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Tested: Omega Speedmaster Broad Arrow

written by A.Morgan - 7th Jul 2011

A few of you might know the relevance of the term ‘Broad Arrow’ when it comes to Omega, but I’m willing to bet that many of you won’t. You see, the Speedmaster as we know it, as Omega would have the world know it, is the one that was on the wrist of three incredible, if slightly bonkers people who rode to the moon on the back of the world’s most expensive firework. However, this isn’t where the story began.

The varying textures on the dial make the silver surfaces appear very different

Before NASA got their hands on the Speedmaster and changed virtually everything in it, it looked a lot more like the watch I have on my wrist right now – the Speedmaster Broad Arrow. The distinctive hands (broad, arrow-shaped hands no less) were ditched by NASA in favour of thinner ones – the worry being that the original hands would obscure the dial, confuse the astronauts and send the command module off into the dark oblivion, or something along those lines.

In any case, it’s water under the bridge because Omega has gone back to its roots with a batch of re-edition Broad Arrows, commemorating the beginning of the iconic range. 321.12.42.50.02.001 may sound like a grid reference (maybe it is a sign to Omega that they have made more than enough special edition Speedmasters), but it is in fact the model number for the silver-dialled reissue.

The red '1957' just seems awkward amongst what is otherwise a great dial

The first thing that strikes you about this watch is the blued steel that Omega has used for the hands and markers; the other Broad Arrows make do with the plain stuff. Depending on the light, the blue changes from vivid, royal blue to deep black, and contrasted with the light coloured dial, it really looks special. That’s the next thing that strikes you – the dial. Yeah, it’s silver, but look closer and you’ll see no less than four textures. The outer dial is smooth satin, the inner dial is a fine, almost sand-papery texture, the outer sub-dials are polished and the inner sub-dials have a guilloche pattern. Press shots really don’t capture the depth of the dial and how each part changes compared to the other at different angles, and it was a nice surprise when seeing the watch in the flesh.

It seems a shame then that Omega insisted on sticking ‘1957’ slap bang in the middle of the top half of the dial, in bright red no less. Yes, it was the year of the first Speedmaster, but it really does detract from what is a very handsome watch. It is only five millimetres of text though, so I suppose it can be overlooked, especially when the rest looks as good as it does. And anyway, the dial has a redeeming feature that more than compensates for it; walk into even a slightly dim room, and the white luminescent paint glows like a piece of cartoon radioactive waste. Seriously, it has to be the brightest lume I’ve ever seen on a watch.

Never mind a torch; the lume on this can be seen from space (probably)

The dial is mesmerising, but a watch is for wearing, so I adjust the simple, yet solid and well-finished deployant on the puffed-up brown leather strap, and slip it on. From the first moment on the wrist, it’s like it isn’t even there. It’s not as if it’s that dainty a watch either; at 42mm and with a chronograph movement, it’s neither small nor slender, but the way the lugs hug around the wrist just makes the weight disappear.

This brings me on to the crowning jewel of this watch – the movement. The small window on the dial at six o’clock hints at something else other than the hand-wound Calibre 1861 found in the Moonwatch, and it’d be right; flip the Broad Arrow over and there’s a sapphire case back exposing the mechanical goodness within. Inside is Omega’s technical masterpiece, the column-wheel’d and co-axial’d 3313 chronograph movement. It’s nicely decorated, and it’s possible to waste a lot of time staring at its intricacies.

The co-axial 3313 is the jewel in the crown for this Omega Broad Arrow

This Broad Arrow re-issue may not be the glamorous saviour of Apollo 13, and the closest to space it has probably been was on board an EasyJet Airbus a few weeks ago, but it really is a fabulous wrist companion. The Moonwatch carries too many niggles for me, which in turn put me off the Broad Arrow, but I’m glad I finally came to my senses and tried one on. It has subtle qualities that only begin to reveal themselves with time, as if the watch is rewarding you for being faithful to it. Rather than being a special edition Speedmaster, it is a great model in its own right; and deservingly so. Now if only Omega would read this and make one without the annoying red text on the dial…