By Brent Robillard
The Moonwatch
There is a small occupational hazard in calling yourself @calibre321 on Instagram. Eventually, someone expects you to have something sensible to say about the calibre 321. I suppose this is my opportunity. Please bear with me.
During my recent visit to Kaplans in Stockholm, I photographed an Omega Speedmaster Professional 145.012 dating to around 1968. It is among the watches assembled for the November Important Watches auction, and it offers a very good explanation for the enthusiasm surrounding those three little digits. Here is the familiar Moonwatch shape, with a movement from the years when the whole lunar business was still being worked out.

For two years now, I have visited Kaplans ahead of its autumn sale. These visits have become an opportunity to spend time with watches I usually encounter in books, auction listings, or someone else’s collection. But there is nothing like having the real thing in hand. And the 145.012 has quite a lot going for it.
The Rolex Oyster Perpetual Cosmograph Daytona 16520
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The final chapter
Introduced in 1967, it belongs to the final chapter of the original calibre 321 Speedmaster. Its successor, the 145.022, introduced the calibre 861 in 1968. Production and deliveries overlapped, as they often did, but the distinction remains useful: the 145.012 carries the earlier movement within the broad-shouldered Professional case that still looks familiar today.
The example at Kaplans is catalogued with a 145.012-67 SP case back, a 42 mm steel case, an acrylic crystal, and a leather strap. Kaplans dates it to approximately 1968. That “-67” suffix and the later approximate date are perfectly compatible; the case-back designation is not a birth certificate for the completed watch.
Even without turning it over, there is plenty to enjoy. The twisted lugs and asymmetrical case give the crown and pushers some protection. The three registers spread their work sensibly across the dial: running seconds at nine, elapsed minutes at three, and elapsed hours at six. It is a layout you can understand at a glance, which helps explain why generations of Speedmasters have kept it.

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Dot Over 90
Then there is the bezel. Kaplans identifies this one as “DO90,” more commonly called “DON,” or dot over ninety. Look at the 90 on the tachymetre scale and the little dot sits above it. Later bezels moved that dot alongside the number.
Yes, we have reached the stage of collecting where punctuation matters. I’m an editor. I can hardly object.
The detail helps identify a period bezel, although it cannot establish the originality of an entire watch. It also gives you an idea of how closely these Speedmasters have been studied. Something the original owner might never have noticed can become the first thing a collector looks for nearly sixty years later.
Of course, the reason my Instagram handle is not @dotover90 is hidden beneath the case back.

Calibre 321
The original calibre 321 is a hand-wound, 17-jewel chronograph. Its column wheel coordinates the chronograph’s operations, while a lateral coupling engages the mechanism that measures elapsed time. In plain language, pressing the pusher sets a small mechanical sequence in motion. Levers move, wheels connect, and the central chronograph hand begins its trip around the dial.
The 321 also connects the Speedmaster to a wider history of Swiss collaboration. Its roots lie in Omega’s work with Lemania, and it powered the first Speedmaster in 1957. That shared expertise is part of what draws me to older watches. So much interesting watchmaking grew out of companies working together.

NASA
Then came NASA. The calibre powered the 105.003 tested and qualified for the space programme, as well as the 105.012 associated with the first lunar landing. Michael Collins wore a 145.012 during Apollo 11, remaining in lunar orbit while Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin descended to the surface. That is an important distinction when discussing this reference. Its place in the Apollo story is substantial enough without borrowing another watch’s exact role.

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The Speedmaster Heritage
My own Speedmaster interests have always allowed room for a few detours. Readers may remember my Speedmaster 125, the substantial anniversary model introduced in 1973. I bought mine as a suitably watch-obsessed way of approaching my fiftieth birthday. The model shared my birth year.
With its modular case, integrated bracelet, and considerable presence, the 125 looks ready to supervise the construction of a space station. It also earned a genuine place in watchmaking history as the first chronometer-certified automatic chronograph. Its movement is calibre 1041. Apparently, even my own collection refuses to respect the branding.
That watch is one reason I enjoy the Speedmaster family so much. Our look through its icons and oddities barely exhausted the possibilities. There is room for the 125’s exuberance, the early references’ restraint, and the experiments that followed.
More recently, comparing the First Omega in Space with the white-dial Moonwatch reminded me how much personality can change within a recognisable design. The white-dial Speedmaster surprised me in person. That remains a good argument for spending time with watches before deciding you have them figured out.

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Final Thoughts
The 145.012 adds another consideration: age. I like the fact that a vintage watch has existed through decades of ordinary life. Its appeal includes the material that has survived, the maintenance it has received, and the questions still worth asking.
Omega clearly understood the enduring attachment to the mechanism when it announced the return of calibre 321 in 2019. That revival gave contemporary collectors another way into the story. An original 145.012 offers the particular appeal of a watch made while that history was unfolding.
This example is lot 52 in Kaplans’ Important Watches auction on November 14, 2026. The listed estimate, or opening bid, is SEK 31,000 (or CA$4,500), with bidding already well above that figure at the time of writing. The auction page carries the current bidding and condition information.
For me, the attraction is easy to understand. A familiar, useful chronograph, a movement worth getting to know, and a very specific place in the Speedmaster’s history. I can admire all of that and still go home happily to my oversized 125.
Although @calibre321 probably owes this one a little more camera time.
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About the Author
Brent Robillard is a writer, educator, craftsman, and watch enthusiast. He is the author of four novels. You can follow him on Instagram.
Take Two articles are full-length, hands-on reviews of vintage and preowned watches and represent the opinion of the author only. All photos are original, unless specified otherwise.
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