. If you imagine they were once conventionally bright colors that have faded over the years, they tie quite well to the creamy aged lume color. This time-worn palette works on both dials, albeit to different effect. On the black, the lighter tones make the simple compass needle small seconds and second hand pop while presenting lower contrast and better integration against the silver subdial. On the sand, the black big eye is the most vibrant element on the face, and the small seconds is muted, which makes the dial seem a bit cleaner and more open. I think the sand is the prettier, and the black is the more functional.
Méraud’s choice of typeface takes the whole thing to another level. Attractive lettering is a rarity in the watch world, and period-correct lettering even more so. I love the fine lines, the tiny serifs, the exaggerated upturn on the 2s, and the gentle taper in the logo. It’s perfect.
The Antigua comes standard with two 20mm/16mm straps in tropic rubber and leather, fitted with signed buckles. Buyers can also get a riveted 3-link bracelet as a $138 accessory. I got to sample the straps and was impressed. I tend to be ambivalent about rubber unless it is of particularly high quality, and these straps made the cut. They are soft and pliable, have a lovely sheen, and are dead ringers for that 60s style.
For the leather, Méraud teamed up with the French atelier Molequin. The straps are slim and impeccably constructed from nubuck with a calf lining. They look fabulous and fit the Antigua’s overall theme quite well.
Méraud sells the Antigua for $1,924, well, the black one, anyway. All 100 units of the Soft Sand edition have sold. The best you can do on the Soft Sand is add your name to a waitlist and hope for a cancellation.
And that, my friends, is the heartbreaking part. My time with the Antigua was brief but meaningful. While I appreciated them both, I truly fell for the understated Soft Sand dial with its whispers of orange and blue. Alas, that limited edition has reached its end, so when I send the review samples back to Belgium, it will not be au revoir but adieu. (Sigh.)
If the retro yet refreshing Méraud Antigua appeals to you, I recommend you do not hesitate. Head to meraud-watches.com and snap up one of the few remaining Miho Black models. Your heart will thank you.
