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Disclaimer: this video/review was not sponsored by Jiro Katayama, Otsuka Lotec or any other entity.

Video

No. 6: It All Comes Together

The No. 6 is the Otsuka Lotec that resonates with me the most. Even after the release of the No. 8, it remains my favorite design from the brand, and the one that best captures what makes Jiro Katayama’s work so distinctive. There is something especially complete about it. The visual language is clear, the mechanical concept is integrated into the architecture of the watch, and the overall object feels deeply considered from every angle.

A few years ago, Katayama described his inspiration as a fondness for things with an “analogue, low-tech feel”, which he also cited as the source of the brand name. If you ask me, that line could almost have been written specifically for the No. 6. More than any other Otsuka Lotec. It has the industrial character, the slightly eccentric presentation, and the sense of being designed around a specific mechanical experience rather than around a conventional luxury-watch template.

Part of why it stands out so strongly is that it doesn’t rely on sheer complexity to make its point. The No. 5 KAI has a more elaborate display, and the No. 8 pushes things even further, but the No. 6 feels especially distilled. It gets to the heart of the brand with unusual clarity.

A Familiar Idea, But With More Personality

A double retrograde display is not a new concept, and there is no need to pretend otherwise. As with the satellite-hour display of the No. 5 KAI, the interest here comes from execution. Katayama takes a known mechanical format and presents it in a way that feels unmistakably his own.

The front of the No. 6 has a slightly steampunk quality, though not in an exaggerated or theatrical sense. It comes through in the exposed screws, the visible structure of the dial, the thin needle-like hands, and the deeply recessed date display. There is a very deliberate instrument-panel feel to the whole thing. The paired hour and minute scales have the look of a panel gauge or measuring device, and the watch as a whole feels closer to an old machine interface than to a traditional dial composition.

That “atmosphere” is a big part of the appeal. The No. 6 displays time in an unusual way and it also creates a very specific mood while doing it. The design has character without being messy, and originality without feeling forced. That balance is not easy to achieve, and there is no shortage of examples of watches that attempt something like this but fail miserably, which is one reason I think this watch remains so memorable even in a lineup full of more mechanically ambitious pieces.

A Brilliant Case Design

For all the attention paid to the display, I still think the case design deserves more discussion than it usually gets. It is one of the strongest parts of the watch.

The No. 6 measures 42mm in diameter, 45mm from lug tip to lug tip across its wire lugs, and 12.10mm in overall thickness including the slightly protruding sapphire crystal and exhibition case-back. It also has a 5.5mm push-pull crown, 22mm lug spacing, and 30 meters of water resistance. Those numbers suggest a watch with a fair bit of presence, yet it wears far more compactly than expected. The short lug span helps a lot, and so does the relatively restrained visual opening of the dial.

The case has real depth and structure. It rises upward from the case-back into a broad upper section secured by eight visible screws, then steps into a narrower upper ring with a brushed top surface that supports the irregular sapphire crystal. Every level has a purpose, and the whole form carries a strong sense of intention. Compared with the No. 5 KAI, whose case is smoother and more fluid in its lines, the No. 6 has a denser, more mechanical character. I find that more appealing here because it suits the personality of the watch so well.

The wire lugs are another part of the design that works better in person than it might on paper. They angle downward toward the wrist, so the watch sits naturally and avoids the slightly awkward feel that some historic wire-lug cases can have. They also help connect the No. 6 to later models like the No. 7 and No. 7.5, which makes them feel like part of a broader design vocabulary.

Build quality is excellent. The finishing is industrial in style, much like the No. 5 KAI, and very well judged for the kind of watch this is. Otsuka Lotec, more broadly, feels like a compelling counterpoint to the kind of clinical perfection Japanese watchmaking is often associated with: the ultra-precise Sallaz-finished cases (Zaratsu) and impeccably diamond-cut indices of something like a Grand Seiko. What you get instead is something that feels convincing as a tool-like object, almost as though it belongs in a high-end recording studio or inside the cockpit of an old aircraft. And while Otsuka Lotec is careful in its operating guidance, warning against back-winding, excessive shock, and too much water exposure, the watch feels more robust on the wrist than those cautions might initially lead you to expect.

Designing With What You’ve Got

The dial is one of the clearest examples of Katayama’s ability to turn a practical limitation into a memorable design feature. The display itself is beautiful. The thin, needly hands move across the paired scales with a lightness that suits the overall theme, and the layout quickly becomes intuitive after a little time with the watch. The vertical brushing of the dial surface keeps things simple and appropriately technical, while the exposed screws reinforce the sense that this is a visible mechanism assembled with intent rather than a decorative surface applied over a movement.

The date window is especially memorable. It sits deep within the dial under a tapering conical frame, and that one detail adds a surprising amount of visual depth to the front of the watch. It also seems to come from a very practical place. The dual-retrograde module adds height over the movement and date wheel, and instead of disguising that fact, Otsuka Lotec leans into it. It feels distinctive, slightly quirky, and perfectly in tune with the brand’s DNA.

Turn the watch over and the exhibition case-back reveals the Miyota 9 Series movement that powers it. I have no issue with that whatsoever. Miyota’s 9 Series is reliable, robust, sensibly proportioned, and entirely appropriate for a brand that clearly wants to keep things Japanese while focusing its efforts on custom displays, case construction, and the overall integrity of the design. In a watch like this, an elaborately decorated Swiss movement would add little and might even distract from the point.

The No. 6 has also had some very interesting editions over the years. The meteorite version is excellent, and the black PVD-coated unique piece with a tinted black sapphire dial may be my favorite take on the design yet, and I hope to see a production version watch with a similar aesthetic at some point.

No. 6: Still My Favorite

On my 6.75″ wrist, the No. 6 is excellent. The 42mm diameter never feels unwieldy because the watch is pulled inward by its compact lug-to-lug span, the downward angle of the wire lugs, and the modest size of the visible dial opening. The end result is a watch with presence but very little sprawl. It feels focused, compact, and surprisingly easy to wear.

My only real hesitation is the strap. As with the No. 5 KAI, it is well made, but I did not particularly enjoy it and replaced it quickly. That is a minor issue and an easy one to solve, though it remains one of the few parts of the package that feels less convincing than the watch head itself.

As I’ve repeatedly said in this article and the last, what keeps me coming back to the No. 6 is the degree to which everything feels aligned. The case, the display, the visible construction, the date aperture, and the overall mood all support the same idea. There is no sense of one part trying to pull the watch in a different direction. That coherence is rare, and it is one of the main reasons this remains my favorite Otsuka Lotec.

The No. 6 also says a great deal about Jiro Katayama as a designer. His background in machining and case-making continues to show through in the way these watches are conceived. The No. 6 does not feel like a movement with an unusual dial placed on top of it. It feels like a complete object shaped by one person’s taste, one person’s design instincts, and one person’s fascination with analogue mechanical interfaces. For me, it remains the watch that captures the essence of Otsuka Lotec best.

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The post Otsuka Lotec Part 2: No. 6 & Shaping a Design Language appeared first on RK Watch Service.

Beans & Bezels Beans & Bezels

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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Beans & Bezels Beans & Bezels

Disclaimer: This watch was sent to me to review, and I do not need to return it after my review is complete. This watch was given to me without restriction and is not contingent upon a particular outcome for my review. All opinions here are my own, and Horizon had no influence over the opinions stated here.

Horizon Spectrum “DotCom”: https://www.horizon-watches.com/product-page/horizon-spectrum-dotcom

Video

Review

Horizon is still a young micro-brand, co-founded in around 2021-2022 by Fred Bekher and Sugi Kusumadi, but the “new brand” label has never really fit the way their watches present in the metal. Bekher, in particular, is a seasoned watch designer, with a long track record of work for brands like Zelos, Arcturus, Velhelm, Gruppo Gamma, and Feynman Timepieces, while Kusumadi is also deeply embedded in the watch scene through his watch store in Singapore. And I’ll just say it up front: I personally love Fred Bekher’s work. I think he’s one of the most talented watch designers out there, full stop, not just in microbrands. He has a real sense of originality, and I have immense respect for designers who can break free from the mold instead of iterating on the same familiar templates.

Horizon’s earlier releases, like the Jules Verne inspired Nemo, already proved they could stand out, but the Spectrum feels like the moment they decide to turn the dial even further. It’s their boldest, most design-forward watch yet, and was submitted to the GPHG 2025, which is an audacious swing for a small brand. And I’m sure plenty of people will dismiss it for that very reason, because it is unapologetically graphic, colorful, and architectural. But I think it’s one of the most interesting releases I’ve seen from the micro-brand space in years, and I’m hoping my review and photography can communicate why.

Before the Spectrum, Horizon’s lineup moved in clear chapters: the -N- debut, the Pilgrim, and the Nemo (with offshoots like AnoNemo and Nemolithic). And then there’s the Horizon x Selten piece, which is especially cool here because it’s a genuine “watch-nerd” collab between two brands I’m a fan of, blending Horizon’s case design magic with Selten’s dial wizardry.

Pricing for the Spectrum is $1,150 USD, and that includes a very unique bracelet plus a premium FKM rubber strap that’s designed around the watch. The watch appears to be ready for immediate delivery. Note: if you sign up to the brand’s newsletter, you can get 10% off.

Let’s check it out!

Case

I measured the case at 37.85mm in diameter, 46.7mm lug tip to lug tip, and 11.75mm in overall thickness, and that thickness figure includes the roughly 2mm boxed sapphire crystal. Lug width is 20mm, which makes strap options easy, but the included bracelet and rubber strap are excellent to begin with. The case is entirely stainless steel, and it’s one of the most refreshing and original designs I’ve seen in a very long time. The level of sculptural intent here is rare at any price point, and especially so in the microbrand space. The detailing is so rich that I honestly feel like I could do an entire review of just this case, because every perspective reveals something new: a different transition, a new surface, a surprising cut, a bevel that catches the light differently than you expected.

The mid-case is the foundation of the whole thing: a perfectly rounded, pebble-like silhouette with a clean brushed finish that makes it feel smooth and organic. But then Horizon breaks that softness up with deep side recesses on both the left and right flanks, each framed by polished borders and finished with a brushed inner cavity. The depth and definition here are incredible, and it’s one of those details that makes the watch feel like an artifact from a sci-fi movie.

And then, integrated into that fluid mid-case, you get the four lugs, which are sharp, aggressive, and honestly a little bit outrageous in the best way. They dominate the personality of the watch, with a mix of brushed and polished finishing that gives the case a ton of personality. From a top-down view, the watch reads as entirely brushed, and the continuity is excellent: the vertical brushing on the bezel flows naturally into the top surfaces of the lugs, which makes the whole shape feel cohesive rather than pieced together.

From the side, it’s an entirely different aesthetic. Aside from that recessed pebble midcase, the profile is dominated by polished surfaces, and the way those polished planes interact with the brushing is masterfully handled. It’s a case that never looks flat, because the design and the finishing are doing all the work: separating forms, emphasizing curvature, and making those recesses look even deeper than they already are.

The crown is another highlight: a 7mm screw-down crown with excellent grip, paired with a well-machined crown tube that feels smooth in use. Flipping the watch over, the case-back continues that pebble curvature of the mid-case, and the lugs gently extend beyond it, almost like the feet of this little sci-fi machine. The case-back is screw-down, and the crown is screw-down too, but water resistance is rated at 50m. I’m slightly surprised by that, because all the ingredients feel like they’re here to push it to 100m, but honestly, 50m is more than sufficient for most real-world activities.

Dial

The dial is one of those designs that feels the least traditional in its intent, and more like a piece of modern graphic art that just happens to tell time. There are no applied indices, no numerals, and no conventional minute track. Instead, it’s built like a little piece of graphic architecture: loud, geometric, and disciplined; the kind of thing that genuinely wouldn’t feel out of place at the MoMA Design Store. The colours are bold and unapologetic, but the composition is controlled and perfectly balanced.

And a big part of that comes down to the fact that this isn’t just colors on a flat plate. It has a three-layer construction: the topmost layer is a single circular piece of CNC-machined stainless steel with crisp polished ridges that reflect light from the dial and the hands. Below it you have what Horizon calls the “pizza” segment: a four-section plate filled with different colours that gives the Spectrum its name. There’s also a raised inner section that creates an almost architectural “stage” for the hands, framed by the stainless steel ring, adding another plane to the design and making the whole thing feel dimensional rather than graphic. On the outside of the stainless steel ring is a glass overlay over the pizza segment, which offers a slight opacity to the colors, making sure your focus is always drawn towards the center, but without being obvious about it.

What really brings the dial to life, though, is the crystal. The boxed sapphire behaves like a lens at certain angles: the curvature and height catch and bend the geometry near the edges, turning straight stripes into curves and giving the whole composition a subtle sense of motion as you move your wrist.

The hands are the other key part of the equation, because Horizon is basically asking you to accept a slightly different relationship with legibility here. The hour and minute hands are bold, lume-filled batons that have a good amount of presence, and the seconds hand adds a bit of playful precision with a lollipop counterbalance and a lume-filled triangular arrow tip. And because there are no markers to “land” on, you’re reading the time by where the hands are in space rather than what they’re pointing at. I know that’s going to put off a lot of traditionalists, but after owning plenty of MINGs and other sci-fi-leaning watches without definitive markings, I’m quite comfortable with it.

Even the colour selection, according to Horizon, wasn’t left to chance. The three Spectrum variants were chosen with algorithmic help, using AI-assisted colour theory, so that each version maps to a distinct emotional tone.

Lume

Lume on the Spectrum is minimal in terms of where it’s applied, because only the hands are lumed, but the execution is solid. Horizon didn’t skimp on the fill: the hour and minute hands get a generous application, and even the seconds hand’s triangular tip is densely packed with lume that makes it easy to pick out in the dark.

Now, without any hour markers, you don’t get that instant “glance and go” readability at night, but if you can orient the watch on your wrist, it’s still legible enough to confidently infer the time from the hands alone. I do love how the lume on the hands plays with the stainless steel dial ring, creating some wonderful visuals. Personally, I would’ve loved to see a little more lume woven into the design, maybe a subtle lumed ring around the periphery to match the Spectrum’s architecture, but to be fair, I always want more lume in watch designs, so maybe don’t take me too seriously on that one.

Movement

The Spectrum uses the Miyota 9015 automatic, and while I used to have some reservations about the 9-series experience, mainly the uni-directional winding and that audible rotor spin, I’ve come around to it in a big way over the years. After handling a wide range of movements in this bracket from Miyota, Seiko, Sellita, and ETA, I’ve ended up preferring the 9015: it’s thin, robust, and consistently reliable, even if it doesn’t always deliver the “factory-regulated Swiss” romance some buyers chase. And for this watch in particular, I’m genuinely glad Horizon went with the 9015 instead of the Sellita SW200 they used in the Nemo.

The rotor continues the Spectrum’s dial theme in an impressive execution: it presents as a full, symmetrical design, yet it clearly has an asymmetrical weight distribution because the winding efficiency is excellent and the rotor spins exactly as you’d expect from a traditional layout. The clever part is that the mass is essentially “hidden” by the case-back architecture, so you get this striking, balanced look through the display back without sacrificing function. This particular watch was running at +4 seconds per day, which is excellent for this movement.

On The Wrist

The 37.85mm diameter and 46.7mm lug tip-to-lug tip distance put it in that sweet spot where it’ll sit comfortably on almost all wrist sizes. What’s interesting is that it doesn’t look like a 38mm watch at a glance, because the lugs are so bold and so expressive that they visually expand the footprint. It has real presence, just without the actual bulk usually associated with that presence.

The 11.75mm thickness includes the roughly 2mm boxed sapphire crystal, so on wrist it actually wears slimmer than you’d expect from the spec sheet. The mid-case feels more svelte, the watch is planted on the wrist nicely, and the crystal height adds intentional character.

And then there’s the bracelet, which is frankly excellent. It’s a 7-link design with no taper, but it flows perfectly and suits the watch’s design language in a way that makes the whole package feel cohesive. The build quality and finishing here is genuinely impressive: it is one of those bracelets that reminds you how far the micro-brand scene has come in the last few years. Each link has rounded bevels, a fully brushed finish, and really good articulation. The clasp is a butterfly-style deployant with a solid twin trigger release mechanism, and it feels secure and well made.

The end links are another standout detail. Cases like this, especially with an unusual shape and dramatic lugs, often struggle with bracelet integration. You tend to end up with something that looks “neither here nor there”, and tend to just feel you’ve had to compromise somehow (think the MING Universal Bracelet). Here, the end links sit flush with the curvature of the case, and there’s a groove in the end link that perfectly mates with the bottom of the case, creating a robust integrated feel without distracting from the case design. My only real criticism is that sizing uses a pin-and-collar system, but honestly, that 20-minute investment to size it is completely worth it.

Horizon also includes an FKM rubber strap that feels bespoke in the same way the bracelet does. I like that the bracelet doesn’t taper, but I do wish the rubber strap had a touch of taper from 20mm to 18mm. Still, it’s a really well-considered strap: it tapers in thickness from about 4.25mm at the case to roughly 2.75mm at the buckle. The buckle is another strong design detail and matches the case nicely; I just wish it were slightly smaller. Because the strap stays 20mm at the buckle, the overall buckle width lands at around 26mm, so it looks a bit large visually even though it wears great.

But honestly, these are all minor nitpicks. As a complete package, the Spectrum is a 10/10 for wearability: great proportions, an exceptional bracelet, and a high-quality rubber strap that feels purpose-built rather than tossed in as an accessory.

Wrapping Up

Fred and Sugi have created a bit of a masterpiece with the Spectrum, and I’ve tried throughout this review to communicate just how exceptional it is: especially that case design, and the way it flows so naturally into a bracelet that feels purpose-built rather than merely fitted. I also know it won’t be for everyone; it contradicts a lot of traditional ideas of watch design with its dial, and it almost feels seriously unserious in the way it tells time. But that’s exactly the point: a return to the fundamentals, reimagined into something genuinely new, and I’m glad Fred had the conviction to materialize those ideas into a real watch.

If you can appreciate originality and truly ambitious design execution, I can’t recommend the Spectrum highly enough. I’m completely smitten by it, and it’s honestly one of my favorite case designs in a very long time. I really hope Horizon builds on this platform, because it feels like they’ve struck gold here.

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