A ring of thirty-one numerals advanced once every twenty-four hours, read through an aperture or by a pointer.
The date is the most frequently consulted piece of calendar information in ordinary life, and until the middle of the twentieth century anyone who wanted it consulted a diary, a newspaper or a colleague. It is nearly free to a watch, which already counts days. What delayed it was space: the date ring and its indexing works occupy the outer margin of the movement, which in a small wristwatch calibre was already crowded.
The drive is a chain of reductions. The hour wheel turns once in twelve hours and drives an intermediate wheel geared two to one, so that wheel turns once in twenty-four. It carries a finger which, at each revolution, engages one tooth of the date ring; a sprung jumper bearing on the teeth holds each numeral square in the aperture. In the commonest arrangement the finger tensions the jumper until it passes the crest of a tooth and snaps the ring forward. An instantaneous calendar instead stores energy through the evening in a separate cam and releases it in a fraction of a second at midnight, at the cost of a sudden demand on the mainspring.
The mechanism puts an obligation on the wearer: five corrections a year, and three days after a common February. The chain of reductions also creates the danger zone. For roughly the hours between nine in the evening and three in the morning the finger is engaged with the date ring, and forcing a quickset then can bend the finger or break a tooth.