This post is part of a series, Reading Time at HSNY, written by our librarian, Miranda Marraccini.

Many watch collectors will tell you that watches can be sexy. Usually the adjective is interpretive, not literal–watches make us feel something, give us a flutter or a wink, increase our sense of confidence or attraction. But what about watches that are literally sexy? What about watches that reproduce sex acts on the small scale of micromechanics?

I was quoted in an article about erotic watches that was published in The New York Times on Valentine’s Day in 2023, and in honor of the return of that romantic period I thought I would share some more details from my research. My main sources are two books from the Horological Society of New York library, “Hours of Love” by Roland Carrera (1993), and “Erotische Uhren” by Christoph Prignitz (2004). Although these books are richly illustrated, I won’t be able to include many of the images in this article because they’re too explicit–all the more reason to visit our library in person and do your own research!

Erotic watches feature miniature images of sexual scenes on the dial or caseback of the watch, often hidden behind a decorative metal cover that springs open to reveal a secret painting. On some of these watches, tiny human automata (sometimes called jaquemarts) move when the watch runs, simulating sex acts. That type of moving erotica wouldn’t have been easily available elsewhere in the age before film.

You can see a couple of tamer examples in images 1 and 2, from the book “Erotische Uhren.” On the watch in image 1, a repeater from about 1820, a soldier stands next to a young lady in a flowing yellow dress with an elaborate hairdo, who is holding her hand to her mouth as if laughing. On the back of the case, the source of the lady’s mischievous expression is revealed: her dress is hiked up and the soldier’s hand is on her bottom. The two lovers on the watch in image 2, a French example from around 1800, are similarly discreet. She touches his face tenderly as they gaze into each other’s eyes. When the metal frame is opened, they’re having sex under their clothes.

In the 18th century, erotic watches were a status symbol. They were expensive and not designed for practicality. Their heyday in the late 18th century was a period in France where mistresses and courtesans were a part of the aristocratic, libertine lifestyle, and middle-class people might try to emulate that perceived sexual freedom through acquiring erotica.

During the same period in the 18th century, there was also a flourishing of erotic literature in Europe, including novels like “Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure (Fanny Hill),” by John Cleland and “Les Liaisons Dangereuses” by Pierre Choderlos de Laclos, as well as the writings of the Marquis de Sade. Erotic watches reflected the broader literary and artistic taste of the time. In “Erotische Uhren,” Prignitz talks about how these watches combined the idea of rationality and discipline (measuring time precisely, being on time) with uncontrolled sensuality and passion. They’re something hidden in plain sight, breaking a taboo in a place you wouldn’t expect.

In 18th-century Europe, since aristocratic men were the main audience for these watches, the erotic images were tailored to their tastes. They often feature “classical” or even biblical themes that would have been familiar to those with access to private education, including Leda and the Swan, nymphs and satyrs, and Venus and Adonis. Other common scenes are bawdy stories from Boccaccio's “Decameron,” the sins of priests or clergymen, lusty nuns, cheating wives being caught by their husbands, and the seduction of female servants and shepherdesses.

For those unfamiliar with the sexual mores of past centuries, the subjects of these watches can be surprisingly diverse. There are watches with homosexual scenes, as well as people from different races and social classes. They sometimes include three or more participants enthusiastically enjoying each others’ bodies. During this period, colonization encouraged an idealized concept of freer, more natural sensuality among the people of colonized nations than among white Europeans. So a subset of erotic watches depicted sex scenes involving African and Asian characters.

Later on, there was a period when watchmakers adorned erotic watches with photographs instead of enamel paintings. In Image 3, an early 20th-century watch shows a series of photographs of naked women, printed on a rotating wheel underneath the dial. With a few exceptions, though, the subjects of erotic watches haven’t changed much since the 18th century; some of the more recent pieces are reproductions of earlier designs.

Who was making these expensive and highly specialized pieces? In the 18th century, most of these watches were created anonymously or with false signatures, mainly by French and Swiss manufacturers. Watchmakers didn’t want to damage the reputation of Swiss manufacturing by signing erotic watches for export. Also, there were repeated efforts to suppress erotic watch production, most notably in Geneva in the early 19th century.

Some of the watches pictured in this article, however, are signed, like the one in image 4, produced by Breguet & Fils in about 1850 and pictured in the book “Hours of Love.” It shows a relatively modest scene of two women and one man in Roman-style dress, their intimacies strategically obscured by the dial. Similarly, we know that these watches were sometimes commissioned for a specific owner, but owners tended to keep their identities private, so the historical record is slim.

Although their popularity declined in the 19th and 20th centuries, erotic watches were certainly made into the 1990s with some regularity, including by Blancpain, Svend Andersen, and Jacquet Droz. Today, manufacturers of erotic watches no longer hide their identities. The Richard Mille 69 Tourbillon Erotic was manufactured in 2015 and worn by the rapper Drake in 2019. Inventively, it uses words, rather than images, to convey a sexy statement: three rollers engraved with interchangeable phrases function kind of like an erotic slot machine.

The Jacob & Co. Caligula with “concealed erotic scene” is another recent addition, as is the Ulysse Nardin “Classico Manara” series featuring a woman/mermaid romance told over the course of ten watches. People are still innovating in the service of erotic art, as evidenced by a sketch I found folded in our copy of “Erotische Uhren.” The anonymous reader was attempting to figure out the mechanics behind some erotic automata, perhaps hoping to create a watch of their own (image 5).

Looking at these watches in a social context, they served as a way for rich men to connect over private sexual jokes. However, even though these watches mostly portrayed women according to men’s fantasies, they could also show women with sexual agency, seeking out and enjoying sex. In an introduction to a 1997 Antiquorum auction catalog in our library that features erotic watches, Dr. Ruth Westheimer (yes, the Dr. Ruth!) puts forward a sex-positive view of them, writing “a couple can both share in the joys of beholding the incredible precision of the tiny movements, which will not only amaze in their intricacy, but most certainly trigger the sparks that later can ignite more fevered passions.”

In “Hours of Love,” Carrera has a similar take. He coyly calls erotic watches “conversation pieces.” The conversation part comes in because, according to Carrera, “their purpose was to allow a man to entertain a lady in conversation which might then lead to a meeting of the minds or possibly bodies.” From my view, I think calling these watches “conversation pieces” illustrates something about how watches can have complicated, multilayered meanings. Watches participate in a broader cultural conversation, speaking about what their owners find valuable, interesting, or romantic. Again, erotic watches have never been openly accepted or publicly embraced; yet they persist, signifying a part of our culture that never gives up the impulse to shock and arouse.