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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The post Horizon Spectrum appeared first on RK Watch Service.

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 1776 Atelier, Hour Precision had no influence over the opinions stated here.

1776 Atelier Mount Vernon: https://1776atelier.com/watches/mount-vernon-aventurine

Hour Precision: https://hourprecision.com

Klok Work: https://www.instagram.com/klokworkllc

Video

Review

1776 Atelier is one of the more compelling young American independents to emerge in the past couple of years because they’ve built their brand around the harder, less glamorous work of actually advancing the state of American watchmaking. The name is doing some of that signaling up front. “1776” is an overt nod to the country’s origin story, but it’s also a mission statement: build capability here, expand what can be made here, and do it in a way that collectors can realistically participate in.

The brand was founded by Jason Lu, a self-taught watchmaker who has spent years learning by proximity, absorbing ideas from accomplished watchmakers and engineers across the U.S. and Germany, including time spent around the DK Precision Mechanics ecosystem. I’ve also met Jason in person, and what stood out immediately was how humble he is. He’s extremely passionate about watches, but is especially motivated to build great watches while creating as much value in America as possible. And that humility isn’t performative: after about twenty minutes of pestering him, I realized he’s doing far more than the public-facing role. He handles most of the hand finishing, something that isn’t emphasized on the brand’s website, but feels very much worth mentioning in this category of watchmaking.

The other half of the story is Zach Smith. I’ve been following Zach on Instagram for years, and he’s earned a deep level of respect from me because his approach to “making stuff in America” is refreshingly practical too. He’s an engineer, a Certified WOSTEP watchmaker, and a manufacturer. Zach runs Hour Precision, but he’s also a formal partner to Jason within 1776 Atelier, and his work has helped bring all of the brand’s watches to life, including their excellent new release, the Montpelier.

If you ask me, there’s a real difference between building an “artisanal” watch in America for $70,000-$100,000 and building a sustainable watch brand that meaningfully elevates the state of watchmaking here: for both the people making these components and the people buying the watches. I think creators like Jason Lu, Zach Smith, Roland Murphy at RGM, and brands like SeL may ultimately do more to reshape American watchmaking than a boutique maker catering to the 1% of the 1%…but hey, that’s just my opinion.

Within the current lineup, the Mount Vernon is the brand’s most successful product, and it feels a bit like an appetizer for what’s coming. It’s where you can start to see how real value is created when components are manufactured domestically; and then finished correctly, beautifully, and at a price that doesn’t automatically exclude most serious enthusiasts.

The watch on hand here is the Mount Vernon Aventurine, fitted with upgrades including American Gun Scroll Engraving (+$1600) on the movement (done by Klok Work, also in the United States) and Triple Snailing (+$375) on the crown and ratchet wheels, bringing the total price of this configuration to $6,075. The standard Mount Vernon, with more traditional finishing and no engraving, starts at $3,900, and even in that form, the movement still carries a meaningful amount of hand work, and looks genuinely impressive for the category.

Let’s check it out!

Movement

I typically discuss the movement towards the end of my reviews, but with this piece, the movement is the reason you buy this watch, the movement shows off what the brand does best, and the movement gives you a true taste of what the brand can do. Powering the watch is the hand-wound Caliber 621.1788, built on the familiar Unitas/ETA 6498 architecture: a big, simple, traditional layout that is still the foundation of some of the most impressive indie watches on the market today. It runs at 3Hz with a 48-hour power reserve, and keeps the classic small seconds at 6 o’clock.

The main-plate and bridges are manufactured in Ohio by Zach, with Hour Precision functioning as the brand’s in-house movement manufacturing capability, while the majority of the hand finishing is executed by Jason in Texas (with some overlap in duties, since Zach is also a watchmaker).

Visually, the movement leans hard into contrast: with a black rhodium main-plate, paired with rose gold-finished elements including the balance bridge, nameplate, and parts of the gear train. All the screws are black polished, and even though the dial is made of Aventurine, the movement delivers a more dynamic visual experience. There is also hand-executed anglage on all exposed edges, graining on the gear train and a matte finished movement base.

Here, the most notable aesthetic upgrade is the American Gun Scroll engraving option. The team described that pattern as taking roughly two to two and a half full days of engraving work, carved scroll-by-scroll so each example ends up slightly unique.

Beyond the engraving itself, the finishing details are where the movement starts to feel more serious than its price might suggest: there are three interior angles that are executed entirely by hand using traditional methods.

The separation between finishes is also deliberately emphasized, including a contrast between mirror-polished bevels and adjacent surfaces that are kept satin or frosted and sharply defined. And that creates an incredible sense of depth and detail, particularly when looking at it up close. Finally, this piece features snailing on the winding wheels, with polished teeth – triple snailing to the ratchet wheel and the crown wheel remains double-snailed due to its size. In terms of timekeeping, this movement was running at a very healthy and accurate +3 spd.

And importantly, this isn’t where the story ends. 1776 has already shown what it can do when it steps beyond the familiar 6498 template with the Montpelier, which brings a more intricate, proprietary architecture to the table, a skeletonized three-quarter bridge and balance bridge, and a finishing spec that reads like a clear step up from the Mount Vernon while still leaning on the same core strengths: Hour Precision’s manufacturing capability and Jason’s bench work. But this time also enlisting DK Precision Mechanics. Even more ambitious is what they’re developing in parallel: the brand has been openly working toward its own free-sprung balance, and has gone a step further by experimenting with a star-shaped balance design, which is a remarkably bold endeavor for a team this small.

Since there won’t be any lume comparisons here, I thought it would be interesting to put this movement beside some other beautiful movements, such as the Patek Philippe Cal. 240, Habring A11GSP and Christopher Ward CW003. The Mount Vernon certainly makes a compelling case with just how attractive it looks, and even makes the Habring look a bit dull in comparison, even though I absolutely adore that movement.

Case

I measured the case to be 40.25mm in diameter, 48.5mm lug-to-lug, and 11.3mm thick, with a 20mm lug width, dimensions that make it a bit large for the genre it is in, but yet comfortable and surprisingly well balanced. This Swiss Made case is made entirely of stainless steel and feels solid and well-constructed. Where some brands use the case as a signature design element, 1776 Atelier plays it safe here. The silhouette is traditional and, in profile and proportion, reminiscent of watches like Laine’s V38, down to the fully polished, classically styled execution.

It’s a clean, dressy package: no sculpted mid-case, no contrasting brushing, and little in the way of distinctive geometry. The build quality and finishing is well done, but it feels more selected than designed. The 6.5mm push-pull crown at 3 o’clock is sized appropriately and signed. And while the design may not break new ground, it is handled competently. A domed sapphire crystal with anti-reflective coating keeps the dial clear, and the screw-in exhibition case-back shows off a movement that usefully fills the case footprint perfectly. Water resistance is 30 meters: unremarkable, but typical for this style of watch.

If you want the case to feel more personal, they offer hand case engraving as an up-charge, turning the otherwise conservative exterior into something genuinely one-off; but I believe the skill, effort and costs associated with hand engraving a case deserves a customer who will truly appreciate it.

Dial

The dial design follows the well-trodden formula of independent watchmaking: a guilloché inner dial, small seconds at six o’clock, Breguet numerals, and an applied nameplate beneath twelve. That said, it is a very attractive layout, and perhaps why it has become somewhat of a classic template for watchmakers. This particular piece features their Aventurine and guilloché dial combo.

Both the dial and hands are sourced from Germany, though I can easily imagine these components being produced locally as the brand matures and develops more domestic capability – we’ve already seen Zach Smith and Hour Precision deliver a beautiful hand set for Cornell Watch Company. The dial itself is very well executed, with a pleasing contrast between the cosmic Aventurine outer ring and the inner white guilloché, which, while stamped rather than hand-turned, looks crisp and consistent.

The two sections are divided by a brushed and raised metal ring, adding dimensionality alongside the bold applied Breguet numerals, which are vertically brushed and sharply cut. The small seconds subdial at six o’clock features its own distinct stamped guilloché pattern, framed by another brushed ring for visual continuity, while a raised, brushed minute track wraps up the composition with legible markings for minutes and five minute increments. Together, the layered textures, finishes, and elevations create depth and character, making the dial far more engaging than its conventional design might suggest.

The handset is nicely finished with distinct facets that help with legibility, though I do wish the hour and minute hands extended a touch further; with the hour hand closer to the edge of the guilloché center and the minute hand out to the minute track for sharper legibility. Still, they don’t feel undersized in practice and remain easy to read. The brand’s logo is pad-printed on an applied nameplate under twelve, a familiar but well-executed finishing touch. Overall, the attention to detail and quality control on the dial is very good, and I like that the brand has quite a few options to choose from, with various combinations of materials, textures, and styles.

On The Wrist

On my 6.75-inch wrist, the watch’s 40.25mm diameter and 48.5mm lug-to-lug dimensions work reasonably well, sitting flat and balanced without feeling oversized. That said, given the dressy and traditional nature of the watch, I think trimming 1 to 1.5mm off the diameter and 2 to 3mm off the lug span would have made it noticeably more versatile and wearable for a wider range of wrist sizes. But since this watch is based on the 6498 architecture, there’s only so much smaller they can go without having to completely redesign the movement or choose a much smaller base like the ETA 7001, which would likely introduce a lot of empty space.

In its current form, I would hesitate to recommend it for wrists smaller than 6.25 inches, as the lugs might start to overhang. The 11.3mm overall thickness feels well-proportioned, though shaving off around 1mm could be nice, especially since it’s a manual-wind watch without any extraordinary water resistance.

1776 Atelier offers a variety of American-made straps, and the one supplied with this watch is very nice, paired with a signed deployant clasp. The deployant is of a familiar Omega-style design, feels robust and secure, and the overall presence and comfort on the wrist is excellent.

Wrapping Up

The Mount Vernon isn’t trying to reinvent the dress watch – the case and dial are handsome and well executed, but the design language is fairly conventional, and it won’t satisfy someone chasing novelty in form or layout. Where this watch earns its keep is the movement. The finishing quality, the thought put into the components, and the overall visual coherence on the back are legitimately impressive for the category, and it’s the part of the watch that most clearly communicates what 1776 Atelier is about. Just as importantly, it feels like a preview: the Mount Vernon reads as a stepping stone, and the Montpelier already suggests what this team can do when given a bit more room to create.

And that’s why 1776 remains one to watch (pun intended). Building a sustainable, scalable, practical watch brand in America is a very different challenge than making aggressively artisanal pieces for a tiny sliver of collectors, and 1776 Atelier appears to be aiming for the former without losing the craft. If they stay disciplined and keep executing at this level, they have all the ingredients and the talent to become a meaningful part of modern American watchmaking.

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The post 1776 Atelier Mount Vernon appeared first on RK Watch Service.

Beans & Bezels Beans & Bezels

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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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 O&HoraPictor had no influence over the opinions stated here.

O&HoraPictor Yellow Track: https://www.horapictor.com/product/yellow-track/

Video

Review

It wasn’t too long ago that enamel dials were something you mostly associated with old-world pocket watches or five-figure independents, and then anOrdain came along and quietly blew that assumption up. They didn’t just make enamel more accessible, they helped create a whole new lane for enthusiasts who wanted artisanal watches without having to sell a kidney. Then, it was only a matter of time before other small brands stepped in to feed this massive demand, like Vitreum and even Selten. And now you’ve got O&HoraPictor operating squarely in that same increasingly successful space: affordable enamel dials, low volume production, and designs that feel aimed directly at the enthusiasts.

From what I’ve been able to find, the brand didn’t start life under that name. Originally, they were known as Orodol, and the early pitch leaned heavily into the bespoke side of the hobby, offering custom enamel work and made-to-order dials. They’ve now rebranded as O&HoraPictor, a name that’s also their mission statement. “Hora” for time, “Pictor” for painter; so the idea is “painter of time”, with the “O” serving as a nod to their earlier Orodol identity. The result is a brand that’s very young and still building its track record, but one that clearly wants to be taken seriously on the strength of its dial work.

And that brings us to the watch here: the Yellow Track, priced at $1,665 USD. It is expensive enough that you expect real skill and real finishing, but still within reach for someone who wants to experience enamel without treating it like a once-in-a-lifetime purchase. The brand appears to be operating out of Hong Kong, and while there’s always going to be a little extra scrutiny that comes with a newer name and a less-established footprint, the work itself is what matters most.

So, let’s take a look at what’s being offered here…

Case

The case of the Yellow Track doesn’t try to reinvent the wheel, and feels pretty familiar on all fronts. In terms of proportions, I measured it at 38mm in diameter, 45.15mm lug-to-lug, and 11.30mm thick, and that thickness figure includes the roughly 1mm gently curved sapphire crystal. Lug width is 20mm, which makes shopping for straps easy. It is made entirely of stainless steel, with a fairly simple overall silhouette. The mid-case is fully polished, and it flows into lugs that curve down quite dramatically toward the wrist. The top surfaces of the lugs are polished as well, so the case leans more dressy than sporty in terms of finishing.

You then get a thin, rounded, polished bezel that neatly frames the crystal. The sapphire itself has a gentle curve and, importantly, a healthy amount of anti-reflective coating. That matters more than you might think when you combine crystal curvature with a dial that’s meant to be stared at, because without decent AR you end up fighting glare instead of appreciating what’s inside.

At 3 o’clock there’s a 5.5mm push-pull crown that’s signed and finished nicely. The knurling has this rounded, slightly asymmetric character that honestly reminds me a bit of F.P. Journe. In use it’s a touch slippery and soft, but is sufficiently ‘grippy’ for operation, and visually it’s a great match for the polished case.

Flip the watch over and you’ll find a screw-in caseback, also polished, with a fairly large sapphire exhibition window to show off that very attractive rotor. Water resistance is 50 meters, which feels entirely appropriate for a watch like this. Overall, it’s a clean, well-proportioned case that doesn’t have much design identity of its own, but that’s par for the course with many artisanal, dial-centric brands.

Dial

The whole point of a watch like this is the dial, and with enamel it helps to understand what you’re actually paying for. A grand feu enamel dial is essentially a glass dial: finely ground enamel powder is applied to a metal blank, then fired in a kiln at very high temperatures until it melts, flows, and fuses into a hard, glossy (or in some cases matte) surface. The process is repeated in multiple layers and firings to build depth and stability, and every cycle introduces risk: dust, bubbles, hairline cracks, warping, or slight color shifts can ruin a dial and send it back to square one.

In this case (pun intended), the Yellow Track uses an opaque enamel, and they describe the dial as being made with a dry-sifting technique. In other words, enamel powder is sifted evenly onto the dial base before firing, and after firing they say it settles into a uniform, matte surface rather than the deep gloss you might associate with some grand feu work. They also frame their enamel work more broadly as a multi-step process involving repeated firings at around 800°C (they mention at least eight cycles), and mention that their dials are hand polished before the pad printing step.

Design-wise, the dial takes a very practical, almost sports-watch-like approach to timekeeping, which I find very appealing. You get a highly legible outer track packed with fine graduations for fractions of a second, distinct markings for every minute, clearer emphasis at five-minute increments, and then a really satisfying sector-style layout that organizes everything into clean, readable zones. It’s symmetrical, purposeful, and manages to gently tread the line between artistic and practical. And for whatever reason, the overall vibe also reminds me a bit of Laurent Ferrier, but because it has that same calm, disciplined “precision instrument” energy, and it even faintly echoes the visual language of Ferrier’s collaboration with Phillips, that also played with similar ideas of sectors, tracks, and artisanal restraint.

Then there’s the handset, which is absolutely a big part of the magic here. It’s a genuinely distinctive set of hands: slender, stylized, and almost old-world in character. It feels like something you could drop onto a 100-year-old pocket watch without it looking out of place. They’re thermally blued and they’ve done an exceptional job, because the color is rich and even, and the hands look perfect even under macro scrutiny.

Overall, the dial is the reason you buy this watch. That yellow opaque enamel base is bold without being garish, the symmetry and sector-like structure give it real design discipline, and the hands add a layer of charm and personality that you don’t see too often. It all comes together in a way that’s both beautiful and, somehow, still quite utilitarian.

Movement

Inside you’ll find a Sellita SW200-1 in Elaboré grade, and it’s no secret at this point that I don’t love this movement. To be clear, that has very little to do with performance The SW200-1 is a perfectly competent, widely serviceable workhorse, and when things work well it can run beautifully for years. But from my own experience, a frustratingly large fraction of the SW200-equipped watches I’ve owned or reviewed have eventually succumbed to the familiar windmilling rotor issue, or developed some degree of hand-winding fussiness that makes the movement feel less refined than it should.

From an aesthetic standpoint, it is very well executed here. The Elaboré finishing is a lot nicer than most alternatives in this price range, and the display-back presentation is genuinely thoughtful. The movement sits with a nicely judged concave spacing to the case, which keeps it from feeling too small relative to the case. The rotor is the standout though: gold-colored, with brushed surfaces and an almost hand-hammered/distressed texture that looks incredible. They went further with an enamelled red nameplate, secured by thermally blued screws, and that mix of color, texture, and craft feels perfectly on-brand for an enamel-focused brand. I was informed by the brand that the finishing quality of these screws is not up to their current standards, and that they have improved their finishing since making this prototype.

In use, it performed well: beating at roughly +5 seconds per day, which is good for an Elaboré SW200-1. There’s also a ghost date position here, which isn’t something I fuss about too much, but I know people feel strongly towards this. Still, the execution and presentation do a lot of heavy lifting here.

On The Wrist

On the wrist, it lands squarely in that Goldilocks zone that’s very hard to argue with. The 38mm case diameter and 45.15mm lug-to-lug feel tailor-made for a watch in this genre, striking a balance that works across a wide range of wrist sizes, and on my 6.75″ wrist it fits perfectly. It has enough presence to show off the dial work, but it isn’t oversized or overly ‘vintage’. Thickness is similarly well executed. At 11.30mm, and about 1mm of that is the slightly domed crystal, so it tends to look and wear slimmer than its measurements.

The comfort is helped a lot by the way the lugs curve down and hug the wrist, and the included leather strap is better than I expected. It required no break-in, feels premium right out of the box, and it’s finished off with a well designed signed buckle, rather than the generic hardware. Taken together, it is simply a very comfortable watch: excellent proportions, a case that sits naturally, and a strap that feels like a effort (and money) was put into its selection.

Wrapping Up

The “attainable enamel” genre is still relatively new, but it’s growing quickly, and it’s already packed with strong contenders. At $1,665, the Yellow Track sits in a tough segment, yet it makes a convincing case for itself, largely on the strength of its dial design and the quality of its yellow enamel execution. The Elaboré-grade Swiss movement will also appeal to a lot of buyers, and the rotor design and finishing are genuinely standout details that show real effort. If you want something that feels artisanal, with a dial that leans slightly dressy but remains practical and sporty, all housed in a well-proportioned case, the Yellow Track deserves a spot on your shortlist.

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Beans & Bezels Beans & Bezels

Disclaimer: This watch prototype was sent to me to review. This is not a sponsored post, but the brand will send me a Jui Bauhini production unit in the future. All opinions here are my own, and Selten, WatchHo&Co. had no influence over the opinions stated here.

Selten x WatchHo&Co. Jui Bauhinia Purple: https://seltenwatch.com/products/jui-%E8%81%9A-bauhinia-cnc-guilloche-mop-whc-x-selten-purple?variant=51511801544836

Selten x WatchHo&Co. Jui Bauhinia Pink: https://seltenwatch.com/products/jui-%E8%81%9A-bauhinia-whc-x-selten-pink?variant=51511800987780

Video

Review

At this point you probably already know that I’m a huge fan of Selten, a Hong Kong based microbrand founded by Leonardo Tsai, who comes from a family of watch dial manufacturers. And that pedigree shows in the brand’s dial-first approach, from meteorite slices and hand-patinated bronze to guilloché mother-of-pearl. I’ve reviewed several of their releases (Series 00 Meteorite, Salvage Bronze, M1 Moonphase, Grand Feu Enamel, and the original Jui), and their early Kickstarter success helped establish a track record, but they now deliver their ambitious designs without any crowdfunding drama. The Jui itself was also a departure in the best way: a collaboration with Hong Kong’s enthusiast club Watch Ho & Co. (WH&C), co-founded by Jackie Ho, a “good vibes only” community known for frequent collector meetups and creative limited editions, including prior collaborations with other brands.

What’s different this time is that I’m coming into the Bauhinia editions with more than just first impressions. I’ve owned and worn the original Jui since reviewing it about six months ago, and it’s genuinely been a great addition to my collection. And as I’ll get into later, the recently announced bracelet option has been a meaningful upgrade too, particularly because I prefer bracelet watches in general. These new pink and purple Bauhinia dials also feel like the natural next step for them: Selten had early prototypes on hand at WindUp NYC, and every time I stopped by their booth I saw people hovering, pointing, and praising them… so it’s not at all surprising that those “teaser” dials from the first release evolved into full production variants. I’m also glad Selten didn’t force a single choice, because the truth is both dials are gorgeous in different ways. And as with the last release, the accompanying artwork was designed by Lee Yuen-Rapati (@onehourwatch).

The new Jui Bauhinia pieces are limited to 200 per color, with 100 pieces of each available for immediate delivery, priced at $1,250 USD, with an additional $150 if you add the bracelet (which, in my opinion, you absolutely should). And if you’re wondering why these come in about $150 higher than the original, I’m sure tariffs and exchange rates played their part, but I also suspect the move to thermally treated hands contributed to the jump as well.

Let’s check it out!

Dial

The dials follow the same playbook as the original Jui: same Escher-esque tessellation, CNC-engraved pattern (fans of Micke Mechanic will know this one), and the same satisfying sense of depth that only really reveals itself when you get the watch moving under light. Instead of a natural black Tahitian mother-of-pearl base, Selten starts with a white mother-of-pearl and tints it into either purple or pink, in an iridescent candy-coated way. The geometry remains razor crisp, with clean valleys and sharply defined edges that could easily look muddy on a temperamental substrate like MOP. They are both dials that refuse to sit still, and as with the original, their dynamic nature is hard to capture in photographs but feel genuinely alive in person.

The other big shift, and the one that’s easiest to underestimate until you try to photograph it, is the handset. Where the original Jui used matte, media-blasted, skeletonized triangular hands that were all about legibility and understatement, the Bauhinia editions upgrade to polished hands that are thermally colored: blue on the purple dial, and purple on the pink. This isn’t paint or PVD; it’s the old-school process of heating polished steel in air so a controlled oxide layer forms on the surface. That oxide layer is microscopically thin, and its thickness determines the perceived color through light interference… so you’re not “dyeing” the metal so much as carefully stopping the tempering process at the exact point where the spectrum lands where you want it.

Blue is the classic destination most people associate with heat-treated hands, and while it still requires care, it’s relatively forgiving because the blue stage tends to be easier to identify and hold consistently. Purple, on the other hand, lives in a narrower window: stay a touch too cool or stop a moment too early and you’re flirting with bronze tones; push it slightly too far and it begins marching toward blue. On hands this thin, with their mix of edges, facets, and varying mass, maintaining uniform color from hub to tip is not easy, and any uneven heating or tiny difference in polishing can show up as a subtle shift in hue, especially at purple.

Both sets of hands show excellent consistency in tone and finish, with no obvious patchiness, blotching, or “rainbowing” along the edges. And the way the hand color interacts with the tinted MOP is just…perfect. The blued hands on the purple dial swing from a deep inky navy to electric cobalt depending on angle, while the purple-treated hands on the pink dial can read almost black in low light, then suddenly flash violet when a highlight catches the polish.

It’s beautiful, but it’s also why these watches are a bit frustrating to photograph: the dial’s iridescence is already a moving target, and the hands add another challenge, because the polished surfaces can either disappear into the dial or blow out into bright reflections depending on the light source and camera angle. Macro helps, but even then you’re chasing the moment where the dial’s texture, the MOP’s color shift, and the hands’ thermal tone all land in harmony: something that’s easy to experience in person but elusive through a lens.

Compared to the original’s media-blasted hands, which were excellent in their own right, and arguably the right choice for a darker dial, the Bauhinia handset feels like a deliberate step up. You can see the added work that goes into polishing, and in the controlled thermal treatment. It’s hard to come away disappointed by the quality of execution here, and the pricing starts to feel very compelling the moment you put these dials under a macro lens. This is usually where more affordable watches begin to show the little shortcuts or compromises that keep costs in check, but the Jui holds up remarkably well.

Case & Movement

Because the purple and pink Bauhinia editions share the exact same case and movement as the original Jui, I’m not going to sound too much like a broken record. So for a full deep-dive into these aspects, you can refer back to my original review. But I’ll quickly revisit the specs and highlights…

The stainless steel case still measures 39mm in diameter, 45mm lug-to-lug, and a very slim 9.9mm thick, and it remains one of the most convincingly “balanced” executions Selten has produced: a polished, concave bezel framing a flat, AR-coated sapphire crystal, horizontally brushed case sides with the mid-case tucked slightly inward for added depth, and lugs that blend satin-brushed planes with broad polished bevels before flowing cleanly into the fully polished case-back.

The 6mm signed push-pull crown is still gently recessed, protected, and genuinely easy to operate, and water resistance remains 50m (100m would’ve definitely been a crowd-pleaser), but still perfectly reasonable for a watch of this style. The only visual change on the back is the engraving: rather than referencing the 2nd anniversary, it now indicates the watch is one of 200 pieces.

Inside is the same Miyota 9039 time-only automatic, and it continues to make a lot of sense here: reliable, slim, and a big part of why the Jui wears as sleekly as it does. Selten still dresses it up with a custom rotor with the brand’s logo and gold-tone engraved name, visible through the sapphire exhibition window, and the overall presentation feels thoughtfully “finished” without pretending to be something it isn’t.

On The Wrist

On the wrist, the Jui hits a sweet spot that’s almost impossible to fault. Its 38.75mm diameter still feels just right on my 6.75″ wrist, landing in what I consider the ideal sizing zone for a watch that walks the fine line between slightly dressy and slightly sporty. The 45.25mm lug-to-lug is spot-on for a wide range of wrists, and the 9.9mm overall thickness continues to wear even slimmer, thanks to the concave bezel and the subtly sculpted caseback that helps it sink into the wrist rather than perch on top of it. Combined with Selten’s case design, these proportions make for one of the most comfortable and balanced wrist experiences the brand has delivered to date, and the Bauhinia editions don’t change that fundamental recipe at all.

What does change is how you can wear the watch. Instead of the French Epsom leather strap from the original release, the pink and purple Jui Bauhinia ship with hand-stitched FKM sailcloth-style rubber straps made by HasNoBounds, and as someone who generally prefers rubber to leather, I’m a big fan. They’re soft, flexible, and immediately comfortable, and the colors are perfect, and they suit the playful-but-refined personality of these dials better than a more formal leather would.

And then there’s the bracelet, which was released a few months after the original Jui and honestly, I think it’s absolutely worth the additional $150. It uses quick-release spring bars, and the end links integrate perfectly with the case, sitting flush and clean without awkward gaps or mismatched geometry. The build quality and finishing is exceptional for the price: the links have excellent brushed surfaces accented by crisp polished bevels that mirror the case’s own high-quality transitions. Sizing is straightforward too, with links that can be added or removed via screws, and the icing on this already delicious cake is the butterfly-style clasp with on-the-fly adjustability on both sides, giving you about 2mm of range per side. The adjustment mechanism is impressively well integrated from a design standpoint, no clunky external hardware or obvious “afterthought” engineering, but it does take a little getting used to when operating it on-wrist. Still, that’s a very small price to pay for how much it elevates the overall wearing experience, especially at such a reasonable upcharge.

Wrapping Up

The Jui Bauhinia editions feel like a strong follow-up for both collaborators, and they sit comfortably among Selten’s best work to date. You’re getting the same well-proportioned, thoughtfully finished case and the same reliable movement, but with two dials that push the concept in a brighter direction, and the bracelet option genuinely rounds out the package. At $1,250 USD, the value still holds up once you look closely at the dial work and finishing, even with today’s pricing realities.

As with the original, the only real question is whether the design language speaks to you. If you want a more conventional dial layout, stronger branding, or a seconds hand, these won’t change your mind. But if the aesthetic clicks, I think you can be confident that these Bauhinia editions will deliver in person, because none of my photographs or videos do them justice.

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The post Selten x WH&Co. Jui “Bauhinia” appeared first on RK Watch Service.

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 Tool Watch Co. had no influence over the opinions stated here.

Tool Watch Co. Lumecore Chronograph: https://toolwatchco.com/TWCO-Lumecore-Chronograph

Video

Review

I love tool watches, and I use that phrase a lot, so it’s kind of cool (and a bit hilarious) to see a micro-brand just plant their flag right in the middle of it and call themselves Tool Watch Co. The name sets the bar high. If you’re going to build your entire identity around “tool watch”, then I’m going to show up expecting clarity, practicality, and a design that looks like it has a job to do… even if that job is mostly just timing the pizza in my oven.

Tool Watch Co. was founded in 2021 by Pieter Jansen van Rensburg, and I still clearly remember when the brand first popped onto my radar with the Arctic Field: especially that somewhat unusual, spiky seconds hand that made it instantly recognizable in a sea of forgettable micro-brand watches at the time. I remember thinking it was a great-looking watch with strong value at the time, and since then they’ve filled out the catalog with releases like the AMA Diver, Rally Chronograph and more recently the Goodman GMT, keeping that same “purpose-driven” design language intact. But despite having watched the brand from the sidelines, this is actually my first hands-on experience with anything they’ve made.

And that brings us to the Lumecore Chronograph: a fully-lumed, meca-quartz chronograph priced at $295 USD, positioned as a limited-production piece. That doesn’t necessarily mean “hard to get”, because as of writing this review it’s still available through the brand.

Let’s check it out…

Case

I measured this case at 37.75mm in diameter, 46mm lug tip to lug tip, and about 12mm in overall thickness including the crystal and case-back, with a 20mm lug width. The case design also feels like it’s following the brand’s design template, and to my eye it borrows from that skin-diver era playbook: the kind of mid-century, no-nonsense case geometry you associate with watches like the Seiko 62MAS or the broader “compact diver case” lineage.

Finishing-wise, it’s exactly what you would expect it to be given the watch’s utilitarian inspiration: almost entirely brushed, with one deliberate little hit of polish: a single polished surface along the side of the bezel. It’s simple, coherent, and it makes the watch feel like it can take a few knocks without looking out of place.

Hardware and ergonomics are well considered. You get traditional chronograph pushers flanking the crown, and the crown itself sits in the middle with excellent grip that is easy to operate. I measured the crown to be 6.4mm. The bezel is a fixed tachymeter, and importantly, it’s all steel like the rest of the case: brushed on top, with black-filled markings that keep things crisp and legible.

Sitting above that is the brand’s double-domed box AR-coated K1 crystal, and yeah… I know. K1 will be a deal-breaker for a lot of people at a glance. But at $295, on a watch that’s leaning into a tool-ish, value-first identity, I actually think it makes sense. And selfishly, I love what it does to the watch: that edge distortion you get from a domed crystal is part of the charm here, and it’s the kind of visual character that’s hard to replicate convincingly with sapphire.

Flipping it over, the case-back is solid and screw-down, and the watch is rated to 30m. This is probably my only real criticism of the watch. Sure, tons of chronographs get away with 30-50m, but not all chronographs have to, and there are plenty of 100m chronographs out there that manage it without requiring screw-down pushers. So for a brand literally called Tool Watch Co., I can’t help but feel like pushing toward a higher rating, even 50-75m, would’ve been worth pursuing.

Dial

The Lumecore’s dial distills the entire point of the watch: a fully lumed surface presented in a clean, high-contrast black-and-white layout that leans hard into legibility. Up close, the dial has that familiar semi-gloss / semi-matte look you tend to get with fully lumed dials: not flat and chalky, but not quite glossy either, with a slightly “coated” texture that catches light in a soft, even way.

Hour markers are kept simple, but not monotonous. Most of the markers are circular plots, while the cardinal axes get slightly different treatment, which gives your eye some quick reference points when you’re reading the time. Around the edge, the minute track is well proportioned and easy to follow, with clear minute markers and lighter fractional ticks that handle the seconds without cluttering the dial or overpowering the rest of the layout.

The two sub-dials are straightforward – both clearly labeled with legible markings and hands that feel appropriately sized for the registers, so they read quickly without looking like they’ve been squeezed in as an afterthought. Branding is also restrained: the Tool Watch Co. logo is printed neatly under 12, while the brand and model name sits above 6.

But to me, the hands are what make this watch work. The hour and minute hands are painted entirely in black and use a skeletonized design, which sounds simple until you realize how easy it is to get wrong on a watch like this: the proportions and contrast have to be considered from the start or you end up with hands that either disappear or become overpowering. Here, I think they’ve nailed it. The proportions of all three hands feel spot-on, and the result is a watch that you can read precisely if you actually need to.

And yes, I can see someone looking at this and calling it boring, and many did when I reviewed the Sinn U50 SL. It’s essentially a black-and-white dial with minimal ornamentation. But to me, that restraint is part of the appeal. It looks intentional, it suits the watch’s tool-y character, and it delivers a dial that’s simple, attractive, and easy to live with.

Lume

Speaking of the Sinn U50 SL, that may still be the best fully lumed watch I’ve owned or reviewed: its entire dial base is made from a ceramic luminous mixture, and it charges and glows with a very even, high-intensity look. But there was one quirk that always bothered me: because the hour and minute hands are solid with a lot of surface area, when you move from light to dark you can sometimes notice a very obvious shadow on the dial where the hands were just before you entered that low-light environment.

The Lumecore avoids that by using fully skeletonized hour and minute hands, so the dial continues to glow more uniformly during that transition. The tradeoff is that skeletonized hands can get washed out against a bright dial, so they need enough thickness and black presence to stay visible, and this watch does that well. Even fully charged, the hands remain easy to pick out, and the black printed dial elements stay crisp against the bright background.

Overall, the lume is sufficiently potent, glows bright, and lasts through the night with excellent legibility. I also compared it against a few ceramic lume block-equipped watches, the Vaer C4 Tactical Field Solar, Traska Summiteer 38, and the Christopher Ward Lumière, and the Lumecore holds up very well, especially given its added surface area of lume.

Movement

It is powered by the Seiko VK64, a hybrid meca-quartz movement, and if you’ve read any of my affordable chronograph reviews, you probably already know I tend to gravitate toward this movement if you want something robust and reliable, as you would from a “tool watch”. I’m biased in favor of these movements over mechanical chronographs like the Seagull ST19, because the VK64 is just more robust, low-maintenance, and it doesn’t undermine the whole “wear it hard” premise the way a finicky mechanical chronograph can.

On a watch that’s trying to be a tool (or at least tool-adjacent), the movement choice matters, and this one feels pragmatic. If you want to experience the romanticism of a vintage chronograph architecture and the mechanical quirks of such a movement, the Seagull ST19 starts to make more sense. The VK64 also delivers on the stuff you actually interact with. You get a sweeping central chronograph hand and no ticking seconds hand, which keeps the dial experience clean and the chrono usage feeling ‘mechanical’.

On The Wrist

On my 6.75″ wrist, the Lumecore wears well. The roughly 38mm diameter and 46mm lug-to-lug keep it feeling compact and well-contained, and it sits naturally without the lugs overreaching. At around 12mm thick (including crystal and case-back), it does have a slightly slab-sided profile that comes with this skin-diver inspired case shape, but the bezel section and the height of the domed crystal add enough visual breakup that it doesn’t read as tall as the number suggests.

Weight is also very manageable, with the head at about 54g, and 63g on the included canvas-and-leather strap. And while I don’t usually expect much from straps in this price category, this one is perfectly usable: well made and comfortable enough, and I didn’t feel the need to swap it immediately. The buckle is a nice touch too, with decent finishing that doesn’t feel like generic off-the-shelf hardware.

Wrapping Up

To wrap things up, the Lumecore mostly does what it sets out to do. It’s a good-looking, very legible watch with solid build quality and finishing for the money, and at $295 it feels priced in a way that’s easy to justify if you’re drawn to the concept. The best part is that the design decisions actually support the premise: the high-contrast skeletonized hands are a smart choice on a fully lumed dial, avoiding the shadows that result on most lumed watches when transitioning from light to dark. On the wrist it has a convincingly tool-y presence, and even the included canvas/leather strap is comfortably wearable and doesn’t feel like an immediate “replace me” afterthought.

My only real criticism is the 30m water resistance, which does hold it back a bit, especially with a brand name like Tool Watch Co. That said, it’s hardly the first chronograph to ship with a weak water rating, and it won’t be the last. But I’d still like to see the brand push for a more aggressive rating in the future. Overall though, this is still a compelling chronograph: straightforward, well-executed, and easy to recommend if you’re shopping in this genre and want something that feels purposeful and won’t do too much damage to your wallet.

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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 VIIS had no influence over the opinions stated here.

VIIS Flieger GMT 42 Velebit: https://viiswatch.com/en/collections/all/products/flieger-gmt-42-velebit

Video

Review

Flieger watches are one of those genres where the design constraints are the point. The classic pilot-watch codes are intentionally uniform: big Arabic numerals, stark minute track, high contrast, and zero fuss… so they can all start to blur together if you’ve handled enough of them. And when you’re a new micro-brand trying to enter that space, you’re not just competing with other newcomers; you’re also stepping onto home turf occupied by brands with real legacy or credibility in the category, like Stowa, Laco, Hanhart, and plenty of other staples from the area that have been iterating on this template for decades.

That’s the backdrop for VIIS, a young brand founded by Josip Kožul and his partner Leonie, with VIIS describing 2024 as the moment the brand was born out of a shared love for aviation. And while it’s easy to be skeptical of yet another flieger-shaped object entering this crowded lane, there are real advantages to being a new player in an old game. You can be more flexible, react faster to feedback, and try to evolve the formula without carrying the baggage (or the expectations) that come with a historic name on the dial.

Today we’ll be taking a look at the VIIS Flieger GMT 42 Velebit, which is priced at $698 USD. If you’re buying from the US, VIIS notes that additional import fees/taxes may apply so it is reasonable to think of this watch as roughly ~$770 delivered assuming the current 10% tariff policy. One last point worth clarifying up front: VIIS states their watches are “designed, manufactured and inspected” in Germany. At the same time, the Flieger GMT 42 uses the Japanese Miyota 9075, so the most grounded way to interpret that is the watch is designed, assembled, and quality controlled in Germany, with globally sourced components, some of which may indeed be made in or around Pforzheim, rather than implying every component is German-made.

Let’s check it out!

Case

The Velebit’s case feels very much in line with what you’d expect from a flieger, both in sizing and in overall execution. I measured it at 41.75mm in diameter, 48.6mm lug tip to lug tip, and 13mm in overall thickness. That thickness figure includes a fairly prominent ~1.5-2mm curved sapphire crystal, and the watch has a 20mm lug width, which makes strap pairing straightforward.

The case is entirely stainless steel and the finishing is appropriately utilitarian. It’s almost all brushed, with the one real visual break being a polished flank along the side of the bezel that adds a bit of contrast. The lugs, unlike the flatter, more slab-like lugs you often associate with traditional flieger designs, curve down quite a bit. This helps with ergonomics and does a good job of making the watch sit on the wrist with a bit more stability.

The 13mm thickness is influenced by the curved sapphire, and I generally prefer a flat crystal on a watch like this. Between the curved crystal, the 5.6mm signed screw-down crown, and the screw-in case-back, VIIS is able to deliver 100m of water resistance, which is unusual for a flieger-style watch, and a meaningful usability upgrade.

The crystal has internal anti-reflective coating, but the curvature combined with the lack of external AR means it can pick up reflections pretty easily. Overall, the case design itself is fairly generic and doesn’t really try to reinvent the flieger silhouette (which I would’ve liked to see), but it’s well executed, wears comfortably for its size, and the water resistance is reassuring.

Dial

The Velebit’s dial is where VIIS most clearly tries to balance recognizably flieger with not a straight reissue. The fundamentals are all here: a matte black base, high-contrast printing, and the familiar triangle at 12, but the layout is best understood as Type B-inspired rather than a strict reissue. Classic Type B dials prioritize the minute scale (often an outer 5-55 ring) with hours taking a secondary role, but VIIS keeps their focus on the hours while in their execution.

Instead of pushing minute numerals to the outermost ring, VIIS uses a bold internal orange minute track marked 05 through 60, which gives the dial a different focal point compared to a Type B flieger. I personally love the way the orange elements play together here: the orange minute hand, the orange GMT accents, and that inner orange ring create a cohesive theme without making the watch feel loud. Around that, you still get oversized Arabic hour numerals and rectangular hour plots, plus a clean logo and word-mark under 12.

The GMT function is integrated in a way I really appreciate: the 24-hour reference is kept to the chapter ring, so the dial stays cleaner than many GMTs in this format. It does add information density, but it avoids the clutter that can come with busy GMT dials. The hands help a lot too: the proportions are excellent, and the skeletonization feels intentional, keeping the hands from obstructing the inner minute ring. The GMT hand is distinct with its arrow tip and orange detailing, and the seconds hand stays thin enough to remain in the background, but with enough contrast to stay visible.

There are also some quieter design choices that stood out to me. The “4” uses a more stylized, distinctive form, and what’s nice is that this typeface is applied consistently across the dial elements rather than mixing fonts; the date wheel is the one exception. One area for improvement is dial QC: under a loupe and in macro shots I noticed some tiny stray paint particles on the dial. To be fair, I see this quite often with pad-printed dials, and it isn’t visible in normal wear, but it’s something they could improve upon.

Lume

Lume on the Velebit is applied generously from a design standpoint. A lot of the pad-printed dial elements are lumed, all four hands are lumed (which is always a good decision on a functional watch), and the branding is handled in a way you don’t see that often: the VIIS logo and brand name are lumed as well. From what I can tell, the text at 6 o’clock also picks up some lume, though it’s noticeably fainter than the rest.

Performance follows a fairly typical hierarchy. The large numerals and their rectangular hour markers are lumed, but the application style and limited surface area mean there simply isn’t a huge volume of lume material there, so those elements tend to fade sooner than the hands.

The hands carry most of the nighttime legibility: the hour, minute, and GMT hands have large lume-filled sections that glow brighter and last longer, while the seconds hand is fully lumed along its length and holds up reasonably well too.

Overall, this isn’t “flashlight” levels of lume with exceptional brightness and longevity, but it remains legible well into the night. Even once the numerals start to drop off, reading the time is still straightforward because the hands stay clearly defined. Against the Buser Freres GSTP 38 (which has a similar lume layout) and a Traska Summiteer 38 (which is in a similar price range, with stronger lume blocks), the VIIS isn’t the outright winner, but it holds up well.

Movement

The Velebit is powered by the Miyota 9075, a true GMT caliber from the Citizen Group and one of the most consequential movement releases the micro-brand space has seen in the last few years. It sits within Miyota’s 9 series of automatic calibers, generally known for being robust and relatively slim, which makes it an easy fit for watches that want genuine travel functionality without ballooning in thickness or price. And importantly, it’s a true GMT: you get an independently jumping local hour hand, so you can move the hour hand in one-hour increments without affecting the minutes or the GMT/reference time.

What’s interesting here is that while the 9075 has become almost a default “upgrade move” for micro-brands, the flieger world hasn’t embraced it to the same degree. Part of that is probably tradition: pilot watches often lean Swiss or German by default, and part of it is simply that true GMT options are limited if you want to stay off-the-shelf. The most visible alternative in the broader market is the Kenissi true GMT architecture, but that’s not a movement you can just order as a small brand, and when you see it deployed it tends to be in watches living in the $4k–$6k range (think certain Fortis and Tudor references).

So the result is that many of the more established German flieger brands that do offer GMTs often do so with caller-style movements. Laco’s Pilot Frankfurt GMT being a good example, and Hanhart has also taken that more conventional route. Against that landscape, VIIS’ willingness to spec a Japanese true GMT is actually a meaningful differentiator, and in my view, an advantage: you get functionality that matters, without forcing the watch into a very different price bracket.

On paper, Miyota rates the 9075 at -10 to +30 seconds per day, with a 42-hour power reserve, running at 28,800 vph (4 Hz), and it includes hacking seconds. On this unit, I measured it at +8 spd, which is good and frankly about what you typically see from a movement in this category.

On The Wrist

In terms of sizing, this Flieger GMT doesn’t stray far from the traditional mold. Fliegers have historically been large watches: some of the original examples were 55mm and intended to be worn over a pilot’s jacket. But over time they’ve come down in size to match modern preferences, and even brands like IWC and Laco have embraced smaller flieger designs. The Velebit lands in that modern middle ground: not huge by historical standards, but still meaningfully large by everyday-wear standards.

The watch measures just under 42mm in diameter with a 48.6mm lug-to-lug, and the narrow bezel makes it wear visually larger than the numbers suggest. On my 6.75″ wrist, it fits without overhang, but it still looks like a big watch, very much in line with flieger design principles, though I can see why some buyers might prefer smaller alternatives. Thickness is 13mm, and a lot of that comes from the curved crystal; I would’ve preferred a flat crystal, but it isn’t a deal breaker.

The included leather strap is good quality and broke in nicely. Weight is 68g head-only and 82g with strap and buckle, and I appreciate that VIIS opted for a more modern, non-generic buckle that feels intentionally designed rather than pulled from a parts catalog.

Wrapping Up

Overall, the VIIS Flieger GMT 42 is a genuinely interesting release. It’s a German-built flieger concept paired with a Japanese true GMT movement, and that combination alone makes it stand out in a category that often defaults to familiar formulas. The watch retains plenty of classic flieger DNA, but it also takes some creative liberties on the dial and leans into more modern choices: most obviously with a 42mm case that nods to contemporary preferences without chasing the current “Goldilocks” 39-40mm sweet spot.

It also brings some tangible spec advantages to the table. The curved crystal and screw-down case-back give it a more modern, slightly more robust personality, and the 100m water resistance is a notable achievement in this space, especially when you consider that a brand like Laco typically offers half that on their fliegers. Add in the generous and engaging lume design (even if it isn’t the absolute best performer), and you end up with a watch that feels respectful of the flieger design ethos without being just another design reissue.

So if your goal is a flieger with a “true” GMT, good usability upgrades, and enough of the original pilot-watch template to still feel authentic, without being a pure vintage reissue, the Flieger GMT 42 makes a strong, coherent case for itself.

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ROLDORF & CO. ROLDORF & CO.

Traditions & Transitions:

Making Horology Mainstream

Visitors to British Columbia, Canada, are said to frequent Gastown, touted as one of Vancouver’s most unique and vibrant neighborhoods, brimming with an eclectic mix of shops, historic architecture, dining options, and cobblestone streets.

On West Cordova Street in Gastown is where more and more visitors are discovering Roldorf & Co., Independent Watchmakers. The interior design of the shop includes ex-posed brick walls (a rarity in Canada) the original floors, and a charming, cozy seating area. Even more striking, and ahead of its time, is the layout of the shop. Upon entering, customers and visitors are invited to make a choice. Go to the front desk, (which, as an aside, is made from the base of an industrial lathe), or go to a workbench, which is just as close to the front door, and where you’re cer- tain to find one of the shop’s three watch- makers. In fact, all of the workbenches at Roldorf & Co., are in the center of the shop.

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ROLDORF & CO. ROLDORF & CO.

The Bremont Broadsword Recon.

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ROLDORF & CO. ROLDORF & CO.

Just How Endangered Is Watchmaking?

Watchmaking isn’t likely top of mind for most people and is, in many ways, quite misunderstood. The skills and knowledge required are taught , being handed down from one generation to the next. We rely on these skills even here in Canada, yet there is no real Government funding for it, or a truly world class place here to learn those skills.

The interesting part about this is that watchmaking is an applied science. Skills learned for it are highly transferable into the high tech sector, if the knowledge and attained skills are sound. With that in mind, classical skills can be a contributing factor in the ability to innovate in that and other industries, which in itself is important.

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