We Went To G-Shock's 40th Anniversary 'Shock The World' Party In New York City
Photography by Elena Saviano
Presented by
Last week, G-SHOCK celebrated a whopping 40 years of the gold-plated Titan, drawing every watch enthusiast from the five boroughs into the Manhattan Center to geek out about all the varying ways in which one can keep time.
I remember owning a G-SHOCK when I was maybe ten, probably younger. I mentioned this to every person I introduced myself to, it being my only timepiece-related anecdote, and was met with an overwhelmingly enthusiastic, “Oh, the Baby-G!” every single time. Most asked which color I had, throwing out five or six. I chose a new color every time. Despite the brand’s boldfaced dedication to durability and toughness, I witnessed the young and the old roll up their sleeves and unbuckle decades of G-SHOCK models from their wrists, cradling each one like a tiny puppy or a precious gem.
In front of me – literally – was a jaw-dropping display of the history of time, a clear demonstration of G-SHOCK founder Kikuo Ibe’s wide accomplishments. A wall of what should have been but clearly wasn’t every G-SHOCK ever made was encased in plastic, lit by individual fluorescent model lights. My favorite was the Transformer that, I was generously informed by an official G-SHOCK representative, does in fact turn into a small car if you so desire.
At this point, I began to think that watches might be really cool: one small step for G-SHOCK one giant step for me. And the fanfare didn’t stop there. A panel of Casio administrators, visionaries, and supportive public figures, including a very grateful Ibe, then assembled to discuss G-SHOCK’s overarching creative vision and ever-expanding enterprise. Louie Vito, Olympian snowboarder and MC ( not Monster Children) for the night, was perceptibly thrilled about the past, present, and future of G-SHOCK, and honestly, I was getting excited. Toughness is cool. Durability is cool.
Particularly interesting (and equally terrifying) to me was talk of the G-Shock virtual reality universe launching in 2024; an opportunity to step into the ever-elusive Metaverse and outfit yourself in whatever G-SHOCK watch you so desire, and in whatever setting you conjure into “reality.” Living on your own time. Cool. Definitely cool.
I somehow ended up backstage on a red carpet photographing invitees and brand representatives (I took note that nobody was using the word “celebrity” but instead, “talent”) sporting their individual watches, flashing tailored smiles for a dozen whistling photographers wearing all black. I was wearing white. And while I felt vicariously proud of G-SHOCK’s affect and influence as a brand, I absolutely was not supposed to be in that room, and this brief stint as a yappy paparazzi had me seriously considering resigning from my photography career if this is where I was headed. But in the spirit of being tough and unyielding, like a G-SHOC, I forged ahead.
And then, the big finish: the Prince of Reggaeton. J Balvin thrusted his way through a thirty-minute set reminiscent of the night in the club where you lost both your phone and wallet but had a great kiss with the guy whose breath smelled like a Miami Mint Elf Bar. The performance inspired me to take a salsa class, to buy baggier pants and bigger sunglasses. And Balvin told us we could achieve anything we set our minds to, reiterating the greater theme of the evening. So I’m off tomorrow, along with the other 2,500 G-SHOCK-Balvin enthusiasts, to follow my dreams.
After bodying my way through sweaty limbs, pizza scraps, and fractured plastic cups, some guy outside the venue in a very well-fitting suit offered me hundreds of dollars for the G-SHOCK in my media swag bag. I said no: ironic.
Call me sentimental. Call me a fool. Call me an apostle of apparent expertise. There’s just something about G-SHOCK.
