Still, the Gentleman has its own, quiet charm, albeit one less easy to pin down than in either the Seiko or the Hamilton. It is, especially in the Powermatic 80 version, not a watch that relies on any tradition or history in particular, except the larger history of mechanical watchmaking in Switzerland. Especially the larger history of creating watches which, if they are not obviously remarkable for design, also possess a certain bourgeois dignity of their own, which sees nothing wrong with social stability, trains that run on time, a deeply ingrained sense of personal and fiscal responsibility, and delivering where it counts on basic respectable good value. As you spend more time with it, you begin to understand just what a deeply Swiss watch the Tissot Gentleman is – right down to the, let’s admit it, proudly un-sexy name. “Gentleman” ought to win some sort of special prize at the GPHG for Watch Name Least Likely To Make Someone Buy A Watch. It declines modestly but firmly to lean on anything other than its own entirely honorable attributes, and in doing so, insinuates itself quietly but definitely into one’s daily life – a creature perhaps, not of passion, but of a much more enduring kind of devotion.