Glashütte · Est. 1998 · Four hands
Four watchmakers. One bench each. A movement leaves this workshop only when the last of us would keep it. Sixty is not a target — it is the number a single pair of hands can finish without hurrying.
Vollmer began when Anselm Vollmer left a large manufacture in the valley and took two benches into a former schoolhouse on the edge of town. He had watched good movements pass through too many hands to be anyone's work.
Here, one watchmaker follows a single watch from raw plate to final regulation. The bridges they anglage are the bridges they will see through the caseback. There is no line, no target, no investor asking for more.
What that costs us in scale, it returns in the only currency we keep: a watch that was made, entirely, by someone whose name you can learn.
Each is built to order. Prices are in euro, before local duty. Waiting time begins the day your deposit clears.
The watch we would keep if we could keep only one. Three hands, small seconds, a dial finished in frosted German silver. Everything decorative has already been removed.
A running display of the mainspring's remaining will, arced across the left of the dial. The seconds sit opposite. Wind it on a Monday and it forgives a forgetful weekend.
A single hand-engraved moon crosses a lacquered night sky, accurate to a day's drift over 122 years. The one romance we allow ourselves, kept in proportion.
The whole workshop touches this one. A flying tourbillon under a black-polished bridge, visible through the dial. We make no more than six a year, and some years fewer.
The movement
The caseback is sapphire, but most of our finishing lives where light rarely reaches. We do it anyway. It is the only part of the craft that answers to conscience alone.
There is no floor, no department, no "the team." There are four benches under the same north light. When you own a Vollmer, you own the work of a person you could sit beside.
Left the valley in 1998. Regulates every movement himself before it is cased.
Trained in Le Locle. Her bevels are the reason we photograph in raking light.
Builds every Referenz Vier cage. Once spent a week on a single black-polished cock.
Anselm's daughter. Every moon on a Referenz Drei is cut by her hand.
The list is not a marketing device. It is arithmetic: four hands, sixty watches, and a decision to never make sixty-one. Here is exactly how it works.
No configurator, no cart. A conversation about which reference is right, and whether you are content to wait years for it.
A deposit of twenty percent secures your position. Your waiting time begins the day it clears, not before.
One watchmaker takes your watch from plate to regulation. You will know their name, and may visit the bench.
When it is right and not a day sooner. We would rather return your deposit than deliver something we would not keep.
Make contact
The list opens each quarter and closes when it is full. Write to us, and we will reply — from one of four benches, by one of four names.