I’ve spent most of my time in this hobby sticking to tool watches. Divers, field watches, the usual rotation. There’s comfort in that category, and I know exactly what I like there, so it’s easy to stay put. Over time though, it starts to feel a bit narrow, like I’m just cycling through different versions of the same idea. I still enjoy that side of collecting, but it doesn’t really challenge how I think about watches anymore.
Mr Jones Watches has always been outside of that. I’d see their pieces over the years and think they looked fun, but never seriously considered spending time with one. That changed when I had the opportunity to check out the Beam me Up! Mechanical. It felt different from anything I’ve had on the wrist before, and I wasn’t entirely sure how it would land for me. This one has been a ton of fun to handle over the past few weeks, so let’s take a closer look.
Brand Background
Before spending time with this, I had a pretty surface-level understanding of what Mr Jones Watches actually was. I knew the designs leaned heavily into illustration and storytelling, but I hadn’t really looked into how the brand came together.
It turns out it started back in 2007 with Crispin Jones working out of London, initially building these pieces on his own with a clear focus on doing something different. The dial wasn’t treated like a traditional layout at all, but more like a space to tell a story or land a visual idea, sometimes, hilariously, at the expense of straightforward timekeeping. As things grew, he brought in other artists and creatives, which explains why the catalog feels so varied without losing its identity.
Even now, the brand still operates independently out of London, with stuff handled in-house from design through assembly. That part stood out to me especially given how unconventional the end product feels.
Dial and Timekeeping
The first thing that pulled me into this watch, of course, was the dial, which was designed by French illustrator Xavier Broche. It leans fully into this absurd little scene of a UFO hovering over a farm, mid-abduction, with a pig caught in the beam. It sounds ridiculous on paper, and in person it doesn’t really try to tone that down. The whole thing plays out like a looping animation on your wrist.
The colors do a lot of the heavy lifting, too. The blues and turquoise tones have a surprising amount of depth, especially with the way the gradients are handled, and they contrast really well against that pinkish tone of the beam coming down from the UFO. It gives the dial a bit more presence than you’d expect from something this playful. There’s also a subtle sense of texture to it that keeps it from feeling flat, and knowing these are finished by hand in London adds a layer of character that comes through once you spend time with it.
Naturally, the first hurdle is figuring out how to actually read the time. It’s not immediately obvious, and there’s a short adjustment period where you’re just staring at it trying to make sense of what’s going on. Once it clicks, it’s surprisingly intuitive. The beam coming down from the UFO tracks the minutes, while the pig moving around the dial marks the hours. It’s unconventional, but not in a way that feels frustrating after a bit of use.
What stood out to me is that the design isn’t trying to compete with traditional notions of legibility in time telling. It leans into the idea that this is more about interaction than precision. You’re not going to hack the seconds perfectly with your atomic clock app. You end up engaging with it differently, almost slowing down to read it, and that changes the experience. It’s playful, a little impractical, and very deliberate about both of those things.
Case and Comfort On The Wrist
Once you get past the dial, the case itself is actually pretty restrained, which helps balance out everything happening up top. It’s made from 316L stainless steel with a lot of polished surfaces. The finishing gives it enough versatility that it doesn’t feel out of place in more casual settings, even with how playful the dial is.
On the wrist, it comes in at 40mm across, just under 50mm lug to lug, and about 11.6mm thick. It wears with a bit more presence than I expected, mostly due to those longer, more slender lugs that stretch things out visually. That said, it never felt awkward. The case has a nice, gentle curve, and once it’s on, it settles in comfortably. Water resistance is rated at 5 ATM, which felt appropriate for something like this. I never found myself second-guessing daily wear, but it’s also not something I’d treat like a dedicated tool watch.
Flipping it over, you get a display caseback with a small pig graphic layered into the design, which ties back nicely to the dial without overdoing it. Through that, you can see the Sellita SW200 automatic inside. It’s a familiar movement, and in this context, it makes sense. You’re not really here for movement novelty, but it’s reliable, easy to live with, and fits the overall experience of the watch.
Strap and Wear
I wore this on the included 18mm dark Havana leather strap, and it ended up being a bigger part of the experience than I expected. It’s sourced from J&FJ Baker, and you can feel that right away. There’s a softness to it that makes it comfortable from the start, and over time it just settles in even more.
The details are handled with restraint. The brown stitching is subtle, the underside uses a lighter tone that contrasts gently against the top, and the branding is there without drawing too much attention to itself. Remember—I’m slowly becoming more leather curious and this strap definitely pushed that.
I did catch myself wondering how it would feel on something like a NATO, just to lean further into the casual/absurdity side of the watch. I think it could work, but the leather does a good job of grounding the whole thing and keeping it from tipping too far into novelty.
It’s So Much Fun
Spending time with this made me realize pretty quickly that it sits outside the usual framework I use to evaluate watches. It’s not trying to deliver precision in the way a tool watch does, and it’s not aiming for traditional elegance either. It’s doing something else entirely, and that becomes clear the longer you wear it.
For me, the case plays a supporting role while the dial carries almost all of the identity. That balance works well, even if some of the design choices feel a little unconventional at times. What kept me coming back to it was how different the interaction feels. You’re not only glancing down for the time and moving on. You actually engage with it, even if just for a second longer than usual.
At $950, I wouldn’t slot this in as a daily wear piece alongside the rest of my collection, but that’s also not really the point. This is the kind of watch I’d reach for when I want something that breaks the routine a bit. Something that reminds me there’s more to this hobby than specs, heritage, or trying to optimize every category in a collection.
After a few weeks with it, that initial uncertainty I had going in never fully went away, but it shifted into something more interesting. I still don’t look at this the same way I do the rest of my watches, and I think that’s exactly why it worked for me. I get it now. And I’m a fan.
Co-Founder & Senior Editor
Michael Peñate is an American writer, photographer, and podcaster based in Seattle, Washington. His work typically focuses on the passage of time and the tools we use to connect with that very journey. From aviation to music and travel, his interests span a multitude of disciplines that often intersect with the world of watches – and the obsessive culture behind collecting them.