Gerald Genta Skeleton Automatic

This is Gerald Genta completely unfiltered—an uncensored dispatch from the brain that gave us the AP Royal Oak, Patek Nautilus, the Omega Constellation, the Bulgari-Bulgari and many others. You know, the foundational pillars of modern horology. Except here, he’s not pleasing a brand. He’s not answering to a board. He’s making exactly what he wants—and it's borderline baroque in the best way possible.

Let’s start with the obvious: the dial is no dial at all. Fully skeletonized plates and bridges show the automatic train from barrel to balance, with hand‑finished edges and heat‑blued screws peeking through. The hands float like ink strokes over a lattice of wheels and ruby‑set pivots. Legibility holds, even with the theatre running behind it.

Diameter sits at a generous 34 mm, framed by Genta’s neat bullet‑style lugs. The bezel is two‑tone and split into four alternating quadrants—yellow gold, then white, then yellow, then white—each paved with factory diamonds. It’s a clever way to make precious metal feel rhythmic rather than loud.

Attached to this extravaganza is an 18K gold bracelet that deserves its own gallery show. It’s woven in a dual-tone pattern that ripples like snakeskin under light—equal parts Roman armor and Milanese sensuality. Flip the clasp and you’ll find his GG monogram discreetly tucked beside the 750 hallmark, a wave from the man himself.

Turn it over and the automatic story continues. Genta shifts the mass to an off‑center rotor, also set with factory diamonds, so you can keep watching the gear train without obstruction. Around the sapphire window, you’ll find his name quietly engraved on the caseback ring, like a painter who signs behind the canvas. He wasn’t trying to sell you something. He was simply showing you what happens when no one’s looking over his shoulder.

Once the fundamentals sink in, the surprises appear. The crown holds a diamond. Each end of the lugs gets a pair of diamonds. The rotor’s stones flash as it swings. These are the easter eggs you catch on the second or third pass, the kind that make ownership feel like an ongoing discovery.

This is the Gerald Genta Automatic Skeleton: an unsponsored fever dream of originality, function, and detail. And owning one feels like discovering a lost manuscript from a master—only this one ticks.