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Disclaimer: this video/review was not sponsored by MB&F, M.A.D., Yinka Ilori or any other entity.

Video

Review

MB&F is one of the defining independent watch brands of this generation: a brand that treats horology like kinetic art, and one that’s essentially impossible to ignore if you care about modern high-end watchmaking. It’s also very much a “serious money” universe: pricing for their Horological or Legacy Machines typically starts in the ~$40,000 range and goes up fast. A big part of that magnetism is Maximilian Büsser himself: a highly prolific, hyper-visible figure in watchmaking, and especially in the indie scene, with the kind of cult following usually reserved for artists and auteurs. He’s not just the guy behind the concepts… his enthusiasm is genuinely infectious, and it’s helped MB&F grow into a creative ecosystem of collaborators rather than a conventional watch brand.

M.A.D. Editions is the more accessible pressure valve for all that energy… a parallel outlet where MB&F (and its designers) can express themselves at a lower price point while keeping Büsser’s eccentric design ideology intact. It’s meant to give mere mortals a real taste of what makes MB&F special, without pretending you’re getting a Horological Machine in terms of finishing or complexity.

Enter Yinka Ilori: a British-Nigerian multidisciplinary artist and designer known for bold color, patterns, optimism, and work that scales from objects and interiors to large public installations. He was made a Member of the British Empire (MBE) for services to Design in 2021, and his work seems to always have a very positive and cheerful tone that is easy to identify, making this collaboration feel completely authentic, because that is exactly how I would describe my interactions with Max Büsser.

The M.A.D.1S x Yinka Ilori “Grow Your Dreams” collaboration is exactly the kind of joyful, coherent weirdness you’d hope for, released in three variants: Sun, Nature, and Water (the one I’m reviewing), with just 400 of each. Retail is CHF 3,250 (roughly $4,150 USD), and once you factor in the extra 15% tariff, it effectively lands around $4,800 USD.

Let’s check it out!

Case

The M.A.D.1S case is the kind of object that immediately reminds you this is still an MB&F creature, even if it’s wearing a “more accessible” price tag. I measured 41.75mm in diameter, 49.75mm lug-to-lug, and 14.80mm thick, with a 24mm curved lug width and a 7.6mm push-pull crown sitting at 12 o’clock. And unlike most watches where you mostly interact with the dial and and maybe bezel, the M.A.D.1S demands more of your attention – the top surface and the sides are integral to the experience, to the point where I’d argue the case is the single most important design element here.

It is made of stainless steel, capped by a slightly curved sapphire crystal that, thankfully, gets genuinely effective anti-reflective treatment (so you’re not fighting glare while trying to enjoy the spectacle underneath). MB&F’s own specs describe the watch as using both sapphire and mineral glass with AR coating, and I believe that the mineral glass lives on the flanks / barrel, though you’ll also see some references describing mineral glass on the back so I’m not entirely certain.

Visually, this “Water” variant is my favorite combination of colors: you’ve got green HyCeram inserts on the top and side that punch up the already sculptural silhouette, that contrast beautifully with the blue rotor and blue hour track inside.

The lugs are especially cool: they are an extension of the case-back architecture (if you can even call it that), curving upward into carved forms that mix brushed and polished finishing in a way that reads more “industrial sculpture” than “traditional lug”. And the 12 o’clock crown carries the “Grow Your Dreams” motif with what looks like yellow enamel fill, and it’s easy to grip and operate even while the watch is on the wrist. The watch is rated to 30m of water resistance, which sounds underwhelming on paper, but for something this design-forward, it’s also not unusual.

Dial

I’m going to be slightly heretical here and call the side of the watch, specifically that lower flank around 6 o’clock, with its lume-filled triangular reference marker, the “dial”. Functionally, that’s where the time lives, even if it’s been pushed to the periphery and turned into part of the sculpture.

The M.A.D.1S also makes its priorities very clear in what it doesn’t show. Earlier M.A.D.1 versions offered more explicit hours-and-minutes, but the 1S ditches the independent minute display for a slimmer, cleaner construction, and I’m completely fine with that; this isn’t designed for precise timekeeping so much as it’s designed to be worn as a piece of horological art. If that trade-off bothers you, I’m fairly certain this watch just isn’t for you.

On the Water variant, the hour ring is a brushed blue band with large white numerals, white dots for 15-minute increments, and a wonderfully un-serious squiggly “S” marking the 30-minute position. You won’t be nailing minute-perfect accuracy, but you can still get close… maybe within half of a 15-minute increment if your eyes are reasonably functional. Side-read time itself isn’t a new trick either: Urwerk has done it, and MB&F have played with the concept for years on pieces like the HM5 and HM8. And you have plenty of smaller brands like Amida, Xeric, etc. who have done this too. Overall, legibility isn’t sports-watch crisp, but it’s good enough… and more importantly, it delivers a genuinely fun experience every time you tilt your wrist and “find” the time.

Movement

When MB&F first announced M.A.D.Editions, especially that first run powered by a Miyota 8-series base, I was extremely dissatisfied with the choice. I’ve owned and reviewed enough Miyota 8-series watches to know that I don’t like them, and the Miyota 821A in the earlier pieces is pretty much entry-level in every sense, the sort of movement you typically find in $100-$300 watches. The irony is that MB&F’s choice still made conceptual sense: the uni-directional winding was essential to the high-speed rotor “party trick” that’s basically baked into the M.A.D.1 experience, but the Miyota 9 Series would’ve been a more appropriate option.

So when they announced the switch to the La Joux-Perret G101, I was genuinely thrilled… enough to finally want to buy one myself. The G101 is a movement I don’t just tolerate; I actually think it’s solid, reliable, and good-looking, and I hope it shows up in more watches over time. It has roots in the Miyota 9-series architecture (a far better foundation than the 8-series), and the G101 feels like that concept given the Swiss Made treatment, with upgrades in finishing and specs… including a 68-hour power reserve.

Because it’s uni-directional, spinning it the opposite way can produce that friction-less free-spin that turns the watch into the fidget spinner you’ve always wanted. There’s a guilloché-style teal base, a nameplate for the two collaborators, a gold-colored movement plate that seats everything in the case, and a movement presentation that’s clean and nicely finished. Above all of that sits the star, a three-blade rotor with a beautiful blue finish and lume-filled “Grow Your Dreams” sections, so your fidget spinner also performs in the dark.

The clever bit you don’t see is underneath: a module built on the La Joux-Perret G101 that allows the movement to drive the horizontally aligned hour disc visible on the side of the case. Overall, I’ve got no complaints with the movement choice here: it’s a real upgrade, and the execution is excellent.

Lume

Lume on this watch is both a little ridiculous and genuinely satisfying: very much on-brand. The headline is the rotor: each of its three blades has generously lumed sections, and in the dark it becomes a glowing fidget spinner that’s hard not to distract yourself with. There’s practical lume here too. The triangular reference marker on the case is filled generously, and the hour markings on the side-read barrel light up as well, so you can still find the time without much fuss.

Performance is reasonably potent: it charges easily, glows bright, and lasts through the night. It’s not blazingly bright like a hardcore tool watch, but it’s consistent and bright enough for solid legibility. And yes, with those green HyCeram inserts, it would’ve been cool if they were lumed too: though if it were up to me I’d lume every element of every watch, so maybe don’t take that too seriously.

On The Wrist

On paper, it looks like it should wear like a brick, but in practice it’s much friendlier than the numbers suggest. The 41.75mm overall diameter sits comfortably on my 6.75″ wrist, and while the nearly 50mm lug-to-lug measurement sounds a bit overwhelming at first, that figure is taken across the very tips of the lugs, and those lugs taper out quite a bit. Visually and on-wrist, it feels closer to 47-48mm, which is a meaningful difference in how the watch actually presents.

Thickness is similar: the quoted 14.80mm is technically true, but also a little misleading. The crystal has a noticeable curvature, and the skeletonized case-back adds height even though the “core” of the watch is much slimmer, so it ends up wearing more like a 13mm watch rather than something genuinely chunky. The shape also helps: the case feels sculpted and ergonomic, not like a big flat puck, and the upward-curving lugs do a lot of work to keep it planted and stable.

Strap-wise, the watch comes with two CTS-style rubber straps; one in a multi-color pairing and another in all white. I didn’t actually wear it on either of them and ran it on this leather strap instead. Either way, the bigger takeaway is that it isn’t nearly as intimidating as its proportions might imply, and I’d say most wrists 6.5″ and up will find it comfortable without it looking cartoonishly large.

Wrapping Up

At roughly $4,800 USD all-in, the M.A.D.1S sits in a funny place: it’s a much smaller number than the $40,000+ it typically takes to enter the MB&F universe, but it’s still a lot of money for a watch: especially one whose entire vibe is whimsical, playful, and intentionally unserious. And that price is genuinely competitive territory: $4,800 buys a lot of phenomenal watches new, and the pre-owned market only makes the alternatives more tempting, which makes this a tough segment to justify on specs alone.

But I don’t think the person seriously considering a M.A.D.1S is cross-shopping a Tudor or a pre-owned Speedmaster.. they’re either chasing something unusual, they’re enamored with MB&F, or they’ve simply been pulled into Max Büsser’s orbit and want to belong to the MB&F tribe (you can’t actually join the tribe unless you buy a real MB&F though, sorry). For the buyer who values creative design and originality, the kind of person who lives for the weirder corners of the hobby where out-of-the-box thinking is the point, this M.A.D.1S might actually be perfect.

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Disclaimer: this video/review was not sponsored by Phorcydes or any other entity.

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Lume Blocks: The Final Frontier

If you’re the kind of person who can’t help comparing lume shots, timing fade rates, or getting irrationally excited about a watch glowing well in a dim room, then you’ve probably noticed that some of the most impressive lume today is no longer just about better pigment. More and more, it is about shape, structure, and volume. And that shift has created a whole category of watches where the low-light or no-light experience can feel far more dramatic than a traditional lumed dial. The Phorcydes PH4A is an interesting example of that trend, because it delivers the kind of lume performance that usually gets associated with much more expensive watches, yet it sells for around $220.

A big reason I decided to make this video, and write this article, is because I received quite a few messages from fellow lume addicts and followers asking me to check this watch out. And I understood why. The PH4A had already started to develop a reputation for having absurdly potent lume for the money, which naturally raises the question: what exactly are they doing here?, and how close does it really get to the better known high-end implementations?

Volume, Definition & Structures

To answer that, it helps to zoom out a little. For a long time, the lume discussion was mostly about pigment. What type was used, how bright it charged, and how long it stayed readable. But watches using systems like HyCeram (MING 18.01, MING 20.11, MING 29.01, etc.), Lumicast (Wicked Watch Co. Pearl Diver, Baltic Hermetique, Aquascaphe Mk2, etc.), and Globolight (H. Moser & Cie. Pioneer Diver, Christopher Ward Lumiere, Christopher Ward Bel Canto Lumiere, Christopher Ward C63 Extreme GMT, etc.), and similar approaches have shifted that conversation toward something more interesting. At a certain point, the real difference is no longer just the luminous compound itself, but how that compound is shaped, how much of it is present, and how effectively it is used.

That is really the appeal of 3D luminous elements. A conventional lumed marker usually gives you one illuminated surface. A proper lume block gives you volume. The marker itself becomes a luminous object rather than just a metal shape with lume applied to the top. And when that is done well, it looks fantastic. It gives the dial more presence in low light, it creates a more sculptural glow, and it tends to feel more immersive because the entire form is participating rather than just a thin coating.

That is also why so many higher-end brands have started using these systems. Christopher Ward’s Lumiere (Trident, Bel Canto) models are a great example because they show how good 3D lume can look when both the material and the finishing are taken seriously. The blocks are not just thick, they are shaped and faceted in a way that makes them visually interesting in daylight too. Similar can be seen on the H. Moser & Cie Pioneer, which also uses Xenoprint’s Globolight XP.

MING has approached the same broader idea from a different angle with HyCeram, using fused luminous material in sapphire components to create a floating, layered effect that plays with light and shadow.

Even more high end independent watchmakers appear to be embracing these materials, as seen on the Simon Brette Chronomètre Artisans Steel, Lang & Heyne‘s Friedrich III, Georg & Anton, Artime ART01, HYT Hastroid, Sarpaneva Daredevil, Hautlence, etc. Different methods, same lesson: once lume becomes a real physical structure rather than a flat application, it can do much more.

Why are we talking about the Phorcydes PH4A?

And that is what makes the Phorcydes PH4A worth talking about. Not because it is a particularly original design, and certainly not because it feels like some major breakthrough in engineering, but because it seems to have found a very efficient way to deliver the one thing that most lume enthusiasts actually care about: a huge amount of visible luminous performance at a very low price. In raw output, it is impressive enough that I would not hesitate to mention it in the same conversation as watches using HyCeram, Lumicast, and Globolight.

That matters because it highlights something enthusiasts sometimes overlook. The most expensive luminous systems are not always the only route to excellent lume. A lot of practical performance comes down to luminous mass, exposed surface area, geometry, and how well the whole display is balanced. If a brand can make thick, heavily loaded luminous blocks efficiently, and pair them with hands and markers that make proper use of that material, the result can be extremely effective even if the process itself is less refined or less prestigious than the Swiss alternatives.

Phorcydes PH4A: A Mini Review?

As a watch, the PH4A is actually better than I expected for the money. It measures 39.5mm in diameter, 47.5mm from lug tip to lug tip, 13.3mm thick, with a 20mm lug width, a 6.05mm screw-down crown, and a head-only weight of 67 grams. On paper, those are fairly sensible dimensions for a compact diver-style watch, and in practice it wears pretty well.

The design itself is also very clearly borrowing from classic skin diver territory, and more specifically it comes across as a fairly obvious copy of watches like the Glashütte Original SeaQ. So this is not a watch I find especially interesting from a design standpoint. But in terms of pure build quality, it is still a surprisingly competent object for the price.

The case construction and finishing are particularly impressive at this level. The surfaces are clean, the overall build feels solid, and the bracelet is better than I expected too. The links are well detailed, fit together nicely, and the clasp even includes on-the-fly adjustment while feeling properly made rather than like a cheap convenience feature added for marketing. This is one of those watches that reminds you just how much Chinese manufacturers are now capable of doing at very low prices when the goal is execution rather than originality. And being able to experience that is certainly worth the purchase, if this kind of stuff interests you.

At the same time, this is still very far from a luxury-watch experience. The bracelet on mine showed stains right out of the box, and it had that unmistakable smell of a manufacturing facility, with oil and residue still hanging around. That is not a deal-breaker at $220, but it does immediately put the watch back into perspective. And while the lume blocks themselves are thoroughly impressive in terms of both output and overall visual effect, their quality control up close is rough. On my watch, most of the blocks show chips, cracks, or other imperfections, and they are nowhere near as cleanly finished as the multi-faceted blocks on something like the Christopher Ward Lumiere. So while the performance is absolutely there, the refinement is not.

But that is also why it is hard to be too critical. Because the PH4A is not really interesting to me as a luxury object, a piece of design, or some feat of refined watchmaking. I bought it for a much narrower reason. I wanted to see what is now possible from a manufacturing perspective, especially from a Chinese brand working at this price point, when the main priority is clearly lume. And in that context, it is hard not to come away impressed.

Lume: Live Long & Phosphor

And if there was a point to this review, I suppose it would be that 3D luminous elements are no longer some niche novelty reserved for expensive watches. They have become one of the most effective ways to make a watch both more visually exciting and more practically legible in low light. The higher-end executions often (not always) justify themselves through better finishing, better tolerances, stronger integration, and in some cases more sophisticated materials. But the Phorcydes PH4A shows that the core appeal of this genre, the part that makes lume enthusiasts care in the first place, can now be accessed for surprisingly little money. And if anything, watches like this should encourage you as an enthusiast to demand more from the high end luxury brands that are constantly trying to sell you less, for more.

And that, really, is why this watch matters. Not because it is the most refined example of 3D lume, and not because it is a watch I would hold up as some great design success, but because it proves how much of the effect can be achieved when a brand focuses on the fundamentals: a lot of luminous material, shaped properly, used intelligently, and sold cheaply. If you care about lume, that alone makes the PH4A worth paying attention to.

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The post Let’s Talk About Lume Blocks & Phorcydes PH-4A appeared first on RK Watch Service.

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Disclaimer: this video/review was not sponsored by MING or any other entity.

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A Crowded Space Filled With Unoriginal Ideas

Over the last seven-ish years, integrated-bracelet watches have exploded in popularity, largely driven by the hype around two pieces: the Patek Philippe Nautilus and the Audemars Piguet Royal Oak. As a community, we gaslit ourselves into believing that these were the epitome of watch design. Demand went through the roof, secondary prices became astronomical, and suddenly every brand and their uncle either rushed to launch an integrated-bracelet watch or revived one that had been rotting in the back catalog for decades.

Having handled both the Nautilus and the Royal Oak extensively, I’ll say I understand a lot of the appeal. At least in their best references, they feel genuinely well-considered, with bracelets that are legitimately excellent and a cohesive design story that ties the whole watch together.

But where we are today is a crowded, messy category with options across the entire price spectrum: from Tissot’s PRX line, to Christopher Ward’s Twelve, to the IWC Ingenieur (which does have historic precedence, but also joined the party much later than it should have), and then the more rarefied stuff like the Credor’s Locomotive, Czapek Antarctique, Moser Streamliner, Romain Gauthier C, Armin Strom One Week, and so on. Some of these watches embody the philosophy of building a fully integrated, memorable product with its own design language, but most are forgettable improvisations on a heavily recycled theme.

And in the rush to get a product to market, plenty of brands put out half-baked watches meant more to ride the hype wave than deliver something great. The bracelet details often gave it away: the majority of the watches I mentioned lacked micro-adjustments (Tissot PRX, Christopher Ward… initially), many lacked half links, a few tried to catch up by including extra accessories after the fact (Moser Streamliner, IWC), and some took a few years to even get the fit and feel of their bracelets right (Czapek).

But we’re on the other side of the hype wave now, and hopefully we can all see things more clearly. Hopefully we’ve learned to ask more from our hype watches and accept quality over status. We have, right? ….right?

Well, all of this is to say the integrated-bracelet world is largely fueled by the worst aspects of the hobby, with half-baked ideas hitting the market where the primary objective is generating shareholder value, then resale value and then maybe being a good watch. Which is why I’m glad MING didn’t rush to meet the hype cycle. As we’ll soon see, they took their time to do this properly and deliver a product that wouldn’t leave the buyer wanting more, at least where the fundamentals are concerned. The MING 56.00 Starfield was a small Special Projects Cave release, made in 20 pieces and priced at 19,500 CHF, or a staggering $25,000 at the time of writing, excluding tariffs.

Ming Thein & Rethinking Watch Design

So how does a brand whose entire claim to fame is being recognizable, unique, and creatively unhinged take on a genre that’s inherently constrained and, in many ways, creatively inhibiting? Over the last eight years, MING has shipped almost 80 references, and the remarkable part isn’t just the volume, it’s how often they managed to make each release feel like it had a point of view. Unique, forward–thinking, sometimes borderline insane, and only occasionally repetitive. And somehow, they’ve pulled that off while keeping the fundamental DNA consistent enough that you can usually spot a MING from across the room.

That consistency is impressive because MING has never been a one-trick brand, even though that’s what the ignorant tend to accuse them of. If you thought MING was “the lume brand”, the 27.01 and Project 21 were pretty effective reminders that it’s not that simple. If you thought a MING needed hands of a certain style to look correct, the LW.01 exists as a counterpoint. The details change, sometimes dramatically, but the watches still read unmistakably MING.

A lot of that comes down to a handful of design pillars that show up again and again: those flared lugs and compact lug-to-lug distances, the obsession with transparency and reflectivity, the use of exotic optical materials to create depth, and the recurring idea of a circular marker ring that functions as both an abstract, futuristic design element and a genuinely legible, timekeeping-critical structure.

And that’s exactly where the integrated-bracelet genre becomes a problem. Some of MING’s strongest signatures, especially the lug architecture and the way their cases “frame” the dial, don’t translate cleanly to a lug-less, bracelet-integrated form. The genre forces different proportions, different transitions, and a different set of priorities. Which means if MING was going to do this at all, they’d have to do something they don’t often have to do: compromise on familiar shapes without compromising on identity.

What Is An Integrated MING?

In a way, this isn’t the first “integrated” bracelet MING watch since they’ve flirted with fitted options before. But for most of the brand’s life, the dominant idea has been the Universal Bracelet: one bracelet designed to work across a huge swath of the lineup, rather than being engineered case-by-case. And more recently, MING took the concept of “we can do bracelets too” and dialed it to eleven with the Polymesh, a completely different kind of wearable object, realized via additive manufacturing in laser sintered Grade 5 titanium.

Having owned and reviewed at least three dozen MING watches over the last six years, I’ll say the Universal Bracelet has been a genuinely good solution on some models, and less so on others. But as MING’s prices climbed and certain case designs started to repeat, I won’t pretend I didn’t occasionally wish for something more purpose-built. The Universal Bracelets, now priced roughly between 650 CHF and 950 CHF, also came with some limitations, like no on-the-fly adjustability, and not much variety in finishing styles.

So the Starfield feels like MING embracing the idea of a fully integrated watch design again: if the bracelet is the watch, then it can’t be a universal accessory: it has to be part of the design spec from the first sketch. And that’s where the Starfield gets interesting, because MING didn’t translate their usual lug architecture into this format. The brand’s signature flared lugs are basically incompatible with the integrated-bracelet silhouette. Instead, the Starfield is built as a single flowing object: a 40mm, 9.7mm-thick case in mirror polished 316L steel, with a 6.75mm push-pull crown, boxed sapphire on top and 100 meters of water resistance, and weighs in at 120g sized for my 6.75″ wrist.

That all-polished decision is an interesting one though – it’s not the practical, brushed-tool-watch approach, it’s the “light is a design material”, and we’re going to show it off. And rather than relying on lugs for identity, MING threads in one of their more recent signatures: a subtle HyCeram luminous insert embedded into the case flanks, which is a structural design element that visually tries to wrangle the curved lug silhouette you’re expecting into this singular integrated unit.

Then there’s the bracelet, and this is where MING clearly decided they weren’t going to ship a “version one” product and patch it later. The Starfield’s integrated bracelet comes with a patent-pending tool-less sizing system: each removable link has a slider on the underside that lets you detach it without tools. And instead of asking you to play the usual integrated-bracelet game of half links, MING built a toolless micro-adjust into their push-button clasp, offering 5mm total adjustment in 1.25mm increments, with 2.5mm available on either side. And if you’ve been following my reviews for a while, you’ll know how important this is to me. I will say that the extension breaks up the design quite a bit with a narrow protrusion that does wobble a bit, but I will gladly accept this for the functionality provided.

This is the point where the Starfield feels like MING treating the genre as a design problem worth solving properly. Because if integrated-bracelet watches live and die on comfort, fit, and how “complete” they feel as a single object, no compromises on functionality can be tolerated. And a key feature to the ergonomics are the links. They have a multi-axis construction, less like a flat chain and more like a series of curved shells designed to drape. According to Ming Thein, the trick to making a comfortable integrated design work is progressive curvature across multiple axes, curved links, and a higher pivot point. That geometry lets the bracelet conform smoothly to a wide range of wrist sizes without the usual integrated-bracelet problems: gaps at the case, awkward “hinge points”, or pinch points as it wraps around the wrist. The watch on bracelet has a maximum span of around 53.5mm, so you’ll need wrists at least 53.5mm wide to accommodate it comfortably. The bracelet tapers from about 24.75mm at the head to just under 20mm at the clasp.

Don’t forget the dial!

As with most MING watches, the crystal is part of the display system. The Starfield uses a beautiful boxed sapphire crystal with concentric ring segments engraved on the underside and filled with the brand’s Polar White lume. The engraving is intentionally asymmetric: the number of ring segments increases toward 6 o’clock, balanced by the logo at 12. These engraved sections floating over the dial create the familiar MING “floating” appearance which is always incredible to experience.

The dial itself is familiar MING territory: a sapphire Mosaic pattern laser-etched into different depths of a sapphire substrate using a femtolaser. We’ve seen this execution in pieces like the 20.11 Mosaic and 20.01 S2, and the Starfield’s pattern most closely resembles the more triangular geometry of the 20.01 S2. The hands are metallic blue and use blue-emission Super-LumiNova. The hour hand has a larger lume plot, while the minute hand uses a much slimmer, border-style lume application.

Overall, the dial is comparatively simple by MING standards. None of the materials or design moves are new, but the restraint works in the context of an integrated-bracelet watch, where the case and bracelet are meant to carry more of the visual weight.

Lume performance is mixed. The Polar White elements fade sooner than the hands. The HyCeram case inserts are also relatively weak and somewhat patchy, though that may be specific to the prototype. The hands retain legibility longer, but the narrow minute-hand lume means the hour hand is the only element that remains clearly readable deep into the night.

Compared with the Patek Philippe Nautilus 7118 and the Christopher Ward C12 Loco, the Starfield’s lume is adequate but unremarkable. If there’s one area where it objectively under-performs, it’s lume, and that has been common with recent–generation MINGs.

The Star(field) of the Show

Let’s move to my favorite aspect of this watch, and the reason it’s named the way it is: the case-back. Instead of a conventional exhibition back, the Starfield uses a contrasting black (DLC coated?) case-back with a sapphire window that’s been “blacked out” by a dark layer underneath the crystal and interrupted by narrow streak-like cutouts.

Inside is MING’s Vaucher for MING Cal. 3002.M1, a custom-branded execution of Vaucher’s VMF3002 platform. The VMF is a niche movement, but is used by brands like Parmigiani Fleurier, Hermes, Speake Marin, etc. It is somewhat of a high-end work-horse movement with 50 hours of power reserve, and a 4Hz rate. It is a double-barrel automatic movement with a free sprung balance, and looks fairly well finished if you could see it at all.

But none of that is what you notice first, because MING developed a proprietary rotor specifically to create the Starfield animation. When the rotor spins (wrist motion or crown winding), a luminous white pattern behind those streak cutouts streaks and blurs into a “warp speed” effect: and it’s especially pronounced in the dark thanks to Super-LumiNova X1 on the animated element. In my opinion, this is one of the most memorable visual experiences MING has ever delivered, and I like that it doesn’t depend on darkness to impress: the streaking effect is impressive in daylight too, even if the lume obviously turns it up a notch at night.

Who Is It For?

At this point, MING’s trajectory is hard to ignore. Between steadily increasing prices, US tariffs, and the USD weakening against the CHF, MING is quickly becoming a brand that’s no longer accessible to everyone who might want one. That said, the 19,500 CHF ask for the 56.00 Starfield feels defensible if you place it in its competitive set against watches like the Moser Streamliner (21,900 CHF), Czapek Antarctique (22,400 CHF), Arnold & Son Longitude ($29,300), Gerald Charles Masterlink ($23,900), and so on.

In this part of the market, you’re not just paying for “an integrated bracelet watch”. Aside from the hype tax you’re paying to play in this genre, you should be paying for design that feels intentional, mechanical solutions that make the watch wear correctly, and a level of execution that doesn’t leave you mentally drafting a list of things the brand should fix in version two. But the Starfield does a great job at meeting those expectations. Before I handled it, I wasn’t fully convinced it would feel meaningfully different from the growing pile of modern integrated-bracelet releases. In hand, I quickly changed my mind. This is a watch that’s designed to feel good on the wrist first, and look distinctive. The aesthetic might not be as radically original as MING at its most experimental, but it’s still original enough within this genre to stand comfortably among the more creative entrants.

If you’re the kind of collector who loves the integrated-bracelet category but is tired of familiar silhouettes, the Starfield makes a strong case. It’s unusual without being random, and it feels authentic in the way it applies MING’s design language to this format. And the case-back animation alone is the kind of experience that makes the watch feel like it has an identity already.

Of course, the practical problem is that this one is already sold out. With only 20 pieces made, people who now want a Starfield won’t be able to buy one. But if the 56.00 was the proof of concept, there will almost certainly be variations down the road.

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