An unfiltered conversation about intuition, discipline, and choosing alignment over pressure.

Courtesy of Richard Mille

Arnaud Jerald is one of the most singular figures in contemporary free diving. Born in Marseille, he grew up between land and sea, drawn early to silence, depth, and breath. By his early twenties, he had already rewritten the limits of human descent, becoming the youngest free diver to set multiple world records in constant weight with bifins. Known for his calm, almost philosophical approach to an extreme sport, Jerald dives without a mask, without excess equipment, and without theatrics — trusting instinct, preparation, and the body’s intelligence. His partnership with Richard Mille mirrors that same precision: technical, uncompromising, and rooted in long-term vision rather than performance pressure.

All images are courtesy of Richard Mille.

١. You mentioned earlier that you loved the story of how you and Richard Mille came together. Can you share it?

I think I was eighteen or nineteen years old. At that time, I wasn’t freediving yet — I was just dreaming about it. My cousin, who is a lawyer, invited me to a motorsport event. She was working with a racing driver for Castellet, for Le Mans and other endurance races. I remember seeing the drivers wearing a watch I had never seen before.

It immediately caught my eye. I asked my cousin, Sandrine, what it was. She said, “It’s Richard Mille.” I was really impressed — the shape, the presence, the tonneau case.

I asked her if they made a diving watch. She said she didn’t think so.

When I got back home, I searched the brand online and discovered the RM 032, which at the time was in titanium. I remember thinking, this is a dream watch. What’s funny is that I had never owned a watch before. When I turned eighteen, my parents offered to buy me one. They said, “You’re at the age now where you can choose a beautiful watch.” I looked, but I didn’t like any of them. They all looked the same to me. So I refused the gift and lived without wearing a watch at all.

٢. When did watches re-enter your life?

When I started freediving seriously and achieved some good results. After my second or third world record, several watch brands contacted me. At that point, I had almost forgotten about Richard Mille. I met around ten different brands, but something always felt off — the connection with the teams, the mindset, the expectations.

Some of them were very direct. If we sign with you, next year we want a world record. But freediving doesn’t work like that. It’s extreme. You can’t force depth.

I remember coming home after meetings in Paris or Switzerland and telling my parents it wasn’t working. They thought I was crazy. They said, “Do you realise how much work it takes to get these propositions?” But I wanted a real story. In freediving history, figures like Jacques Mayol built lifelong relationships with brands. That mattered to me.

At one point, I truly accepted the idea that I might go through my entire career without wearing a watch.

٣. So how did Richard Mille come back into the picture?

It happened very naturally. I was in Paris for a television show, and apparently Amanda Mille saw me on TV. She later told me she liked the way I spoke and wanted to understand my story. Around the same time, I was on a train back to Marseille and, by chance, found her email address.

I wrote to her very instinctively. I remember one line clearly: “You create extreme watches for extreme conditions. What about freediving?”

Twenty four hours later, we were on a call. A few months after that, we met at Château Réva. I was extremely stressed — it felt like my last chance. I arrived in a formal suit, trying to look perfect. Then two huge dogs jumped on me, and Amanda arrived dressed casually, coming straight from the vineyards. I realised immediately that I had overdone it.

We walked among the grapes, talked, and something clicked. There was no negotiation in the traditional sense.

We didn’t talk numbers first. We talked about values, about the future, about what kind of relationship we wanted to build. That was new for me, and it made complete sense.

٤. How do you actually use the watch in your practice?

For me, the watch is a tool. I don’t use it during the dive — I dive without a mask, and at those depths it’s too dark anyway. But before the dive, it’s essential. Timing is everything. If I’m one second late, I’m disqualified.

I use the chronograph for breathing exercises, to calm myself, to stay in the present moment. I can’t rely on my phone because everything is wet.

In freediving, you disconnect from time completely. Underwater, minutes disappear.

I dive with very little equipment: fins, nose clip, wetsuit, and the watch. Each item has to be trusted one hundred percent. If something feels off, it’s dangerous. That’s why this relationship matters.

٥. You’ve spoken a lot about family. How important is that to you?

Family is everything. I don’t have a coach, I don’t have a mental trainer. If something isn’t right in my life, it’s dangerous to dive. Before leaving for major competitions, I spend time with my family — my grandmother, my parents. Every dive I do, I call my mother afterward.

When you leave for places like the Bahamas for months, you know where you’re going, but the people you love can’t fully understand it — and you don’t want them to. That’s a weight you carry alone.

٦. What does success look like for you now?

Courtesy of Richard Mille

Stability. In freediving, people say a good diver is an old diver. I’ve always promised myself not to chase my limit recklessly. I want a long career, a clear mind, and the ability to say no when something doesn’t feel right.

There is no external pressure from my partners. The only pressure comes from myself. And that’s how it should be.

Arnaud Jerald’s story is not about speed or spectacle. It is about restraint, intuition, and choosing depth over noise. In a world obsessed with performance metrics and instant results, his approach feels almost radical: slow, deliberate, human.

For Jerald, time is not something to race against. It is something to respect, breathe with, and occasionally forget entirely.

Writer, editor, and cultural researcher, I work where archives, sound, fashion, and contemporary social worlds collide. My practice weaves sociology and storytelling to examine how cultural traces resurface, circulate, and press against present identities. I move between writing, curation, and treating archives as living, unruly matter.You can contact me on maram@khamsa5.com
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