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

MING Polymesh 20mm Curved (Regular): https://www.ming.watch/featured-product/ming-polymesh

Video

3D Printing & Horology

The watch industry is often described as traditional, but what that really means is that this industry is old, slow and resistant to change. We celebrate decade old construction methods, while modern manufacturing techniques remain confined to prototypes and concept pieces. 3D printing has been one of those technologies. While Apple produced millions of 3D-printed titanium watch cases without any romanticism, it has appeared sparingly in watchmaking through titanium cases from brands like Panerai, Apiar and Holthinrichs, and it is rarely used in a way that fundamentally changes how a watch component behaves.

In our little world of watchmaking, Holthinrichs may be one of the few brands that has used 3D-printed titanium case making in a way that feels genuinely innovative, reasonably priced and aesthetically impressive. Their cases embrace the raw, architectural qualities of additive manufacturing instead of hiding them, and while I don’t personally love their printed bracelet design, it is undeniably innovative because it continues the same design story told by their cases. The MING Polymesh is different again, because it isn’t trying to 3D print a bracelet – it is trying to create a completely new experience for a watch accessory.

The broader science behind this is fascinating. Engineers have been exploring 3D-printed chainmail and fabric-like structures for applications far beyond watches. NASA JPL developed a metallic “space fabric” using 3D-printing techniques, with different functionality on each side of the material, while Caltech and JPL researchers later developed a chainmail-inspired material that can transform from a foldable, fluid-like state into a rigid shape under pressure. These are sometimes called architected or programmable materials, because their behavior comes as much from geometry as from the base material itself.

The Polymesh applies that idea to something familiar: the watch strap. The curved-end version is made from laser-sintered grade 5 titanium, uses curved-end quick-release 20mm spring bars, and is a one-piece construction made of 1,693 sub-components, including the integrated tuck buckle system. MING recommends the short size for wrists under 6 inches or 152mm, and the regular size for wrists from 6 to 7.8 inches, or 152 to 200mm. It weighs 20g. The Straight version expands the concept beyond MING watches, using quick-release straight-end 20mm spring bars and 1,742 interconnected elements. Both versions are priced at CHF 1,500 excluding taxes.

Challenges

Most bracelets are mechanically simple objects, even when they are beautifully made. The Polymesh behaves closer to a metallic textile. Each individual element moves only a tiny amount, but across the full structure, that motion becomes fluid. MING works with SISMA s.p.a and ProMotion s.p.a, who produce it through powder-bed laser sintering, requiring more than 1,000 printed layers, and have tolerances between moving components as tight as 30 microns. Too tight, and the links fuse together. Too loose, and the articulation loses its intended fluidity.

And that is only part of the challenge. In a print-in-place chainmail structure, the geometry has to account for laser heat spread, partially sintered powder, surface roughness, shrinkage and post-processing. The object is built inside loose titanium powder, and a dense mesh creates hundreds of small pockets where powder or debris can become trapped. Any remaining burrs or roughness could make the structure gritty, stiff, abrasive, or prone to wear. Unlike a static 3D-printed case, the Polymesh is a moving object with countless contact points constantly rubbing, rotating and loading against one another.

Is it a bracelet? Is it a strap?

To describe the Polymesh as a metal bracelet version of a strap does a disservice to everyone involved. It truly feels like nothing else. It looks vaguely like a mesh, has the material character of a bracelet, and is worn more like a strap, but that is about where the similarities end. On wrist, it drapes with an almost silk-like fluidity, but with the density and presence of titanium. There is weight and structure here, but not in the way you expect from metal. It is soft, but not limp; flexible, but not loose; technical, but still surprisingly organic. And it terms of flexibility, the inner structure can result in configurations that even most straps can’t get into.

There are no sharp corners, no obvious pinch points and no rough edges against the wrist. That alone is impressive for a product built around so many tiny moving contact surfaces. But what still amazes me is that, except for the spring bars, this entire product is additively manufactured. The joints, edges and buckle are all part of the same manufacturing story. The entire buckle was created together, meaning the interconnected parts that make up this three-piece buckle construction were fabricated at once rather than conventionally assembled.

Learning Curve & Appearance

If I had to criticize the Polymesh, it would be the learning curve. I remember a similar adjustment period when MING first introduced their keeper-less straps, and the Polymesh asks for the same kind of behavioral reset. It works best when sized slightly longer than you might instinctively choose, giving you enough room to tuck the tail comfortably. Removing it is less intuitive, because the locking pin that keeps the strap secure requires lifting the bottom half of the buckle and pulling the strap out. It feels unnatural at first, but becomes easy enough after a few attempts.

The finishing and aesthetic are acceptable to me, especially given how little precedent exists for this product. Of course, I would love to see it offered in every material and finishing combination imaginable. But a few months ago, nothing like this really existed in the watch world. A few years from now, this first generation may look primitive compared to what follows, and speaking as an engineer in research, that is exactly what progress looks like.

Final Thoughts

A lot of people will criticize the price, because viewed as a strap or bracelet, the Polymesh is very expensive. But I don’t think that is the right way to understand it. This is a radically new piece of technology being made available surprisingly early in its product cycle. If you want a mature accessory like a rubber strap or conventional bracelet, this probably is not the thing to buy. But for the right collector, the Polymesh will feel like a very reasonable price to pay for something extremely unusual and extremely impressive.

It will not suit every watch, every case design, or every material. But as an object, it is remarkable. It is expensive, niche and visually assertive, but it delivers an experience few watch accessories can offer. MING has taken state-of-the-art manufacturing and applied it to a very conservative corner of a laggard industry. For that reason alone, the Polymesh is worth celebrating.

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

Video

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

Video

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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