C’Quon “CQ” Gottlieb — Access, Identity, and the Democratization of Modern Watch Culture
How communities, representation, and global collector networks are redefining legitimacy in horology.
Introduction — When Access Becomes Power
What happens when collecting stops being about exclusivity alone — and starts becoming about participation, belonging, and cultural identity?
That question sits at the center of the conversation with C’Quon “CQ” Gottlieb, Senior Client Advisor at The 1916 Company and co-founder of CP Time Collective. Across the discussion, CQ presents a radically human view of modern horology: watches are not merely luxury objects, but emotional artifacts tied to memory, aspiration, identity, geography, and community.
His perspective is shaped by a path that remains unusual within the luxury watch world. Raised in St. Thomas in the U.S. Virgin Islands, without a family background in watch collecting, CQ entered the industry almost accidentally — through retail work and curiosity — before gradually becoming one of the most respected community builders and advisors in contemporary horology.
What emerges from the conversation is not simply a discussion about watches, but about access itself:
who gets invited into collecting culture,
who defines legitimacy,
and how communities are quietly redistributing cultural power within horology.
Watches, Politics, and Seeing Yourself in History
CQ’s first association with “Watches & Politics” is deeply personal. Rather than beginning with statesmen, military procurement, or diplomacy, he turns to Emperor Haile Selassie of Ethiopia and his celebrated Omega watches.
For CQ, the significance was not merely historical — it was representational.
Coming from a Caribbean background heavily influenced by Rastafarian culture, seeing Haile Selassie connected to vintage Omega collecting created a moment of recognition:
someone who looked like him,
someone connected to cultures familiar to him,
existing inside a luxury watch narrative that had historically seemed distant.
That realization mattered.
The discussion reveals an important political dimension of collecting culture:
representation changes participation.
When people see themselves reflected in horological history, the industry becomes psychologically accessible in entirely new ways.
From Salesman to Custodian
One of the most powerful sections of the conversation revolves around CQ’s rejection of the traditional “salesman” identity.
Early in his career, he admits, his approach was transactional:
sell watches,
close deals,
generate revenue.
But over time, exposure to collectors and watchmaking changed his perspective fundamentally.
He describes witnessing clients celebrate major life milestones — career achievements, family moments, personal victories — through watches. He realized that collectors were not simply purchasing objects. They were attaching meaning to moments in their lives.
At the same time, CQ became increasingly aware of the immense human labor behind high horology:
watchmakers dedicating years of their lives to mastering microscopic craft,
regulation,
finishing,
assembly,
precision.
That transformed his relationship with watches completely.
Rather than seeing himself as a salesperson, he began seeing himself as a custodian — someone temporarily responsible for guiding important objects toward the right future owners.
In this framework, watches become closer to fine art than retail products.
Collectors are not simply consumers.
They are caretakers of stories, craftsmanship, and memory.
CP Time and the Politics of Representation
The conversation then moves into one of the most important developments in contemporary watch culture:
the rise of community-driven collector organizations.
CQ explains how CP Time Collective emerged organically through conversations with fellow collector Al Coombs while both were living abroad.
What they noticed was not the absence of Black collectors — but the fragmentation of them.
Collectors existed everywhere,
yet rarely occupied the same spaces together.
CP Time was created to change that.
Rather than positioning itself as an exclusionary organization, CP Time was designed as a culturally rooted space:
a place where Black collectors and people who embrace Black culture could gather comfortably around horology.
The impact quickly became visible.
Brands attending CP Time events encountered something many had rarely seen before:
rooms filled with highly knowledgeable Black collectors from finance, medicine, technology, academia, law, entrepreneurship, and creative industries — not merely celebrities or athletes.
This challenged long-standing assumptions about who luxury consumers are and how collector communities function.
More importantly, it changed the psychological accessibility of collecting itself.
CQ recounts a powerful story about a Black finance executive considering the purchase of an F.P. Journe watch who paused during the transaction and quietly asked:
“Do people who look like me and you buy these kinds of watches?”
That question became foundational to CP Time’s mission.
The goal was never simply to host events.
It was to create visibility,
belonging,
and reassurance for collectors who previously felt isolated within luxury watch culture.
The Caribbean, Forgotten Watchmaking History, and Economic Erasure
Perhaps the most surprising section of the conversation centers on CQ’s effort to establish a watchmaking school in the Caribbean.
What began as a vague ambition evolved into historical research — and eventually a rediscovery of a largely forgotten industrial past.
CQ discovered that the U.S. Virgin Islands once hosted a substantial watch assembly industry.
At one point, nearly 10% of all watches imported into the United States were assembled there.
Swiss brands had established assembly operations in the territory due to favorable tariff structures tied to U.S. territorial policy.
The revelation reframed the entire project.
What initially appeared to be an attempt to create something entirely new became, instead, an effort to revive a dormant horological legacy.
The political dimensions here are profound:
trade policy,
industrial geography,
globalization,
economic restructuring,
and forgotten manufacturing histories all intersect through watches.
CQ’s proposed school is not merely educational.
It is historical restoration.
Collecting After the Pandemic — Love vs. Financialization
One of the central tensions discussed throughout the interview concerns the transformation of watches into financial assets after the pandemic-era market boom.
CQ describes how collecting shifted dramatically once watches became widely recognized as investment-grade assets.
Collectors who once bought pieces purely out of passion suddenly found themselves managing portfolios worth hundreds of thousands — or millions — of dollars.
This created entirely new psychological pressures:
fear of missing out,
speculation,
status anxiety,
and transactional thinking.
CQ repeatedly returns to one principle:
“buy what you love.”
He warns against collectors purchasing watches solely because others desire them.
One of his most memorable metaphors compares speculative buying to arranged marriage:
people entering relationships with watches they do not truly love simply because the market told them they should.
For CQ, true collecting requires emotional connection.
Without it, the relationship between collector and object eventually collapses.
Independent Watchmaking and the Redistribution of Influence
Another major theme in the conversation is the growing influence of independent watchmakers and community-driven collecting.
CQ argues that younger collectors increasingly prioritize:
community,
access,
conversation,
and personal connection over pure prestige.
Independent makers benefit enormously from this shift because collectors can interact directly with them:
sharing meals,
asking questions,
participating in design conversations,
and developing emotional relationships with creators themselves.
This changes the entire structure of authority within horology.
Large luxury groups no longer monopolize legitimacy.
Collectors increasingly derive meaning from direct interaction and authenticity.
CQ believes this democratization will continue accelerating globally — particularly as talented watchmakers emerge from regions historically excluded from high horology.
The result is a future where:
power becomes decentralized,
communities shape narratives,
and legitimacy emerges from participation rather than institutional gatekeeping alone.
What Is a Collector?
The conversation closes with a deceptively simple question:
what defines a collector?
CQ’s answer is elegant:
a collector is someone whose objects are connected by a thread.
That thread may be:
history,
aesthetic,
emotion,
brand,
function,
memory,
or personal identity.
But true collecting requires intentionality.
A collection is not random accumulation.
It is a narrative.
And watches, in CQ’s framework, become chapters in that larger story.