Unholy Grail: Why the comically dated TAG Heuer S/el is a true guilty pleasure
D.C. HannayNo matter how tasteful your watch collection, no matter how stuffed your portfolio is with blue chip stocks like no-date Subs, pre-Moon Speedys, or the perfect Cartier Tank, there’s probably a black sheep lurking somewhere. Your questionable choices. Your dark secrets. The one that’s horribly out of fashion, objectively unattractive, or just plain bizarre. Be honest, something weird is lurking in the recesses of your watch box, or in the search history of your furtive late-night web trawling. Unholy Grail is a celebration of those polarising misfits, and truth be told, I have more than a few on my radar. Clearly, I have issues.
Heuer is one of the most revered marques in the collecting world, with classics like the Carrera, the Monaco, and several others populating many a wish list (and living rent-free in my head). The brand is ingrained in the history of motorsport, and rightly so, as they were there for some of the biggest moments in racing history. And Lord knows, I’d love to have a few in the collection, but as a kid in the ‘80s, I was imprinted with a deep attachment to some of the more out-there references of the time. After the ownership transferred to Techniques d’Avant Garde, TAG Heuer was a whole new ball game, and the watch designs started getting reeeeally adventurous. And the most audacious of them all has to be the absolutely bonkers S/el.
Let’s just say it: the S/el (short for Sport/Elegance) is almost comically dated, a true product of the times, born at the height of the go-go 1980s. While the original Formula 1 was all bright colours and Swatchlike youthful energy (and I was a huge fan), the Eddy Schöpfer-designed S/el was an avant-garde rethinking of what a watch could look like. And yes, I love it to death. It’s all down to that sinuously sculpted bracelet, and how it integrates with the rounded-off edges of the case, devoid of the crisp, sharp angles of the past.
The twin S-links reminded me of something sketched by Swiss artist H.R. Giger, who was a master of the aesthetic that became known as “biomechanical” for its melding of man and machine. His imaginative creations included sculpture, airbrushed paintings, and album artwork for musicians like Debbie Harry (of Blondie fame), as well as prog-rock group Emerson, Lake, and Palmer’s Brain Salad Surgery. Probably his most famous work is the xenomorph creature design for Ridley Scott’s sci-fi masterpiece Alien, and the S/el’s bracelet looks like it was pulled violently from the spine of some otherworldly monster. It’s a striking mixture of organic forms, rendered in metal.
And dated or not, there was nothing else like it in the watch world. It was connected to the case in a way that flowed effortlessly, but necessarily limited strap swapping to a small number of TAG-only choices. Honestly, if you’re in for a penny, you’re in for a pound, and if you bought the watch, you definitely bought it for the bracelet. Most were all-stainless with alternating matte and polished links, with the ‘80s-tastic two-tone another popular choice. A small number were made in black/gold as well as all gold, and a leather strap with special end links was also available.
The rounded case was broken up by an aggressively sawtoothed bezel, and the anachronistic appearance of a recessed quasi-onion crown. The dial elements were surprisingly conservative, with black, white, grey and blue the most common colour options. Mercedes hands, a date window at 3, and pill-shaped indices (6 and 9 numerals were added on certain chronometer models) rounded out the details. Perhaps the relatively restrained dial elements were a tonic to the bracelet and case’s outrageousness. men’s, mid-sized, and women’s sizes were all on offer.
Movements were quartz for the “Professional”, and an ETA 2892 for the “Chronometer” models. The S/el was essentially a reimagined dive watch (with 200 metres of water resistance), marketed to racing fans, and the odd positioning resulted in a rather good everyday all-rounder. Several variations were offered, including quartz and mechanical chronographs, analogue/digital models (like the one favoured by legendary Brazilian F1 pilot Ayrton Senna), and many special editions that celebrated motorsport.
There’s no way any of this should have worked, but miraculously, it was somehow perfect. Perfect for the time, anyway. Recognisable from half a block away, TAG Heuer sold truckloads of them, but the S/el wasn’t destined for horological immortality, and with the whims of fashion, it was discontinued in the late ‘90s. It did, however, spawn the more sharply angled Link series in 1999, which provided a modern update of the original form, and is still part of the TAG Heuer catalogue today. But for those of us with questionable taste, sentimental attachment to all things ’80s, or both, nothing but the OG will do. You can still find examples on eBay and Chrono24, and they’re generally not too pricey.
I had a rare sighting in the wild not long ago, when the nurse administering my COVID vaccine took me off guard by sporting a remarkably preserved two-tone version. He called it his “diver watch”, and said his wife bought it new for him (as I silently screamed inside). Memorable day. I’m still looking for my perfect example, the Ref. #s89.206, a 38mm grey-dialled all-stainless chronometer model without the numerals on dial. Yes, it’s unashamedly retro, but that’s part of its charm (and my own, according to my daughter), and I’ll always love it.