Toledano & Chan: The Brutalist Watch Brand That Came Out of Nowhere

If you haven't heard of Toledano & Chan yet, you're about to discover one of the most genuinely interesting watch brands to emerge in recent years. This isn't another heritage revival or Submariner homage - it's two people with a very specific vision making watches that look like nothing else on the market. Here's the full story.

The brand was founded in 2021 by Phil Toledano and Alfred Chan. Here's the mad part: they've never actually met in person. Phil is a New York-based conceptual artist and photographer who became known in the watch world through his Instagram account @misterenthusiast, where he'd been championing weird, wonderful, shaped-case watches from the 1970s long before that aesthetic became trendy. Alfred Chan is a Hong Kong-based watch designer with over a decade of experience in the industry. They connected through Instagram, bonded over a shared obsession with Brutalist architecture and 70s watch design, and started collaborating remotely.

What came out of that collaboration is remarkable. The watches are genuinely different - not "different" in the marketing sense where something is basically the same as everything else but with a slightly unusual dial colour. Actually different.

The design inspiration is very specific: the windows on the Marcel Breuer building at 945 Madison Avenue in New York. This is the former Whitney Museum, now owned by Sotheby's, and it's a textbook example of Brutalist architecture - austere, top-heavy, with these distinctive trapezoidal windows punctuating the facade. If you look at a Toledano & Chan watch next to photos of those windows, the connection is unmistakable. 

The first release was the B/1 in 2024. It dropped and immediately became one of the most talked-about watches of the year. Limited to 175 pieces at $4,000, it sold out almost immediately. Here's what made it special:

The case is 33.5mm wide with an angled profile that slopes from 10.4mm to 9.1mm thick. That asymmetry isn't just for show - it's directly lifted from the Breuer building windows. The whole thing is made from 904L stainless steel, the same grade Rolex uses, which is harder to machine but more corrosion resistant.

The dial is lapis lazuli with nothing on it. No logo, no indices, no numerals. Just the stone and two angular dauphine hands. It's bold in a way that most brands would never attempt because it requires the design to carry itself completely.

The bracelet is where things get really interesting. This isn't just an integrated bracelet - it's what Phil calls a "continuous concept design." Every single one of the 25 links is different in width, thickness, or angle. The beveled edge of the case continues uninterrupted through the entire length of the bracelet. The whole thing reads as one sculptural object rather than a watch head attached to a strap. The taper is dramatic and the way the links lock together is genuinely impressive engineering.

It's a destro watch - crown on the left side - which is unusual and adds to the off-kilter aesthetic.

Inside is a Swiss-made Sellita SW100 automatic with 42 hours of power reserve. Nothing exotic, but reliable and serviceable. The watches are manufactured in China, which Phil has been completely transparent about. The finishing and quality control are what matter, not the country of origin.

And then there's the packaging. The watch comes in a hand-made concrete box that echoes the shape of the watch itself. Because of course it does. Every detail is considered.

The B/1.2 followed and took things further. The dial switched to Tahitian mother of pearl - not the cheap white stuff, the good iridescent material that shifts colour as it catches light. But the real development was the crystal: they wedged the sapphire to match the sloped case, creating subtle refractions as the hands pass through different zones. It's a small detail that shows they're not just iterating, they're evolving.

The B/1.2 came in at around £4,400 / $5,700-5,850 depending on location, limited to 200 pieces. Still competitive given the materials and the level of design work involved.

Then things got really wild with the B/1M - the meteorite version. The case, dial, lugs, and even the buckle are all carved from the Muonionalusta meteorite, which hit Earth about a million years ago and was first discovered in Sweden in 1906. The material has these distinctive Widmanstätten patterns - striations that you literally cannot replicate because they only form during the million-year cooling process as a meteorite travels through space.

The B/1M is smaller at 32mm, comes on a grey ostrich leg strap, and will be produced in only 30 examples. Each one will look different because of how the meteorite patterns vary throughout the material. This is the kind of thing that sounds like marketing nonsense until you realise they've actually done it - carved an entire watch case from space rock.

The latest release is the B/1.3r, which represents another step up. The case is now titanium (so lighter), sized down to 32mm (so more wearable), and the dial is solid 18 carat gold with a custom "ripple" texture inspired by water patterns. They specifically moved away from stone dials because, as Phil put it, "stone dials have become a commodity" after the trend exploded. Rather than picking something out of a catalogue, they invented something new. The B/1.3r retails for $10,200 - different territory, but the degree of difficulty has increased with each release.

What makes Toledano & Chan work is the combination of genuine design conviction and complete transparency. Phil doesn't pretend they invented Brutalism or that they're the first people to notice 70s watches were interesting. He openly acknowledges the Rolex King Midas connection, the Piaget influence, the Gérald Genta DNA. But he also points out that if the King Midas had continued evolving for 50 years, it might have ended up somewhere like this. They're not copying - they're extrapolating.

The pricing has been notably honest too. The original B/1 at $4,000 for a limited edition watch with a lapis lazuli dial, 904L steel, and that level of design work was genuinely good value. One-off pieces have hammered at auction for well into five figures - that Sotheby's piece unique with carbon fibre infused with copper went for $24,000 - but the production pieces remain accessible relative to what you're getting.

There's also something refreshing about the way they talk about their work. No heritage mythology, no fake backstory, no pretending to be something they're not. Two guys who love architecture and watches decided to make something together without ever meeting in person. That's a 21st century origin story and they own it completely.

If there are criticisms, the destro crown position isn't for everyone, the lack of any dial markings makes time-telling slightly slower than a conventional watch, and the dramatically tapered bracelet means sizing is less forgiving. These are consequences of the design choices, not mistakes - but they do mean this isn't a watch for people who want something safe.

The watches that have sold on the secondary market are trading above retail, which tells you something about demand versus supply. If you want one, you basically need to be ready when they drop because they don't hang around.

What Toledano & Chan represents is what independent watchmaking should be - people with a clear vision making things that couldn't exist anywhere else. They're not trying to compete with Rolex on Rolex's terms. They're not trying to be the affordable alternative to anything. They're making Brutalist architecture for your wrist and backing it up with materials and craftsmanship that justify the concept.

In a market drowning in safe reissues and iterative refinements, that's worth paying attention to.