The Big Enuff GB151 holds a special place, not just for its bold design, but because it’s where it all began for swatches in my collection. Many years ago, this was the first Swatch that pulled me in. I had just bought the Combo Back Stage GN120, and something about the packaging, the feel, the whole vibe cracked open a space I didn’t know existed. The collector's itch kicked in.

This model blends cheeky and classic: a silver dial with oversized “SIX,” a translucent case, and a strap featuring a flirtatious pin-up girl, a tongue-in-cheek nod to mid, century Americana, filtered through 1993’s pop lens. It doesn’t just tell time, it remembers something. Estimated value: $85USD but for me, this one’s sort of priceless.

There’s something curious about a watch like this: a Swatch, mass-produced yet scarce, branded with the cool precision of Deutsche Bank. The DBS101 wasn’t made to be worn so much as it was to be given, a corporate gift, a token gesture in a system that counts time in quarters and bonuses. It’s a full-sized Scuba 200, clear plastic case, deep blue dial, date window at 3 o’clock, and a unidirectional bezel that clicks even when no one’s listening. Water-resistant to 200 meters, though it likely never left the boardroom. It asks no questions but still marks every second—perfectly indifferent. Collectible? Maybe. Meaningful? Only if you decide it is. Estimated value: $90 USD.

Why do we collect these things? The Sea Traffic GO101, released in 1994, doesn’t have answers, just bright orange plastic, a dial dressed like a sea map, and a strap covered in cheerful nautical nonsense. It pairs Roman numerals with Arabic digits as if consistency were optional, although in watch talk that is something that resembles california dials. It throws in purple, green, and neon orange because... why not? It's light, loud, and ultimately pointless—like most beautiful things. I will estimate its potential value in 50 USD.

What does it mean to carry time on your wrist, wrapped in transparent plastic and metallic orange optimism? The Swatch Hot Hot Hot GK423 doesn’t pretend to answer, but it invites the question. Released in 2001, it features a translucent 34 mm case, as most of the swatches in my collection. A rich orange sunburst dial with golden hands and a date window that gently reminds you: today exists. A watch that doesn’t ask to be collected, but noticed. Estimated value: 75 USD, though its real worth might lie in the conversations it quietly starts. 

In a world boxed by routine, the Avantage GK277 bursts out looking for serve and volley. Designed in 1998, this watch dresses time in the bright yellow fuzzy logic of a tennis ball: the dial’s fluorescent pattern is pure curiosity when noticed. Its transparent case cradles a neon yellow face and a fuzzy leather-stripe strap that screams tennis. There are no numerals, just white hands punctuating every moment, as if time itself could be aced. It’s sporty, surreal, and oddly poetic—playing tennis with meaning instead of the ball. Estimated value: 65 USD, though what truly counts is the rally it sparks, not the price. 

Before Swatch streamlined soul out of its automatics with the sealed, distant System 51, there was the Blue Matic SAN100, thoughtful, open, and built with mechanical honesty. Its heart, an ETA 2840, is fully visible, ticking away without apology. No cover plates, no mystery. Just gears doing their job in plain sight.

I once had three of these. One vanished into time or a drawer, either way, I have two left, and both still tick with more presence than any modern automatic I’ve owned. The translucent blue case and skeletonized dial don’t shout. They invite. Sized like the classic Gent line about 36.5mm, it wears light, balanced, and far more considered than the bloated cases that came later. This was Swatch showing that mechanical didn’t have to mean flashy—it could mean intimate. Estimated value: 99 USD.

Swatch x Eduardo Arroyo - Boxing Kangaroo, 1996 GN163. The Boxing Kangaroo GN163 stands out not just in my lineup, but in Swatch’s history—an artist special where the dial punches back. Designed by the Spanish painter Eduardo Arroyo, it places a kangaroo in boxing gloves at the dial’s center, and even uses the gloves themselves to mark the hours and minutes. 

In the swirl of 90s color, it uses red, yellow, and blue in bold contrast—fun, theatrical, and unapologetically expressive. It’s limited in the sense that it was produced for the Artist Box 1 series, so you won’t see it everywhere. I’d estimate this well-kept example might fetch around 100 USD.

Gaultier does not own the marinier. The Just Paul GE270 may nod to the striped sailor shirts of Paris runways, but its deeper thread runs further out—to the looms of Brittany, to the French naval reforms of the 19th century, to a time when stripes weren’t fashion, but regulation. Worn by sailors to be visible if washed overboard, the marinier became a uniform of both safety and simplicity. Later, Coco Chanel picked it up for her 1917 seaside line. And yes, Jean-Paul Gaultier made it iconic. But Swatch? Swatch did what Swatch does best, it absorbed the code and twisted it slightly sideways.

Just Paul is all crisp blue-and-white striping, like a summer postcard folded into 34mm of plastic. The dial is plain but surrounded by conversation, and the strap does the real talking. It doesn’t scream fashion, it just suggests identity, borrowed and playful. A wearable fragment of design history, without the pretension of ownership. Estimated value: $70 USD, and the strap is intact and unfaded.

Animal Wheel GZ120 designed by Swiss artist Not Vital for the 700th anniversary of the Swiss Confederation, the Animal Wheel doesn’t try to be precise. It was never meant to. At its core is a rotating disc divided into four segments, turning twice per day—not to tell you the exact time, but to give you a sense of it. It’s not a sundial, but it resembles one in intent: a reminder that knowing roughly when is often enough.

The absence of a minute hand, of numerals, of anything urgent, is not an oversight—it’s a choice. A way of saying: time is as life—imprecise, and hard enough without having to measure every second of it. In this piece, Swatch gave space to stillness. There’s one hand, four quadrants, and a slow rhythm that echoes something older than digital timekeeping. It’s honest in its limitations, and for that, quietly radical.

Estimated value: $120 USD

I bought this puppy in Hamburg. In Main street, looking at tissot's and at that moment the spanish Festinas. I found this one because of the formal design and the orange second hand. I always loved the orange second hand. This SUJM700 has the style of the german 60s and 70s style that originated that trend, that give those rigid designs a more sporty look. 

I believe that this was part of the design that yielded of the classical pattern, although holding much to it, there were versions of watches having this orange second hand, or having orange accents. I guess attracting a younger crowd. I sold it to the younger crowd a few years back.  

I picked this one up in Europe, thinking it’d be my lift pass companion on the icy slopes of Nordrhein-Westfalen. I had the gear, I had the snow, I even had a few solid runs. What I didn’t have? The watch on my wrist. So much for wearable tech.

In the end, I gave it to my sister. It suits her. The design has that late-2000s sport vibe, flirting with football aesthetics and pretending to be more high-tech than it actually is. It felt like Swatch’s delayed response to the Japanese brands that had been doing this for a decade already.

Kind of like when you see a cool new feature on a Samsung and think, give it two years — Apple will do the same thing, call it the best iphone yet, and I’ll pay twice the price with a straight face.

This Swatch had that energy: delayed innovation, clean packaging, mildly disappointing execution. Still, it looked cool. Did absolutely nothing for me, but looked cool.

This one reminded me of Picasso — if he had done a collab with a children’s cereal box in the 70s, promoting a James Bond movie. The card in the dial made no sense, but the watch was red. I like red. So I figured: must be for me. It is a lovely 1991 design. 

Then I looked again. The red felt… pinkish? Too glossy? Too something. It started to read more glitter lip gloss than bold primary color. So, I handed it off to my sister.

I have a red-on-red Nixon Time Teller P that pulled the look off without hesitation. That one stayed. This one blinked first.

This one intrigued me, as it did to many. Was it a clever way to own a plastic Omega, or a reminder that maybe it’s better to save for the real Moonwatch? I enjoyed wearing it, no question. It’s just as legible as its Speedmaster ancestor, but unapologetically plasticky. “Bioceramic” sounds high-tech, but it really means plastic and you feel it every time  you see it on your wrist.

Truth is, I’ve never loved the original Speedmaster enough to commit to the price tag. This? This was accessible. And fun in that Swatch kind of way. I picked it up in Pennsylvania, in that monstrous mall that feels like three malls stitched together. The Swatch store was located on the deep end, like the places where you’d buy lafufus.

And now? I find myself wanting Mars. Or maybe Jupiter.

SUON109 caught my attention because of the colors — red and blue are personal favorites. I picked it up while in Europe. The tartan pattern reminded me of all those fancy stores in Scotland selling expensive wool cloth, with designs that felt both traditional and aggressively patterned.

It also reminded me of a moment: a friend’s mother pulling several bottles of whisky out of her cabinet, offering them like tea. Since then, I’ve only bought single malts.

I eventually sold the watch to someone at the office who liked it more than I did at that moment. It became his favorite. The whisky brand still warms me up from time to time.

I sort of like Hirst — conceptually, at least. When I saw he had a limited edition Swatch, I jumped on it. I was aiming for the 34mm version, which made more sense to me wrist size-wise. But, like most drops these days, it sold out in seconds.

So I got this version instead. It is also limited, and pretty with its deconstructed Mickey. Definitely a conversation piece. Too big though. I sold it.

The design is by Tin-Tin, a tattoo artist known for Japanese-inspired work. Swatch printed it across the case, strap, and dial — koi fish and waves and all. One of three in the series (Draconem, Fired Snake, Waved Koi), all in the oversized New Gent format.

Too colorful to ignore, too themed to wear often. But it worked, and this is probably the closest I’ll ever come to having something like a tattoo. Plus I love Koi fish... but will never get into that rabbit hole of expensiveness.  

I like The Simpsons. I like Christmas. Naturally, I bought the watch.

Over the years, I’ve passed on some questionable decisions that aged surprisingly well while collecting stuff, a newly released Seiko Giugiaro “Alien,” some old Rolexes and Omegas,  some advice about Bitcoin, you know the type. So when Swatch started printing Bart onto swatches, I figured, why not? I grabbed a couple.

That said, these were the last two Swatches I bought, and lately they feel less like design statements and more like overpriced plastic. I almost went for the Homer maxi, but it’s basically a giant banana, and I’m out of walls. At this point, I’m not sure if I’m collecting watches or just building an elaborate excuse to avoid long-term financial planning.

As Warren Buffett (sort of) says: keep buying cute stuff you don’t need, and you’ll get to work forever. Merry Christmas. 

Estimated Value 70 USD.

I got this one because it's 34mm and sort of interesting. Bart’s flying around like a sweet kid with a slingshot, against a sky-blue strap that looks like the quintessential intro color, it actually feels well.

Back when I started watching The Simpsons (decades ago now), I loved Bart’s chaos. These days, I feel more like Homer: fat, confused, sort of lucky, and occasionally wise by accident. I’d trade most of my thoughts for his level of peace.

What I really wanted was a 34mm yellow watch with Homer eating a donut on the dial. Too much to ask? Apparently. “Get the Maxi,” they said. Those bastards. 

Estimated Value 70 USD