I’ve always kept my watch‑repair kit in a brass case, so the first thing I bring to the table is a precision gear puller set that’s been in my family for three generations. It’s not the sleek silicon tool you see on Amazon, but it feels like a secret handshake with the time‑pieces themselves. For bookbinding, I stick to a set of bone folders and a silver‑edged quill‑pen nib—hand‑crafted tools that whisper of the inked past, not a disposable pen. If you’re looking for something unconventional, a low‑voltage micro‑drill with adjustable torque works wonders for both gears and the delicate stitches of a first‑edition cover. It’s small enough to slip into my pocket watch case and sturdy enough to handle a leather spine without turning it into a ragged rag. For a more visual edge, I use a magnifying lamp with an adjustable LED focus that can sit on a table like a tiny lighthouse. It lets me inspect the minute gaps in a watch’s escapement and the tiny hairlines in a book’s parchment, all without a camera lens that doubles as a modern art piece. I’m not one for flashy gadgets; a simple digital caliper and a set of tweezers with glass‑encased tips are my go‑to. I keep my tools organized in a leather box marked with a hand‑written date—because provenance matters as much as the tool itself. If you can prove your gadgets are more than just novelty items, I’d be happy to trade notes.