Every so often, a watch sneaks up on me and makes me buy it. I know this sounds like the weak excuse of a man with the impulse control of a cranky toddler, but it’s true. I’m actually quite deliberate in my decisions, and my ability to dither over even the smallest purchase is legendary in my household. And yet, every now and again, I see something and say, “I want that!” and that, my friends, is why I am wearing a Vero Workhorse Chronograph.
Vero was founded by Chris Boudreaux in Portland, Oregon, and has a string of winners in its stable, including the excellent Open Water. The Workhorse had already been out for several months before I saw it in person at 2023 Wind-up NYC, so I knew what to expect: puck shape, Miyota 6S21 Quartz chronograph movement, and earthy color schemes. I thought was a cool watch (I was right) but maybe not all that different from a few others in my collection (I was wrong). Encountering the watch at a live event exposed me to two key elements: the subtlety of its seemingly straightforward design and the infectious enthusiasm of its designer, Matt Smith-Johnson.
I’ve followed Matt’s @teenagegrandpa Instagram account for years and have seen his work develop from handcrafted leather straps on Etsy to watch collaborations with Seals, Deitrich, Laco, and Vero. With the Workhorse, he took some aesthetic chances that paid off handsomely, and listening to him explain his decisions convinced me that this was a watch I wanted – no, needed to buy. I can’t possibly convey his passion, but I can tell you how his watch won me over.
The Workhorse Chronograph’s stainless steel case is 44.5mm wide, 49.5mm long, and 13.5mm thick. Those are mighty imposing numbers, especially for a guy like me, whose wrist is only 6.75″ around. Then consider the tiny lugs, the apparently smooth crowns oddly positioned at 2 and 9 o’clock, and the fact that they put all buttons on the left instead of the right. Oh, and give the watch a pair of bumpers. Those proportions are crazy, right? You would think that they couldn’t possibly work, but they do.
Let’s start with the size. Puck cases work because the lugs are either integrated or small. On this one, they are small, set low, and are black. They almost disappear, which means the length you see is no more than the diameter of the case, and 44.5 is actually pretty modest. Now, there is no getting around that 13.5mm thickness, and the tuna can shape does nothing to hide it. This is fine. Puck watches are supposed to be thick. The real question is what to do with all that height.
The Vero occupies that space with fat crowns, chunky chronograph buttons, and a raised center section that jukes over the bottom lugs and around the right side crown. Each pusher is 8.5mm wide, providing more than adequate surface area for your fingertip. I found no real difference in operating them from the left than I did from the right. The crowns both screw down, and although the only tooth they provide is at the upper edge, that is exactly what you require for an adequate fingertip grip. I thought the labeling on the crowns and buttons was a nice touch. Taken together, these elements imbue a sense of purpose, so it’s not just a thick case; it’s a tool with good ergonomics.
Vero’s site describes the bumpers as rubberized steel bullhorns. It is a single unit comprised of a single stiff wire loop that winds its way around the entire case, tucking neatly into the groove between the bottom edge and the caseback lid. I have to wonder if it really provides all that much protection, but I’ll admit that it does look cool.
In truth, the Workhorse needs no coddling. It’s rated for 120m of water resistance, the crowns are triple-gasketed, and it has an AR-coated sapphire crystal. That desert tan (Canyon) or olive green (Backcountry) case color is actually Cerakote, a hard ceramic coating often used for firearms and motorsports applications. It is exceptionally tough stuff. If, by some unfortunate event, you do manage to break your Workhorse, just send it back. Vero offers a remarkable 10-year, no-questions-asked warranty.
While both colorways are appealing, I chose the Canyon both for its tan case and the color of its minutes index. But let’s walk through the face first. It’s not what you’d expect for a chronograph, yet quite satisfying.
We start with the internal bezel, operated by the 2 o’clock crown. The primary dial wears its printed hours in a concave ring interrupted by a pair of recessed subdials. Sixty simple dots form the Workhorse’s index, and this is as precise as the delineation gets. The bezel is only marked in increments of five. The small seconds dial at 9 has only quadrants. Even with the sweep hand, there is no way to track fractions of a second. It is an uncommonly sparse layout for a chronograph — and I’m good with that.
First of all, it looks clean and modern with those clipped hands and space-age needles and nothing too fussy getting in the way of its open black space and sparing pops of orange. Second, it suits the way most people actually use their chronographs. As far as I’m concerned, the most useful function of a small seconds dial is to confirm that the watch is running. If you are actually timing something, you will use the vastly more legible chronograph function. Moreover, if your timing truly needs to be accurate to a fraction of a second, you are better off using a quality digital. This watch displays what 99% of its users require in the real world and looks damn fine in the process.
Let’s take a second look at that index. On the dark Backcountry, the markers are recessed into the surface for a somber black-on-black that relies on shadow. It’s a cool effect. On the Canyon, they are printed in black except for the white lume above the hours. The orange appears brighter than the other accents, but that is because there are two bands of color here: orange and yellow. It is so simple, yet so very satisfying.
Every proper tool watch needs lume. The Workhorse delivers dashes of it in blue-white on the hands and markers as well as the bezel.
When I bought the Vero, I thought it would look great on a leather strap. Maybe it would. I can’t confirm because I’ve been enjoying the unique nylon and Velcro strap that came with it.
These days, I wear very few watches on nylon straps, and my experience with Velcro NASA straps has been hit-and-miss. Many use fabric that is too stiff enough to be comfortable, and if the plastic backing of the Velcro can contact my skin, it will be banished to the Box of Misfit Watch Straps. Such is not the case here. Vero’s strap uses a heavy yet soft nylon weave and a clever design that works particularly well for me.
As you can see, it is a pass-through strap, albeit not one you can just slip onto the head. The plastic loop is sewn into the 20mm nylon section that forms the upper layer and to which the Velcro is attached (Vero lists it as 18mm, but my calipers and strap collection say otherwise). You pop that on and off with conventional spring bars in drilled lugs.
A lower nylon layer is sewn to the long part of the upper right up to the head, at which point it remains free. This creates a flap, allowing you room to fit the strap to the springbars and then cover them. A Velcro tab at the loop holds it in place. The lower layer is 24mm wide, which provides the twin benefits of protecting you from the Velcro strip’s plastic edge, and subtly beefing up the Workhorse’s appearance.
Pass the prickly Velcro end of the tail through the loop, double back to stick it to the fuzzy bit, and voila, you have an adjustable and weatherproof strap.
On my little wrist, I cinched the tail end right to the point where the two Velcro surfaces meet, so I was able to utilize the nearly entire section for maximum security. Folks with much larger wrists will end up with a smaller amount of hook-and-loop surface area to attach. It will also require you to double back after the end of the nylon layer, putting the Velcro backing in direct contact with your skin. If either of these is problematic, the Workhorse will easily accept a conventional two-piece strap. That would be a shame, though, as it is ingenious and surprisingly comfortable.
Finally, I need to tell you about the instructions. Do you remember what they were like on the last watch you bought? Me neither. Maybe it was a tiny book or a pamphlet — who knows? Unless your watch had a bunch of odd complications, you probably didn’t even read it.
The Vero Workhorse manual, on the other hand, is an 18″ blueprint-style poster. It is impossible not to look at. Brilliant.
The Vero Workhorse Chronograph is available now for $425, and it is worth every penny. They have also launched a new line of U.S. Forest Service Edition watches that reflect the next evolution of the Workhorse design, shrinking it to 39mm, coating it with some wild colors, and fitting a three-hand Seiko Kinetic movement.
Do yourself a favor. Before you buy your next grab-it-and-go tool watch, consider the Vero Workhorse. For more information or to place an order, visit vero-watch.com.
