The Vulcain Cricket: A Resounding Solution Amidst Mobile Phone Alarm Disturbances

The audacity. The temerity. The gall. There are several things in this world that I consider to be abhorrent: Sauvignon Blanc, with the exception of those produced by Didier Dagueneau; men that wear their sunglasses indoors, with the exception of the late Karl “The Kaiser” Lagerfeld; and mobile phones in all incarnations. No exceptions. None. Zero. Nada.

It is for this reason that each year, De Montague — yes, I refer to myself in the third person due to my exceeding immense reproductive appendage — is an unabashed naturalist, or in more familiar colloquial, a proud nudist. And one of the reasons is that the nude corporeal form offers little purchase for that most foul of devices, the mobile phone, lest you have a particularly well trained “prison wallet.” So, when I descend upon Cap d’Agde, that bucolic oasis of naturalist expressionism, or even traverse the playa at Burning Man clad only in my Montecristi Extra-Fino Panama hat woven by Ecuadorian children of extraordinary manual dexterity, nothing vexes me more, nothing irks greater ire, than when I hear that sonic abomination of a mobile phone chirping nonsensically away. The very insolence of it!

Look, De Montague gets it. For those of you engaged in pursuit of that vulgar necessity known as business, an alarm is an unpleasant necessity, a bit like an annual prostate examination. But if you need a device to rouse yourself from somnambulance or help you to structure your day, and you don’t have an indomitable head house steward who coos like a nightingale into your ear as he wafts Frederic Malle’s Dawn Eau de Toilette into your nostrils, then my suggestion is that most wonderful of inventions — the Vulcain Cricket.

Vulcain cricket the awakening of a sleeping beauty

This handsome timepiece dates back to 1947 when it was introduced as the world’s first mechanical alarm watch. It achieved this with the use of two barrels, which are the coiled springs that act as a power source for a watch. Basically, a watch works like this. The barrel is like the gas tank in De Montague’s Aston Martin DB4GT Zagato. Power flows along a series of gear wheels, the great wheel, the third wheel, the fourth or seconds wheel, and the escapement wheel. The escapement is like a tap in the kitchen. It opens and closes allowing a minute amount of energy to be released. This impulses a clever device invented by a Dutch fellow named Christiaan Huygens called the oscillator which rotates in one direction then, thanks to the spring to which it’s attached, rotates back — quite a lot like a child on a swing — unlocking the escapement and allowing yet another pulse of energy through.

With me so far? In previous attempts to create an alarm watch, the power needed to drive the alarm mechanism would cause the barrel to deplete prematurely, like De Montague as a young man before he discovered the mighty Tantric Arts and ascended to the realm of the sexual gods.

The alarm worked with a hammer that struck an internal membrane incorporated into the watch’s double caseback. The movement proved so accurate that even though it was designed for an alarm function in 1947, it went on to win the Neuchâtel Observatory Trials for accuracy. Moreover, the Cricket was a decidedly handsome timepiece, characterized by a smooth round 36mm in diameter case, long elegant lugs typical of the ’40s and ’50s, large easy-to-manipulate crown, and a domed pusher to turn the alarm off. Brilliant, no?

Vulcain cricket an icon on the wrist of US presidents

Well, several world leaders certainly thought so. Harry Truman, the American president who ably guided the United States’ economy from war to peacetime, was a devotee of the Vulcain Cricket. He received his from the White House News Photographers Association as a gift in 1953. This 14K gold watch was engraved with the words, “One More Please,” which is also De Montague’s motto when being paddled by his ProDom. His successor, Dwight Eisenhower, continued the association of the Cricket as the “President’s Watch” by sporting his regularly on his wrist. But it was Lyndon Johnson who was the Cricket’s biggest champion, not only donning his throughout most of his term, but regularly gifting them to people whose punctuality he wished to improve (I would imagine Italians). It was said that during his term in office, he gave away 200 Crickets, and famously used the mechanical chirping as an excuse to leave meetings that bored him. Amusingly, the sound was reminiscent of the timing fuse on a bomb and would cause the Secret Service officers to panic each time they heard it.

Vulcain Cricket “Style Moderne” for Revolution & The Rake

We met for a meal at the excellent Parisian Michelin-starred Le Violon d’Ingres, where we enjoyed a wonderful Ris de Veau washed down with an adequate Vosne-Romanée. Laidet was so besotted with De Montague’s horological and animal charisma that he sent me a Cricket prototype to wear during my annual pilgrimage to the nudist paradise of Cap d’Agde.

With his blessing, we decided to move forward with this project. I give you the Vulcain Cricket ‘Style Moderne’ for Revolution and The Rake with a 39mm in diameter case, made in just 50 examples, and priced at a very reasonable USD 4,060.

Tech Specs

Vulcain Cricket “Style Moderne” for Revolution & The Rake
Movement: Manual winding caliber V-10; 42-hour power reserve
Functions: Hours, minutes, seconds and alarm
Case: 39mm; polished stainless steel; water resistant to 50m
Dial: Two-tone Bellini and anthracite colored, with sector track; white rhodium applied Arabic numerals and hour markers
Strap: Brown calf leather with stainless steel pin buckle
Price: USD 4,060
Availability: Limited edition of 50 pieces