Time Reconsidered: Why the Universal Genève Ferrovie dello Stato Is The Railroad Watch To Rule Them All
The story of the Universal Genève FS—and why the most meaningful watches are the ones that carry history, not status.
I don’t believe in grail watches. I believe in lists. My list is a future collection, a mental inventory of watches I admire, covet, obsess over, and, in many cases, will probably never own. Every now and then, something on that list stops me cold.
That happened again recently, when a watch I first added sometime around 2015 resurfaced and demanded attention: the Universal Genève Ferrovie dello Stato, better known simply as the UG FS.
I’ve added this watch to more eBay and Chrono24 carts than I care to admit. I’ve talked myself into it, out of it, and back into it again. And yet, despite all of that familiarity, I realized I’d never really reconsidered it. That makes it the perfect watch to kick off this year’s Time Reconsidered series.
I’ve never hidden my affection for Universal Genève. Like many collectors, I’m eagerly awaiting the brand’s long-anticipated revival under the guidance of Breitling and Georges Kern. But the FS isn’t the Universal Genève most people picture first. It isn’t a Nina Rindt. It isn’t a Tri-Compax. It certainly isn’t a Polerouter. Those watches deserve every ounce of praise they get.
The watch is generally still attainable, with most models just shy of the $1K price tag. In a vintage UG landscape where quality pieces have become increasingly untouchable, the FS stands out not as a consolation prize, but as a reminder of what watch collecting is supposed to be about.
History, Railways, Time, And A New Italy
To understand the FS, you have to start with railroads. And to understand railroads, you have to understand time.
The story of modern timekeeping cannot be told without trains. Railroads didn’t just shrink distance; they forced the world to agree on what “now” actually meant. Time zones exist because trains needed them. Schedules demanded synchronization. Local noon stopped being practical the moment steel tracks connected cities moving at unprecedented speed.
Universal Genève was far from alone in producing watches for railroad service. In the United States, brands like Hamilton and the Ball Watch Company were the true standard-bearers, supplying timepieces that met strict railroad certification requirements. These watches were engineered for demanding conditions, with features such as magnetic protection, improved shock resistance, and highly legible dials designed to be read at a glance, even in poor light. It wouldn’t be until later that Omega entered the conversation, applying the same functional principles to the Railmaster as rail-adjacent needs evolved beyond the American system.
Long before Universal Genève existed as a brand, its roots were already intertwined with Italy — and with the language of railways. Trademark records show that in October 1893, a rail-themed mark featuring a wagon and the word Ferrovia was registered in Le Locle by P. Baillod-Houriet. That same mark was formally transferred in 1894 to Descombes & Perret, the firm that would soon operate under the “Universal Watch” name, and again in 1897 to Perret & Berthoud.
By 1901, the lineage had evolved further, with Perret & Berthoud registering Cronometro per Ferrovie for watches and watch components. These early trademarks do not point to an official supply contract with the Italian State Railways, but they do reveal something more subtle and just as important: from its very beginnings, Universal’s predecessor firms were deliberately positioning themselves within the Italian market using railway imagery and nomenclature, aligning precision timekeeping with the symbolism and prestige of rail transport decades before the famous FS wristwatches would appear.
During the Fascist era, the Italian watchmaker Perseo held exclusive rights to supply watches to Ferrovie dello Stato employees. That changed in the postwar period. By the 1950s, as Italy rebuilt itself, the railway began offering workers a choice: pocket watch or wristwatch, multiple suppliers, personal preference within a professional framework.
This is when Universal Genève entered the picture. Already respected for its chronographs and complicated watches, UG became one of the approved suppliers for Ferrovie dello Stato employees. What emerged was not a marketing exercise, but a true employee watch — issued for work, built for purpose, and worn daily.
In that sense, the FS is something like the grandfather of the watches collectors love to talk about today: Pan Am–signed GMTs, Domino’s Rolexes, corporate-issued Omegas. Before any of that became romanticized, the FS existed quietly on the wrists of working Italians, keeping trains on time and on track.
In Italy, railroads carried even greater symbolic weight. They represented unity, progress, and national identity — sometimes exploited, sometimes earned. Under Fascism, the rail system became a tool of propaganda. By the end of World War II, it was also in ruins.
What followed was one of the most important transformations in Italy’s modern history. The Ferrovie dello Stato was rebuilt almost from scratch. New lines were laid. Electrification expanded. The groundwork for high-speed rail was established. What had once been a symbol of authoritarian spectacle was reimagined as something else entirely: a marker of renewal, mobility, and possibility.
Railway workers became part of that story. They weren’t just employees — they were stewards of movement, stability, and modern life. In many ways, they came to represent freedom and prosperity in motion. And the watches they wore mattered.
The Universal Genève FS
The Universal Genève Ferrovie dello Stato was produced across three distinct series between the mid-1960s and the mid-1970s, a relatively short window that nevertheless captures a period of rapid aesthetic and industrial change. While the cases, dials, and proportions evolved, the core brief from the Italian State Railway remained remarkably consistent: a highly legible wristwatch, modestly sized by modern standards, with a clean white dial, Arabic numerals, and a subsidiary seconds display at six o’clock.
Across all three iterations, the FS was powered by Universal Genève’s manually wound caliber 64 (which is eerily similar to the Omega 30T2RG). It’s a no-nonsense movement, which is the nicest way to describe a mechanical movement that is non-hacking, non-chronometer rated, but reliable, slim, and generally easy to service.
Every example was engraved on the caseback with “FS” along with a unique serial number. Unlike many military or employee-issued watches where production figures are speculative at best, the sequential numbering here allows for educated estimates. In total, roughly 82,000 Universal Genève FS wristwatches appear to have been produced between 1964 and 1975, with the vast majority belonging to the second series.
First Series (circa 1964–1966)
The earliest FS, and still the one I find myself chasing most often, is the First Series. These watches feature a 34mm case with white enamel dial, that gets, dare I say it, creamy with age. When scouring online for these, pay special attention to the enamel dials as many are in poor condition.
The Arabic numerals are stamped from the reverse of the dial, creating raised forms that are then filled in dark paint, offering excellent contrast and depth. The small seconds register at six o’clock has radially printed numerals, which just looks really good. Look closely and you’ll spot another tell: the “6” in 60 is wide open, a small detail that has become a shorthand for identifying early examples.
Many collectors, myself included, seek out the Mark I for its faceted case, slightly smaller size, and radial subdial layout. Produced only for a brief period, the First Series is significantly rarer than what followed, and finding one in strong, original condition has become increasingly difficult.
Second Series (circa 1969–1974)
The Second Series marks the most substantial visual shift in the FS lineage, and also accounts for nearly 70 percent of total production. Here, Universal Genève moved to a larger 36mm cushion-shaped case with broader proportions and 19mm lug spacing, aligning more closely with late-1960s design trends.
Despite the new case, much of the dial DNA remains intact. The white enamel dial returns, as do the stamped Arabic numerals. On the sub-seconds register, the numerals are now printed straight rather than radially, the “6” in 60 is tightened up, and no longer fully open, though not entirely closed either.
Third Series (circa 1974–1975)
The Third Series represents the final chapter of the FS story — and the most visually distinct. The cushion case remains, but the dial takes a sharp turn. Gone is the enamel; in its place is a silver dial with a more modern, utilitarian feel.
The typography shifts as well. The sub-seconds register features smaller, straighter printing with concentric circles, and the Arabic numerals appear to be applied rather than stamped. Below six o’clock, the dial now reads simply “Swiss,” replacing the earlier “Swiss Made.” It’s a quieter, more restrained execution.
Production numbers for the Third Series are exceedingly small. Based on known serial ranges, as few as 1,500 examples may have been made, all toward the very end of Universal Genève’s involvement with the FS program.
A Note for Anyone Looking: Correct crowns across all series remain a point of debate, but evidence suggests that a signed Universal Genève crown bearing a capital “U” is appropriate. As with much vintage collecting, originality here is part documentation, part informed consensus.
Why This One Matters to Me
When I look at the watches on my list, the ones I want and the ones I admire, it is hard not to notice how disconnected many of them really are. Some are aspirational in the most obvious way. We see Steve McQueen, James Dean, James Bond. We see our boss’s gold watch and imagine what it might say about us if it were on our wrist instead. None of that is wrong. We all use objects, watches included, to project identity, to borrow a little meaning, a little confidence, a little cool.
The Universal Genève FS is undeniably cool, but not in a way that tries to impress. It is not going to upend horological history, and it does not pretend to be some revelatory act of design. What it does instead is something far rarer. It connects.
Universal Genève was one of the first vintage brands I encountered in the earliest, most formative years of my collecting. Long before I understood movements or production numbers, I wanted a UG. That desire never faded, only my ability to act on it did. The FS, in many ways, feels like the most honest expression of that early fascination.
And while it was not made in Italy, its roots are inseparable from it. This watch represents a moment of rebuilding, of forward motion, of life after authoritarianism. It was worn by railway workers, people like those in my own family, who quite literally kept the country moving. There is something quietly powerful about wearing a watch that stands in opposition to the regime my grandparents fled, transformed instead into a symbol of work, dignity, and progress.
Italy will always have a place in my heart. Not just because of heritage, but because of memory. A babymoon spent driving through the Dolomites and hiking along impossibly blue alpine lakes. A best friend’s wedding on the Grand Canal in Venice. Family trips to Florence. Moments measured not just in minutes, but in motion, always on trains, always between places, always headed somewhere new.
To wear a Universal Genève FS is to carry all of that on my wrist. A piece of personal history intertwined with a broader one. A watch tied to the railroads that reshaped how we organize, understand, and experience time itself.
And that, to me, is what watch collecting is really about. It’s not about trophies or speculation, but stories that move with you and matter because they are yours.
*Feature Photo Image provided by Fratello Watches.