Swarms of resellers descended on Swatch stores across the UK this morning, triggering chaotic scenes that police described as ‘near riotous’. The target: a limited-edition run of the brand’s MoonSwatch collection, ostensibly priced at £225 but already appearing on secondary markets for more than £1,000.
Sources within the Metropolitan Police confirm that officers were called to the Swatch flagship in London’s Oxford Street after crowds swelled past 300, blocking traffic and spilling into neighbouring shops. ‘It was a feeding frenzy,’ one officer told me. ‘These people weren’t collectors. They were scalpers. They had cash, they had burner phones, and they knew exactly what they were doing.’
This is not a story about watch enthusiasts. This is a story about an industry that has learned to weaponise scarcity. Swatch, a company that built its reputation on affordable, cheerful timepieces, has in recent years embraced the playbook of its luxury cousin Omega. Limited drops, co-branded hype, and a studied ignorance of where the product ends up.
Documents obtained by this newsroom show that internal Swatch discussions as early as March flagged the risk of resale abuse. One email from a senior marketing executive reads, ‘We know the MoonSwatch will attract flippers. But the press coverage of the queues is worth the hassle.’ That calculation, made in a sterile boardroom, has now played out on the streets of London. The hassle became a public disorder event.
The secondary market speaks loudly. I spent an hour on eBay and specialised watch forums this morning. The same MoonSwatch that Swatch sells for £225 is listed at £1,200, £1,500, even £2,000 for the ‘Mission to Mars’ variant. Sellers use coded language: ‘BNIB’, ‘unworn’, ‘limited to one per customer’. One seller, who goes by the handle ‘FlipKing2024’, boasted to me in a direct message, ‘I had 12 people in the queue for me. Paid them £50 each. Profit is clean.’
Swatch’s official response is predictable. They claim to have introduced purchase limits and ID checks. But ask any of the genuine collectors who stood in line for hours only to find the shelves empty. They will tell you the checks are perfunctory. A friend who queued at the Swatch store in Covent Garden said store staff barely glanced at identification. ‘They just wanted to move the line. The resellers were handing stacks of cash and walking out with bags full.’
This is not an isolated phenomenon. It is a pattern across the watch industry. Rolex, Audemars Piguet, Patek Philippe all manufacture artificial scarcity to drive desire. Swatch, by partnering with Omega on the MoonSwatch, has joined the game. But the stakes are lower because the prices are lower. That makes it a volume business for flippers. A single Rolex Daytona flip might net £10,000, but you need capital and connections. A MoonSwatch flip costs £225. Anyone with a bit of cash and a few hours can play.
The economic logic is perverse. Swatch could increase production. They could release the watches online with randomised allocation. They could work with secondary market platforms to enforce price caps. They do none of this. Because the chaos drives demand. The headlines of fights outside stores are free advertising. And the resale prices, however eye-watering, validate the brand’s aura.
But there is a toll. The Met Police confirm they are reviewing the events of this morning and may charge several individuals with public order offences. Swatch stores in Manchester and Birmingham reported similar, if less intense, scenes. For the genuine enthusiast, the one who simply wanted a watch to wear, the message is clear: if you are not a reseller, you are a sucker.
I have covered corporate hype machines for two decades. From sneakers to concert tickets to wristwatches, the story is always the same. A company creates a product. It limits supply. It watches the frenzy. It counts the profits while the system breaks down around it. Swatch is not innocent. They saw this coming. They let it happen. And they will do it again.
As I write this, the online listings are still multiplying. The flippers are making their margins. And somewhere, a Swatch executive is high-fiving their colleagues over the morning’s press coverage. The watch reselling machine grinds on. Because chaos, it turns out, is a very good business.
