I’d like to talk about airports. Not a sentence I ever thought I’d write, if I’m honest – normally the airport itself is a necessary evil to be negotiated as swiftly as possible en route to somewhere more relaxing. But the minute I clapped eyes on the Junghans Meister Worldtimer, my mind went straight to airports – or to be more precise, to one airport in particular.

Worldtime and GMT watches tend to trade on their connotations with international travel and the jet-set age – ushered in by Pan Am and the Rolex GMT-Master in 1955. Some, like a Patek Philippe 5231J with its hand-enamelled painting of the world at its centre, are reminiscent of an older age of travel altogether; a Mr Jules Verne-worthy idea of globetrotting by airship or sailboat. But most, when I look at them, remind me of flying here and there, and the airports that make it possible. A Vacheron Constantin Overseas Dual Time, for example, has something of the crisp, clean modernity of Oslo’s Gardermoen airport; the simple colourful charm of a Bamford London GMT (especially if you have it on a rubber or Nato strap) is like the one-shed terminal of a Caribbean island – as we all know, there’s nothing better than an airport where the same member of staff runs arrivals and departures by themselves. I won’t insult any watch by comparing it to Gatwick or Luton…

This Junghans watch though: it put me in mind of one of the most iconic terminal buildings of all time: the TWA Flight Center at New York’s JFK airport, designed by Finnish architect Mr Eero Saarinen and latterly transformed into the TWA Hotel. Something about the monochrome colour palette of the dial – in particular, the 24-hour disc and list of cities, which are so often picked out in blue, or red – and the swooping curve of the sapphire crystal, running right from one edge of the case to the other, reminded me of the great curving arcs of Mr Saarinen’s concrete masterpiece. The slim hour markers and sparse approach to timekeeping – no minute markers, no second hand – leaves a white expanse between each marker; another nod to the wide open spaces of the terminal.

It’s no surprise that Junghans’ design language should put me in mind of mid-century modernist architecture; the brand has built its entire image around this period, most famously through its relationship with Mr Max Bill, but it runs through everything it does. It may be a modern watch, with a sapphire crystal and automatic movement, but I can just imagine catching a flash of this seven-link polished bracelet under a businessman’s jacket as he walked into JFK in 1962, ready to travel from the most futuristic airport of the age.