It’s time to address the watch industry’s lack of respect for journalistic objectivity

Not long ago, I received an email from the founder of a pre-owned watch start-up pitching me on his new company. There’s nothing inherently remarkable about that. Over the course of my 20-plus years writing about watches—for Robb Report, the New York Times, and other publications—I have received countless emails touting all kinds of timepieces and watch-related products and services, from AI-powered analytical tools to one-of-a-kind timepieces equipped with functional planetariums and roulette wheels.

As I scanned this particular message, however, I started to feel a sense of irritation that quickly turned into disbelief.

“I’ve read a few of your articles on watches in the NY Times and wanted to reach out to see if you would be interested in collaborating on an article together,” he wrote.

Let’s pause for a second. Can we all agree to jettison the word “collaborate” from our lexicon? At the very least, let’s agree that it does not belong in a pitch to an editor. Collaborations between brands, designers, artists, and other individuals are ubiquitous in the watch industry and beyond, and have been for years, largely because all parties stand to gain something—i.e., attention, traffic, sales.

Journalists, on the other hand, are not collaborators. We do not “co-create” stories with our subjects. If we did, they’d be called advertorials and would be published in special advertising sections to alert readers that they were consuming blatantly promotional content, usually paid for quite handsomely.

Now, getting back to the watch start-up founder who recently emailed me. I read to the end of his message, and then my jaw hit the floor.

“Please let me know if this is something you would be interested in,” he wrote in closing. “I could take a first pass at a draft.”

Practically every day, someone I interview asks if they can review my story prior to publication: “You know, just to make sure you got the facts right.” I cannot overstate how ignorant this is—the answer is always and forever NO. But never has someone offered to actually write my story for me. The fact that this guy thought I might take him up on his deeply insulting suggestion made me question his intelligence, his business acumen, and his ethics. I decided not to reply, but six weeks later, I’m still fuming at his cluelessness.

I wouldn’t be complaining if the email weren’t indicative of a systemic problem. Far too many people in the watch industry fundamentally misunderstand the role that journalists and editors play in the eco-system: Just because we cover their products does not mean that we are extensions of their marketing teams.

While my articles often shine a light on worthy brands and makers, they are not intended to be publicity vehicles. If you spend an hour sharing your story with me and the article I publish conveys only a snippet of that conversation, that’s because—see above—we are not collaborators. In exchange for free publicity, you agree to let me do my job without meddling in my business.

You’d be surprised at how few people on the brand side understand this dynamic.

Here’s a relatively benign example: I was recently in touch with a PR manager for a boutique brand owned by one of the industry’s biggest luxury groups. She wanted to know if I could confirm that an image of the brand’s newest watch would run with a New York Times story I was writing. I told her I could not confirm that, but I would provide the photo editor with the image; whether she’d use it or not was out of my control.

“Would there be any way to push for confirmations on the photo with the photo editor?” the PR replied. “Our HQ is asking, so I just want to make sure I double check.”

“No, unfortunately, the NYT does not work like that,” I answered. “I will share the photo with the photo editor and will provide your contact info but that is all I can do.”

Less than an hour later came this: “Quickly following up–would you be able to share the contact for the photo editor? Perhaps I can reach out to them on my end as it’s really important that an image is included. Let me know if possible!”

I’m not blaming the PR specialist. They’re clearly under a lot of pressure from their manager, who, I can only assume, is based in Europe, where the separation between editorial and advertising seems considerably murkier than it is here in the U.S. But what this exchange made clear is that the bigger the group, the more entitled they feel to dictate the terms of their coverage. The arrogance and self-importance are off the charts.

On a similar note, almost every time I make a request to interview a watch executive for a story, I am asked to provide the names of the other executives and brands I’m quoting—from my experience, if the brand is part of a luxury group, the interview request cannot move forward without this information. For a long time, I acquiesced without (public) complaint.

But then I got to thinking: Why do they need to know who else is being quoted? Are they worried their brands are going to be compared with lesser names? Is their brand that delicate and vulnerable? I’m genuinely confused.

I’m even more confused that so many ostensibly smart and successful people fail to understand the value of an independent press. Don’t get me wrong—the majority of PR professionals I work with here in the U.S. and abroad are well aware of how editorial departments work, and respect the distinction between journalism and promotional garbage (when I shared a redacted version of the startup dude’s email to my Instagram Stories, my friends in PR were equally horrified). I just wish luxury executives would get the clue.

As for the my advice to the startup founder, may I suggest he hire a publicist, and spend the next few weeks undoing the damage he did to his reputation? Now there’s a collaboration I could get behind.

This story was first published on Robb Report USA.