37 DEGREES
That is the temperature of what pulses at Maurice de Mauriac. Everywhere. Always. In every decision, in every watch, in every conversation. Here, family is not a concept. It is something you can feel.
Daniel Dreifuss built this 37-degree system. Driven by two obsessions: time and family. He came from a world in which time is measured, traded, lost—and he wanted to set something against that. Watches that don’t merely display the moment, but hold it. Honour it. And perhaps let it reach a little beyond itself.
That isn’t possible without substance. Not without craft. Not without stories. And most certainly not without warmth.
Today this 37-degree heart beats at Bellevue, at Rämistrasse 5. Deeper in the city centre and at the same time more open than ever. The atelier is more than a place where watches are made. It is a distillation. A university at the table. A meeting point. A place that draws people in.
Here, nothing is explained that can also simply be felt.
Every watch passes through hands, through thoughts, through conversations. And always through those of the family itself. Handed over personally. Meant personally. That is why every watch carries something within it that goes beyond material: closeness.
An offering. Not a conclusion.
With Daniel’s death, something came to an end. And at the same time, something began. Massimo, Leonard and Masha don’t simply carry it on. They translate. They expand. They move boundaries without losing the core. What their father began is not preserved. It is lived. With the same intensity. Perhaps even with more.
And somewhere in between: Totoro. A Lagotto Romagnolo, an Italian truffle dog. Not the centre of attention. But not mere accessory either. A quiet companion with a tireless nose. Always searching for what doesn’t reveal itself right away. Perhaps precisely that which defines this place.
The energy has remained. And it has found direction.
Perhaps that is exactly why, for many, this place is more than an atelier. Why it gets discovered, recommended, found again.
Because here you experience both at once: roots and movement.
And because in everything there lies this one constant: 37 degrees.
When the atelier is listed on TripAdvisor as the shopping experience of Zurich, it is because you can experience the roots of the brand just as intensely as the energy to keep surprising the watch market with family touches all its own—with this fascinating temperature of 37 degrees in everything.
Rämistrasse 5
8001 Zurich
We Make Time
People believe that time is something that passes. We talk about losing it, saving it, killing it, or racing against it. Our language reveals a curious assumption: time seems to exist outside of us, flowing independently, carrying us along whether we want it to or not.
But perhaps that is the greatest illusion of all. Perhaps time doesn’t pass. Perhaps we do. It is not time moving through us—it is we who move through time.
If that is true, then the most important question is no longer What time is it? but How am I living this hour? Two minutes can feel like an eternity. An afternoon with someone you love can pass in the blink of an eye, yet remain with you forever. A single childhood summer can seem, decades later, longer than entire years of adult life.
Time is less a physical measurement than a quality of attention. Wherever we are fully present, life deepens. Wherever our attention is scattered, life begins to dissolve.
Modern life produces more and more seconds, but less and less time. We accelerate processes, shorten distances, optimize every routine. Everything becomes faster, yet we constantly complain that we never have enough time. Perhaps because speed and time are not the same thing. Traveling faster does not mean living more. Filling our calendars does not create more presence.
Good time is not created through efficiency. It is created through attitude. An attitude that says: This minute matters. This conversation matters. This view out the window matters. This thought matters. It is the art of giving weight to the present moment.
Perhaps that also explains the enduring fascination of mechanical watches. In a world of glowing displays showing atomically precise digits, an automatic movement feels almost anachronistic. It is slower, more intricate, less rational—and for exactly that reason, more meaningful. An automatic watch does more than measure time.
It lives through movement. It is wound by the person who wears it—through every step, every gesture, every journey, every conversation. Its movement is powered by life itself. It is not a machine that manages time, but an object that reminds us of the relationship between living and time.
With every movement, the owner winds the watch. And the watch gives something back. Not energy in the technical sense, but memory. Perspective. Awareness.
A fine watch doesn’t simply tell you the time. It reminds you that this moment can never be repeated. That is why certain timepieces possess a presence far beyond their function. They carry an idea. A character. A philosophy of life.
The automatic watches of Maurice de Mauriac belong to that rare category. You don’t wear them to control time. You wear them because they embody a relationship with time. Their mechanics, their clarity, and their individuality speak of a world in which time is not an enemy to defeat, but a space in which life becomes more intense.
Behind these watches stands a family: the Dreifuss family—Massimo, Leonard, and Masha. People who carry responsibility not in the abstract, but personally. With dedication, closeness, and the understanding that every watch will eventually become part of someone else’s life. Perhaps that is exactly what people feel. These watches are not simply made. They are cared for. They carry a way of thinking from one person to another.
They do not merely measure hours. They create good time. Not because they can change the passing of seconds, but because they can change the person who looks at them. Every glance at the dial becomes a quiet reminder: You are here. Right now. Alive.
Perhaps that is the true purpose of a watch. Not to tell time, but to create presence. Because in the end, we will not remember how many hours we had. We will remember which ones truly became time.