Nautical but Nice
Panerai have redefined luxury not as material excess but access to unique experiences. THE RAKE was drafted into the Italian military, and lived to tell the tale... and what a tale.
When I boarded the flight to Puglia, Italy, I had no idea I was about to embark on one of the most extraordinary experiences of my life. Sure, I’d signed the medical forms and received the cryptic training protocol weeks earlier, but nothing could have prepared me for what Panerai had orchestrated in partnership with the Italian military. This wasn’t just another press trip or brand event. This was something entirely different — an immersion in the world of Italy’s naval and air forces, reserved exclusively for collectors who had purchased the Submersible Chrono Marina Militare Experience edition watch. As one of just three journalists among roughly 30 participants from around the world, I was about to witness luxury redefined not as material excess but as access to the inaccessible.
I’d been aware of Panerai’s experiential programme for some time, watching from the sidelines as the brand forged ahead with something no other watchmaker was doing quite like this. Since 2019 it had created limited-edition watches that served as keys for unlocking once-in-a-lifetime adventures. It began that year with the Comsubin Experience in La Spezia, where 33 collectors joined Italy’s elite naval special forces, followed by a free-diving expedition in French Polynesia with Guillaume Néry. The following years brought an eclectic mix: mountaineering with photographer Jimmy Chin in Jackson Hole, Wyoming; cultural immersion in Kyoto with actor Takashi Sorimachi; sailing aboard the legendary yacht Eilean off Positano; and even a brutal Navy SEALs training experience in Florida that, by all accounts, pushed participants to their limits. Perhaps most audacious was the 2023 North Pole Experience with explorer Mike Horn, which took 19 collectors to Svalbard in Norway. The adventure I found myself on was a trip back to the roots of Panerai — to the heart of the Italian navy.
The adventure began at five in the morning, dressed head-to-toe in uniform that had been laid out on my hotel bed the night before. We boarded military buses — the kind you see in war films — and made the hour-long journey to the naval docks. There, moored alongside vessels from navies around the world, was the Navale Carabinieri, our home for the day. What struck me was how seriously everyone took this. And rightfully so. The flag-raising ceremony wasn’t some staged photo opportunity: we stood in ranks, saluted the captain, and became part of the daily military ritual. These weren’t event co- ordinators playing dress-up — these were real naval personnel who had opened their world to us in an unprecedented way.
The day unfolded through a series of rotations. In the command station I found myself role-playing an active assault scenario, screaming into the tannoy as enemy fighter jets approached, calling out defensive positions. We learnt how to load missiles into weapons systems, fought fires in full firefighting gear, and ate lunch in the crew cafeteria alongside the men and women who serve. Every moment was meticulously organised, because as one officer told me, “the one thing we do in the military is logistics, really, really well”. Yet nothing felt rehearsed or artificial.
Day two brought new kit — green Air Force fatigues — and a new adventure with the Reparti Aerea. At seven in the morning, standing in the courtyard, I belted out the Italian national anthem during another flag ceremony and thought, What on earth is happening? This is bonkers.
The activities escalated. Night-vision-goggle training. Helicopter-maintenance workshops. Fighter-jet simulations. And then came the pièce de résistance: the ocean retrieval exercise. We were to be placed in the sea and helicoptered out, exactly as injured personnel or civilians would be rescued in real operations. Except, on the first trip, the helicopter winch broke. I couldn’t help but chuckle, imagining those first collectors, bobbing in the Mediterranean, Panerais on their wrists, watching the helicopter turn back due to technical difficulties. That’s when it hit me — this was the real deal. We were in the thick of it.
What made the experience transcendent wasn’t just the activities but the people. The Italian military personnel — pilots, maintenance crews, logistics staff — displayed pride and professionalism. These are people who navigate the Mediterranean better than almost anyone, operating some of the most advanced fighter jets in the world, the same models flown by the U.S. Air Force.
One moment will stay with me for ever. A serviceman who had looked after our group all day removed a badge from his own chest and pinned it to mine. I felt the hairs on my neck stand up. This man had spent years earning that uniform, that badge, that position. I was wearing it for a day. The humility of his gesture, the generosity of spirit — it was almost overwhelming.
We were to be placed in the sea and helicoptered out... except, on the first trip, the helicopter winch broke.
At day’s end we gathered for the weekly barbecue, a tradition on these camps to help personnel cope with being away from family. The base commander, a big character, let the beers flow. There was local meat, dancing, celebration. Collectors from South Africa, Australia, China, Singapore, Hong Kong, Germany, Texas and beyond came together not as strangers for a brand but as people who had shared something profound.
Throughout these two exhausting, exhilarating days, watches were almost beside the point. Yes, people wore their Panerais — not just the limited-edition Experience watches retailing at $68,000 but pieces from across the collection. Yes, I spotted Panerai instruments made before the Richemont acquisition still in use on naval vessels. But there were no presentations, no sales pitches, no forced brand messaging. This was 98 per cent Italian military experience and maybe two per cent watch brand. That’s precisely what made it so powerful.
Having observed Panerai’s experience programme from afar for years, finally participating revealed the genius of their approach. Looking at the roster over the past five years — from diving with world-record free divers to training with elite special forces, from Arctic expeditions to Mediterranean sailing — each experience connects authentically to Panerai’s DNA: the sea, exploration, Italian military heritage, and partnership with extraordinary individuals pushing human boundaries.
In an industry often criticised for delivering diminishing value at the point of sale, Panerai has created something genuinely valuable: authentic human connection, unrepeatable experiences, and stories that will be told for decades. Those collectors left as lifetime ambassadors not because they were sold to but because they were given access to a world most people, regardless of wealth, could never enter. The experiential approach solves a problem the watch industry has struggled with for years: how do you create value and community in an era in which merely purchasing an expensive object feels increasingly hollow? By making ownership a gateway to extraordinary human experiences rather than just another transaction, Panerai has found an answer that no other brand has replicated at this scale or with this level of authenticity.
As I left Puglia, exhausted but emotionally energised, I understood something fundamental. What Panerai is offering might well be the ultimate expression of luxury in today’s market — not another limited-edition dial variation or incremental technical improvement but access to the truly inaccessible. It’s about brands investing not just in products but in their communities, their stories, their people. Judging by the reaction when people hear about this trip, they have tapped into something profound. Panerai are coming back, and I am here for it. Because no matter how eloquently I describe it, you truly had to be there. Which is exactly the point.
