I bought an Apple Watch. I didn't preorder it, because at first I didn't even want one. I warned people who asked me about the company's first wearable: These things (Apple things) always get much better on the second attempt. Apple's product history, perhaps even more so than other tech companies, is peppered with examples: the substantially thinner second iPad, the next iPhone that had 3G data, the MacBook Air sequel that had decent battery life and a slimmer design. Despite knowing that, something changed for me. I became an early adopter.
Our Editor-in-Chief Michael Gorman has already tested the Apple Watch. Thanks to a handful of early positive-but-with-caveat reviews and even more previews in the run-up to launch, I knew what it could do. Still, I felt like there must be a way that the watch would effortlessly dovetail into my life, reducing the need to constantly paw my phone and further lowering the barrier between myself and technology.
I'm not sure if it was Apple offering three different tiers of entry, or its plan to literally strap it to tastemakers and celebrities before mere muggles could buy one, but come launch day, I was intrigued. I called up my closest exclusive fashion boutique and made an appointment for a consultation. I wanted the old-school retail hit. The cold, hard sting that can only happen when you physically open your wallet to pay for This Thing You Want Right Now. To the tune of seven hundred dollars. Weeks later, it still stings.