George Bamford is one of those names that comes with weight in both cars and watches. Most people know him through Bamford Watch Department, where he turned personalization into a proper business and eventually into collaborations with some of the biggest names in horology. But sitting down with him, what stands out isn’t the brand or the collaborations. It’s his philosophy: objects aren’t meant to sit behind glass. They’re meant to live.
That belief has shaped his entire approach to collecting. His Ferraris get driven. His Land Rovers haul around his kids. His watches pick up scratches on his wrist. And in every case, those marks, repairs, and rebuilds aren’t flaws but proof of life.
From the Garage Floor to the Driver’s Seat
George grew up around machinery. His father runs JCB, the construction equipment company, and his weekends weren’t spent at concours events but in the workshop. Welding, stripping engines, listening to his dad call out the note of a V8 or V12 before the car even appeared.
One of his earliest memories is riding in an AC Cobra, the kind of car that teaches you about balance and fear in equal measure. It wasn’t about status. It was about intimacy, the smell, the sound, the twitch of the rear end as the car threatened to break loose. Those early lessons cemented a philosophy that still defines him: you don’t just own a car, you live with it.
Cars That Refuse to Sit Still
Collectors often wrestle with the question of preservation. Do you keep the odometer low, the paint flawless, the leather sealed? George has no patience for that mindset. He laughs about the pandemic, when some of his cars sat dormant for months. The result: a Ferrari needing an engine rebuild, a Land Rover plagued with tire issues, and one car with wiring eaten through by a mouse.
For him, that was proof enough. Cars need to move. Watches need to tick on the wrist. Anything else is slow death.
The Ferrari That Came Back
One story in particular captures his approach. Years ago, he sold a black-on-black Ferrari 550 Maranello to make way for an Aston Martin DB9 Volante, the “new hot thing” at the time. Almost immediately, he knew it was the wrong decision.
It took nearly a year of searching, but eventually he tracked down the exact same car and brought it back into his garage. The memories that came with it were as valuable as the V12 under the hood: spinning it in a tunnel after hitting damp pavement, trying to restart it outside a nightclub, his girlfriend calling him a “wanker” mid-adventure. Those moments, good and bad, are the reason it’s his again.
Oddities, Land Rovers, and Springsteen
George doesn’t just chase the obvious. He loves quirks. His BMW Z1, with its disappearing doors and body panels that reflect a subtle “Z,” is a perfect example. Most dismissed it as an oddity, but for him it’s delight in metal form.
And then there are the Land Rovers. He caps his spending on them at about £2,500, but within that boundary he’s built a fleet that oozes personality. A Series II pickup with a crane became a family project, each member painting their own logo on it. A beach buggy kit built with his son, complete with pink seatbelts, became a bonding exercise disguised as a car. And whenever he drives the pickup, Bruce Springsteen is the only soundtrack allowed, a ritual that stuck even though he wasn’t a fan before.
Beyond the Garage
Ferraris may be the romance, but George’s curiosity runs wide. He almost launched Bamford Auto Department, a car-customization arm to mirror his watch business, but ultimately pulled back. Watches, he decided, were his true wheelhouse. Still, the designs remain in a folder somewhere, a reminder that bandwidth matters even when the imagination runs wild.
He doesn’t shy away from calling out what leaves him cold either. Modern Ferraris like the Roma don’t stir him, while the era of the 355, 456, and 550 holds his heart. He sees today’s misunderstood models, the Maserati MC20, the Polestar, even the Dino in its own time, as the future’s hidden gems. That perspective, valuing the overlooked, isn’t far from what past guests like Todd Levin or Barry Friedman have said about collecting in their own fields.
The Collectors Gene Rundown
The One That Got Away: A BMW Z1, passed on years ago and still a sore spot.
The On Deck Circle: Limited edition collaborations from outlets like Hodinkee, Revolution, and Time + Tide. He believes these small-run watches are the future of serious collecting.
The Unobtainable: The TAG Heuer Monaco V4 Carbon and the “Dark Lord” Monaco, both elusive grails.
The Page One Re-Write: If he could start over with an entirely new category, George would collect photography. From Margaret Bourke-White to Don McCullin, he sees photographs as moments frozen in time that tell human stories better than almost anything else.
The GOAT: He avoids idolizing other collectors, preferring to admire anyone bold enough to collect against the grain.
The Hunt or The Ownership: Both matter to him. The thrill of finding and the satisfaction of rebuilding and living with an object are inseparable.
Do You Feel That You Were Born With The Collector’s Gene?: Absolutely. From comics in childhood to his son’s Pokémon trades, he sees it as something inherited and nurtured.
Closing Thoughts
What I took away from George is that collecting, at its best, is active. The value isn’t just in pristine examples or market curves, but in the quirks, the breakdowns, and the stories that form when you use the objects you love. His Ferraris, Land Rovers, and watches aren’t trophies. They’re partners in life, carrying memories that only come from driving, wearing, and occasionally fixing them.
It’s a reminder that the collectors gene isn’t about stockpiling. It’s about living with what you collect and letting the patina of experience matter just as much as the object itself.
