There is a word for the killing of a god, and this April in Geneva, Rolex committed it.
A while back I wrote about the two souls of Rolex. The 3-6-9 tool watch — the instrument, for the ones still climbing. And the fluted bezel — the institution, for the ones who have arrived. And the argument was that Rolex has spent decades migrating from the first to the second: from the company that made instruments to the company that manufactures status. The fluted bezel has been quietly winning that war for years.
The Pepsi was the last serious holdout.
And the new god — the one of the shiny bezel — did not let it die of old age. Gods do not retire. They are retired — and always at the moment of the successor’s choosing, because a god that dies on schedule is proven powerless, and a god merely fading might one day return. So the execution came at the height of the mania, on stage, in front of everyone.
Rolex of the 21st century is a different company. The new gods have arrived and the path to ascendancy is a bloody one. The Sub is a shiny desk diver. The Explorer is a museum relic. The Pepsi had to go too.