"Designed to be right" is easy to say. Most things are, in one way or another. At some point it needed a definition — something with edges, something that actually cuts.
The limit of one hundred came from a simple question: at what number does every decision still matter? Where is the point before volume starts absorbing mistakes, averaging out quality, making it easy to move on without resolving things properly?
Scale gives things somewhere to hide. A hundred watches don't. Every one has to hold up on its own — there's no average to fall back on.
Materials. Proportions. Legibility. Assembly. At one hundred, all of it is visible. None of it can be waved through on the assumption that most will be fine.
That constraint changes how you work. Fewer options feel like discipline rather than limitation. Each material choice, each proportion, each finish gets considered properly — not because there's time to, but because there's no excuse not to.
The standard isn't how many can be made. It's how few can be made without cutting anything that matters. One hundred is that number — for now, and for the right reasons.
