my mother's old watch.
I went to a watch repair store yesterday. I wanted to check out two old watches I have that stopped working. One of them was a Cartier that belonged to my mother, and I had never worn it. As I am standing there, I see the repairman looking at it and looking at it, back and forth, with his loupe on his eye. As he explained to me the prices for changing the battery, etc., he asked the one question I was expecting: “Is it real?” I knew it wasn’t—my mother could never afford the real thing--, but I played along and said, “I don’t know, I inherited it from my mother.” It was curious to me that he would not have known it right away. As he continued looking at the watch from all sides, he said. “It is really hard to tell; you should be able to by looking at the name in the back, but it is almost illegible because of the scratches and the gunk around the letters.” He was referring to the old dust partic...