R.W. Smith’s Series 6 Breaks The Silence With A New Chapter In British Horology

In the last article I wrote about Berneron’s Quantième Annuel, I made the comment that the heart of independent watchmaking isn’t perfection itself but the pursuit of it. And as I began my research on Roger W. Smith’s Series 6, I could not help but smile when I stumbled across an Instagram caption where the man himself wrote, “the Series 6 represents the latest evolution in my ongoing pursuit of horological excellence.” Swap “excellence” with “perfection” and I think we arrive at the same truth.

Independent watchmaking is not about reaching the impossible, it is about never stopping the chase.

Roger W. Smith is not a name that comes up often in casual conversation. He, like the Isle of Man where he lives and works, remains a little apart from the bustle of the horological world. His history, his past, his methods have all been documented countless times, from film reels to watch media profiles. Like Journe, Dufour, Flageollet, Halter, and Voutilainen, he is one of the modern watchmakers who does not really need an introduction. And yet I find he lives outside the discourse that so often surrounds his peers. Perhaps it is his connection to the late George Daniels, a subject already exhausted to the point of cliché, or perhaps it is the image of a single workshop, every component made by hand, his tastes resolute, firmly rooted in the traditions of English watchmaking.

This watch is the next step in a long evolution toward perfecting the impossible — accuracy in mechanical timekeeping. Smith carries the dimming torch of past masters, keeping alive, in my view, not just tradition but a measure of romance in watchmaking, steering it away from industrial production, profit margins, shareholders, and venture capitalists.

We in this field are guilty of treating nearly every new release with fanfare, with sweeping praise, with all the clichés of innovation and breakthrough. The greatest thing since sliced bread, we say, again and again. But the truth is more sobering. Not every watch is the next great thing. And perhaps, for the health of watch journalism, we should be more selective about what we choose to elevate.

When it comes to Roger W. Smith, Roger, or Mr. Smith as I feel oddly compelled to call him, a new release is rare. Roger W. Smith produces between fifteen and twenty watches a year across six distinct series, with waitlists now stretching close to a decade. And yet, in a recent interview, he admitted he has felt too quiet for too long. That silence ended with the unveiling of his Series 6, his first new production watch since the open-dial Series 5 in 2019.

If it was not obvious already, the man once known as the watchmaker’s apprentice is now undeniably the master. And to me this watch was the final proverbial nail in the coffin that has sealed his evolution beyond the shadow of the man he has called his mentor. Truth be told, he has been a master for some time, but you understand what I mean.

I will not linger on the full history of the man. If you are here, I assume you already know who he is and how his story is bound to George Daniels, may he rest in peace. Still, I would argue that Smith deserves to be considered apart from that story. We all know Socrates taught Plato who taught Aristotle, but when we speak of Plato we do not always summon Socrates into the conversation. You see the point. Nearly every article written about Roger W. Smith invokes Daniels, and I have already done the same here. But from this moment forward, I will not.

Sorry for the opening monologue, but now on to the watch…

Development and Connections to Past Watches

Carrying the throughline from Harrison to Daniels and now Smith, English watchmaking is nothing if it is not about accuracy. The Series 6 is not arriving in a vacuum. Roger W. Smith has been refining his craft for 36 years, carrying forward the Daniels Method while shaping his own voice within modern British watchmaking. Each new series is less a “collection refresh” than a philosophical continuation, where every component is reconsidered not to chase novelty, but to move British horology forward.

This is most evident in the traveling date complication, first introduced by Smith in 2014. What began as an alternative to the unbalanced, window-cut calendar displays of mainstream watchmaking has since been adopted by others, validating its importance. In the Series 6, that complication returns, refined for proportion and clarity, reinforcing Smith’s reputation for advancing ideas in a way that feels inevitable, not experimental. (More on the date in just a moment).

RW Smith Series Four with the first iteration of the traveling date aperture. It was also the 100th watch to be made under his name.

Along with the updated traveling date complication, another important advancements in the Series 6 has to be the next evolution of the co-axial escapement, the invention of his mentor, George Daniels. Smith has spent decades refining this system (since Daniels only produced 6 watches with it before his passing), and while we could easily get lost in the technical weeds, the key point is simple: the accuracy, reliability, and longevity of any watch ultimately come down to its escapement. Forget what the mainspring is made of or how finely the balance can be regulated, at the core of every timekeeper, whether a humble clock or a handmade masterpiece, lies the escapement.

When I first read Daniels’ Watchmaking, it clicked for me: once you understand what an escapement is and what it does, you begin to truly understand and appreciate how a watch works. A watch stores energy, and the escapement’s job is to release that energy in equal, measured beats. That steady tick-tock we hear, that is the escapement singing.

The evolution of the Coaxial escape wheel.

At the core is the latest evolution of Smith’s single wheel co-axial escapement, itself a continuation of Daniels’ revolutionary concept. For two decades, Smith has been quietly iterating on this system, making it more efficient, reliable, and enduring. In the Series 6, the escapement represents perhaps the most mature version yet, reducing friction, and extending service intervals.

The co-axial escapement, for all the hype surrounding it, is not flawless, but it is brilliant. Where the traditional lever escapement works by sliding, creating friction that demands constant lubrication, the co-axial reduces that sliding to more of a pushing action. Less friction means less wear and far less dependence on oil, which inevitably dries out or gums up over time.

Smith has taken Daniels’ idea and pushed it further still, developing a smaller, lighter single-wheel version. By reducing the power demands of the escapement, he has been able to use lighter mainsprings across successive generations of his watches, lowering internal stress while maintaining precision. The payoff is enormous: service intervals that go well beyond the industry standard. Owners are now seeing 15 years, sometimes even 20, before a service is required.

A Deeper Dive Into The Date Mechanism

Now onto the date mechanism. The Series 6 introduces an instantaneous date that feels far more refined than a typical calendar window. Instead of the date slowly sliding into place or cluttering the dial with an off-center aperture, Smith’s system builds up energy throughout the day and then releases it in one crisp jump at midnight. That means no more awkward half-date changes you see on most watches.

This is not necessarily a revelatory innovation but what sets it apart is how the mechanism has been constructed. Rather than using a central hand or a bulky disc, the Series 6 employs a hidden gear system around the edge of the dial that drives the date display. The date ring sits just above it, creating the illusion of a floating aperture while keeping the watch a wearable 13mm thick.

This design is a clear evolution of what Smith first explored in the Series 4 calendar and moonphase watch. Back then, he was already challenging the standard idea of how a date should be shown on a dial. With the Series 6, that idea has matured into a fully realized solution, one that is elegant, balanced, and seamlessly integrated into the watch’s architecture.

Design and Finishing

You know that through-line I mentioned about English watchmaking and accuracy? The same could be said about finishing. You can keep your Geneva stripes, give me some English graining any day.

The movement is finished with sharp right angles and delicate hand-engraving on the barrel bridge and balance cock. The bridges feature highly polished flanks. Gold chatons, (naturally) polished by hand, cradle the jewels, and the screws are heat-treated until they reach Smith’s distinctive deep blue hue. Completing the picture, the caliber bears both Smith’s signature and the Isle of Man’s triskelion emblem.

The dial is just as compelling as the movement. Balancing the proportions between the outer date display and the central floating dial comes down to the smallest of tolerances, and here it feels perfectly judged. The main dial plate is finished in either bleached silver or gold, with the option of hand-applied guilloché or intricate engraving. The distinctive spade-style hands and the traveling date aperture can be crafted in gold or in flame-blued steel, the latter displaying Smith’s signature violet-blue tone.

Smith has spoken of wanting to create “a floating dial that feels sculptural and architectural in equal measure.” The result is a watch that reads like an architectural study in depth and layering, where every element is positioned with balance in mind. All of the features from its frosted plates, black polished steel, flame blued screws, and beveled edges all play together.

At 40mm, the case size is approachable yet contemporary, neither a throwback nor a concession to modern sizes. It feels very much of its own time, a case where design clarity and structural honesty take precedence over trend or nostalgia.

My Take

There is so much one could say about Roger Smith, his history, his past creations, the long tradition of English watchmaking he represents. On a very real, almost ephemeral level, he feels like the last of his kind, the lone standard bearer keeping this dream alive. Yes, there are other watchmakers and artisans working in similar veins, but none with quite the same sense of continuity, the same grounding in tradition. It is like a grandmother’s Sunday red sauce, or your father’s ritual box of after dinner chocolates, small things that embody memory and meaning.

Smith is doing the hard work because it is what is right, what is necessary. This is not some romantic notion of craft for craft’s sake, but a mission, a passion to create something meaningful in a world awash with mass production. As a writer, a historian, and something of an old soul, I find myself gravitating to watches like this, and to the minds behind them, because they feel right. They feel like a warm fire on a cold winter night.

You can argue endlessly about the price, £320,000 is far beyond what most of us will ever spend on a watch, but that misses the point. I can appreciate things I will never own simply because they exist. Their presence in the world is reason enough, and that in itself is something special. There is, of course, a place in our world for mass production, for scrappy microbrands, and vintage collecting, but there is also a place for Mr. Smith and his creations.