This post is primarily pitched at women who might be thinking about buying one of these watches. Most reviews on this watch seem to be made by men with outdoor or military pretensions, feigned or real. I'm just a 74 year old woman who wanted something distinctive, solar-powered, strong, water-resistant and very easy to tell the time with. Something simple but enduring. Something that wouldn't nag me or stress me, as a smartwatch certainly can.
To be clear, I'm not fanatical about adventure and extreme experiences, not at all, but I don't mind the image. In reality I'm a comfort-loving creature who doesn't willingly do rough unless she has to. But I do get out and around every day, because I like photography and taking lots of pictures. That can involve going to places that might pose a cosmetic threat to a fragile watch, or a fancy one that might spoil if it takes a thump. My regular caravanning holidays, all year round, often in scenic areas, with forays into characterful towns, do at any rate involve plenty of walking, sometimes in bad weather. Stormy skies and rough seas are both within my range of photographic subjects. I like keeping warm and snug, but if a shot or twelve is to be had, I'm out there. It could be Dartmoor or the New Forest, the Mull of Kintyre or Beachy Head. It could also be a bleak afternoon on some rain-lashed promenade in January.
After two weeks, I'm confident that this watch can cope with anything I will ever throw at it in my travels. It will also laugh at getting messy or accidentally knocked about at home. I've every expectation that it will look good, and keep working perfectly, for years to come with no attention apart from wiping it clean, resetting the time twice a year, and correcting the date seven times a year.
I've already shown plenty of watch pictures in my post The new watch arrives on 29th September, so this post is in the nature of a follow-up, mostly about the straps I bought and fitted, and any quirks or issues (only two, and they don't matter).
In the post just mentioned, I'd just ordered a mustard-yellow nylon military-style strap from WatchGecko. The out-of-the-box strap was a dark grey heavily-stitched fabric affair that used Kevlar, the stuff that sails and paraglider wings are made of. It was fine; a bit stiff at first, but after a few hours' wear it was shaping up to be a comfortable strap. I didn't mind the very prominent metal eyelets, and one of those was just right for a good fit on my wrist. But the dark grey fabric was a bit dull. So I was going to detach it with a special tool I'd bought, and substitute a different strap in a brighter colour.
I chose yellow. It would go nicely with the watch face and many of my clothes, both normal and strictly outdoor. And it would lift the mood, so to speak. I wanted some warmth and cheer. So as soon as the delivery man had come, I set to. First, by taking off the old strap. It was done by releasing the watch's spring bars with that special tool. It was more of a fiddle than I thought it would be, but after a few minutes I'd succeeded. I slid the bars out of the strap ends, and popped them back into their holes on the inside of the lugs. Unless I were going to fit a two-piece strap in the future, I wouldn't need to touch those spring bars again.
I put the original dark grey strap away inside the stout envelope the yellow strap came in. I was unlikely to use it, but it was much too good to junk.
Now the one-piece, double-pass yellow NATO strap went on. It was Y-shaped. The longer part threaded through the spring bars, then though the keeper on the end of the shorter part. After drawing the slack through, I then just buckled up normally. There was a longer than normal section of strap left hanging, but this was a deliberate design feature of a 'military' strap (read on for why) and, as intended, I folded it back on itself and tucked it into a keeper.
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With this type of strap, the watch - although held against the wrist - is on a separate loop of its own. Unless both its stout spring bars fail simultaneously, it will stay attached to its loop and not fall away into oblivion. This is for the kind of situation where one might be sliding about (on a muddy slope, say) and the watch snags on something (a tree branch, say) and is yanked away from the strap. Or, in more ordinary circumstances, the watch gets caught on a car seat belt, or camera strap, or similar. Conceivably a spring bar might fail if that happened (although the Tough's spring bars looked heavy-duty to me). But even then, only one of them, surely. The watch would be left flapping on the wrist, but still secure. Back home, strap off, out with the tool, and a fresh spring bar fitted.
I think the yellow strap has added a touch of pizzazz to the no-nonsense plainness of the watch. Perfect for meetups with friends.
And the yellow strap is really comfortable. It's made of woven nylon, quite thin, and it easily moulded itself to both the watch and my wrist.
Why is it so long? Well, in dire weather (let's say a freezing gale) one might wish to wear the watch over an outer sleeve, and not on the wrist. Worn thus, one wouldn't need to expose the wrist at all. It wouldn't matter to this watch if it were pelted with hail or torrential rain or heavy snow. You'd just wipe the watch face with a gloved finger, and see what the time was. I'll readily agree that I'm never likely to wear the watch in this way, unless wishing to impress the tourists, and see them gasp with astonishment. Somewhere remote that gets shockingly bad weather. Perhaps in the Lanes of Brighton.
Then for an encore I bought another strap from WatchGecko, exactly the same but in grey. That looked good too.
As you can see, grey didn't contrast with the watch face. It blended with it. It was low-key - an advantage in various situations, such as the more formal occasion. But for weddings and funerals, and any scenario where I'd need to be taken really seriously (such as at a tribunal or interview) I would get a black strap, to tone the watch down even more.
These straps are not cheap - with delivery, it's £30+ a pop - but the WatchGecko ones are top quality, and I may gradually build up a collection of them. Something in teal next, or perhaps a lemon yellow, or possibly mauve. The thing is, these NATO straps can be swapped in and out in half a minute, and each of them modifies the character of the watch to suit one's mood, one's outfit, or the occasion.
Back to the watch itself. I've so much praise for it. Its simplicity and lack of bling make me feel pure, unpretentious and confident when walking around a shopping centre or along a high street, when the Tough is on my wrist and on display. The Tough is definitely different. Nobody else is wearing anything quite like it. There are nice diver and pilot watches around, to be sure - a popular choice - and some of them are unisex. But mostly they are designed for a man's wrist and are way too large. Most women are wearing either a smartwatch, such as an Apple watch, Fitbit or a Garmin, or the traditional small gold watch that you can't read the time from without peering closely at it.
I'm sure nobody has heard of the Tough, and few might ever consider wearing it. I feel I'm bucking convention. But being different is my style.
Spot the Tough in this array of Citizen watches in a Crawley jeweller's window:
Any issues with this watch? Two; but they don't matter.
The date window is too small. It's OK in good light, and from the right angle, but it's still too miniscule for a quick glance. I wonder why Citizen bothered with it. It's unimportant because my phone will tell me the date, and show me my calendar. And I am never without my phone.
The other issue is seeing what the time is in darkness. Like most watches that aren't smartwatches, the Tough relies on luminous hands, which are painted with a compound that glows brightly when light is first shone at it, but fades over the hours ahead. At its best it looks like this:
That's what I see with my glasses on. But my view of everything is fuzzy without my glasses. If I wake up during the night, and want to see the time, I really don't want to fumble for my specs, or the light switch, or both. So even if the Tough's watchface is still glowing adequately, I see only a mush, because it's completely out of focus. I can't distinguish the hands from the ring of numerals, and can't tell the time.
I do have a workaround. My discarded Garmin Vivoactive 5 fitness watch now serves as a bedside clock, and a mere sleepy finger-tap will light it up.
The Garmin's watch hands are different colours, red for the hour, green for the minutes - I set it up that way - so even though it's also out of focus, there's no mistaking what the time is. And with only that one job to do, its recharges last ten days, which is adequately convenient. If away for a week in the caravan, I might not need to bring along its recharging paraphernalia.
It would be perfect for me if the Tough also had hour and minute hands that were red and green! But nobody does things that way with a watch that I'd be interested in. Besides, could those red and green hands be made to glow in the dark quite as brightly as ordinary pale green lume? Probably not.
So the Tough is not heroic in total darkness, unless you shine a torch on it and have good eyesight, or wear your glasses. But in merely dim light, say the light at dawn or dusk, or in deep shadow, the Tough does very well. The very prominent numerals and hands, assisted a little by the lume, make it easy to see what time it is.
In my researches I saw some reviewers - men of taste and distinction, one supposes - perhaps even sensibility and perception - criticise those overlarge numerals and dial markings, one calling them childish, another oafish. Well, as I understand it, there are three good reasons for their size.
First, sheer visibility in awful conditions. Second, the watchface isn't a solid black metal disc: it's translucent, to let in the all-important light to power the watch. The numerals and markings are therefore big, in order to stand out starkly against that not-quite-black watchface. Third, in the current version of the Tough the water-pressure rating if submerged was increased from 200 metres to 300 metres. To do that, the bezel that clamped the crystal against the front of the watch had to be thickened, making the dial underneath the crystal smaller. That of course left less space for the numerals and markings. But they were not made proportionally smaller, to match the reduced dial area. They were kept the same size for the sake of maximum visibility, and that made them seem extra-large.
Some might see this as a design mistake, certainly a violation of aesthetic principles. I don't. Proportion must surely come second to readability. That, after all, is why the deliberately thick and bold sans-serif lettering on road signs looks blocky and inelegant compared with a printing font. Its first duty is to be read at a distance from a fast-moving vehicle, without any possibility of error. If the letters (and their spacing) obeyed classic rules of proportion, road signs wouldn't be so clear.
These roadside photos of mine, incidentally, date from 1989 (Broadbridge Heath in Sussex) and 2019 (Eglwyswrw in west Wales). Nowadays the mandatory speed limit going through the latter would be only 20 miles per hour. Thank Plaid Cymru for that.
There's nothing much more to say. I keep coming back to how individual this watch is. It's beautifully well-made. It's certainly not pretty, nor is it elegant; but then this a piece of equipment, and not jewellery. It's a hymn to functionality, unquestionably durable, and honest value for money, given its specification. And despite its plainness, it can be tricked out with colourful and easily-replaced straps.
Furthermore, I don't think I stand much risk of being robbed for my watch: it's not trendy, nor obviously valuable. In fact, if I put a shocking pink strap on it, it might well be taken for nothing more than a kid's watch - a good disguise, if ever needed. (Sadly, its wearer doesn't look like a kid any more)