One of the most enjoyable parts of collecting vintage watches is finding pieces that others overlook.

Not every interesting watch comes from an auction house or dealer. Sometimes they’re sitting quietly on Facebook Marketplace, buried among smartwatches, fashion brands, and household items.

This Ernest Borel Sea Gem was one of those finds.

The asking price was NZD $50 + $7 shipping, probably fair given the unknown service history and heavily damaged crystal. Still, for a vintage Swiss watch with an honest-looking dial, it felt like a risk worth taking.

First Impressions

When the watch arrived, it was clear that it had seen decades of use.

The acrylic crystal was heavily scratched and cracked, obscuring much of the dial beneath. The strap it came with is the stretch type which was popular back in the good old days, and the gold-plated case showed the sort of honest wear you’d expect from a watch of this vintage.

Despite its condition, there were plenty of encouraging signs.

The watch was running, which is always a good start, and through the damaged crystal I could make out an untouched dial with attractive ageing. The applied numerals and markers suggested this wasn’t just another generic vintage dress watch.

It looked like a watch that deserved a closer look.

What is Ernest Borel?

Founded in Neuchâtel, Switzerland in 1856, Ernest Borel is one of the oldest Swiss watch brands and remains in business today.

The company became particularly famous during the mid-twentieth century for its unusual Cocktail watches, which featured rotating kaleidoscope-style dials that created mesmerizing patterns as the watch ran. Those models remain highly collectible today and are often the first watches enthusiasts associate with the Ernest Borel name.

The Sea Gem, however, comes from the more traditional side of the catalogue. Rather than relying on novelty, it focused on classic Swiss dress watch styling and everyday elegance.

Initial Inspection

Before disassembly, I began examining the case more closely.

One detail that immediately caught my attention was a stamp between the lugs reading:

PLAQUE 6 20 EPSA

These small markings often reveal more about a watch than people realize.

The term “Plaque” refers to the gold-plated construction of the case. The “20” generally indicates approximately 20 microns of gold plating, which was considered a quality specification for the period and significantly better than the thinner plating found on many budget watches.

The most interesting marking, however, is “EPSA.”

This stands for Ervin Piquerez S.A., one of Switzerland’s most respected case manufacturers. Watch collectors often associate EPSA with the famous Super Compressor cases used by brands such as Jaeger-LeCoultre, Longines, IWC, and others.

While this Sea Gem is certainly not a dive watch, discovering an EPSA-made case was a pleasant surprise and another indication that this wasn’t a cheaply made watch.

The “6” is believed to be an internal manufacturing or case reference used by the case maker.

Opening the Case

Getting inside the watch turned out to be more challenging than expected.

The case back was exceptionally tight and refused to move with my normal tools.

Eventually I reached for my heavy-duty case back remover—the large bench-mounted type that lowers onto the case back before a round handle is twisted to apply controlled torque.

Thankfully, that finally broke the seal.

Sometimes half the battle with vintage watches is simply getting inside without damaging anything.

Discovering the Movement

Once the case back was removed, I was able to confirm what I had suspected.

Inside was an FHF 67 manual-wind movement.

Produced by Fabrique d’Horlogerie de Fontainemelon, the FHF 67 was a widely used Swiss movement found in many quality watches throughout the 1940s and 1950s.

For vintage watch restorers, finding an FHF movement is usually good news. They’re known for being reliable, straightforward to service, and capable of running well even after decades of neglect.

Even better, this particular movement was already ticking when the watch arrived.

That doesn’t automatically mean it’s healthy, but it’s certainly a promising sign.

Disassembly and Servicing

Whenever I work on watches from this era, I try to be cautious around the dial and hands.

Many watches from the 1940s and 1950s used radium-based lume, and without a Geiger counter it’s difficult to know exactly what you’re dealing with. As a precaution, I wore a mask while handling the dial and hands during disassembly.

The movement was then completely stripped down for cleaning and inspection.

Fortunately, there were no nasty surprises waiting inside.

No broken balance staff, no significant corrosion, and no obvious signs of previous repair attempts gone wrong.

After cleaning, lubrication, and reassembly, the FHF 67 returned to life beautifully.

There’s something incredibly satisfying about watching a seventy-year-old movement start ticking confidently again after a proper service.

The Dial Reveals Itself

The single biggest transformation came from replacing the crystal.

The original acrylic crystal had deteriorated to the point where it hid much of the watch’s character. Once the new crystal was installed, the dial finally revealed itself.

What I initially thought was a silver dial had aged into a beautiful creamy tone.

The patina is remarkably even across the dial and gives the watch a warmth that simply can’t be replicated. It’s one of those examples where age has genuinely improved the appearance rather than detracting from it.

Another detail that caught my attention was the unusual numeral layout.

Most dress watches emphasize the familiar 3, 6, 9, and 12 positions. This Sea Gem instead uses applied Arabic numerals at the even positions: 2, 4, 6, 8, 10, and 12, while the remaining hours are represented by simple applied markers.

It’s the first time I’ve personally encountered this arrangement, and it gives the dial a distinctive character that’s difficult to ignore once you notice it.

Combined with the creamy patina and gold-tone accents, the watch ended up looking far better than I ever expected from the marketplace photos.

Most importantly, the dial remains completely original.

There was never any temptation to refinish it.

You can only have an original dial once.

Finishing the Look

With the movement serviced and the crystal replaced, the final step was presentation.

I fitted a leather strap that felt more appropriate for the watch’s age and style, instantly giving it a more refined appearance.

I’m still on the hunt for a strap with a matching gold-tone buckle, as the stainless buckle currently fitted doesn’t quite complement the case.

It’s a small detail, but vintage watches often come down to small details.

The Real Reward

Will this become a huge-money flip?

Probably not.

Vintage Ernest Borel dress watches occupy a modest corner of the market, and that’s perfectly fine. Not every restoration needs to produce a massive return.

What makes projects like this rewarding is the process itself.

A forgotten Swiss watch discovered on Facebook Marketplace. An EPSA case. A reliable FHF 67 movement. A cracked crystal hiding a beautiful creamy dial. A few hours spent at the workbench bringing it all back to life.

For $57, that’s difficult to complain about.

Whether it eventually finds a new owner or spends a little longer in my collection, this Ernest Borel Sea Gem serves as a reminder that some of the most satisfying watch projects aren’t the expensive ones.

Sometimes they’re simply the watches that deserve a second chance.