Citrus is purchase energy
One citrus glow falls behind the object and on the one control that moves you forward. It never decorates; it only points.
Plinth is a storefront that behaves like a vitrine after hours: one piece under one light, measured on a caliper rail, with the buy docked where your hand expects it.
No rainbow promotions, no wall of cards. The cabinet does three jobs and does them precisely.
One citrus glow falls behind the object and on the one control that moves you forward. It never decorates; it only points.
Figures hang from a measured rail, not a marketing line. Diameter, thickness, depth — read like an instrument, not a banner.
Acquisition sits where your hand expects it at the counter — never hunted for, never floating away as you scroll.
Grade-5 titanium, a teal lacquer dial, and a movement you wind by living. The first object we lit, and still the one that draws the eye in the case.
Citrus moves the sale; deep teal is the part you keep — authenticity, return, and service for the life of the object.
A serial-matched archival certificate ships in the box, with a 30-second verify link.
Thirty days, insured both ways. We relight the shelf for the next owner.
An overhaul every five years, at cost, for as long as you keep it on the wrist.
The shelf stays lit until the last one ships. After that, the Luma 38 goes dark in the archive.