The expected queue was not only stationary, it curdled. What began as a clumpy line of devout consumers looking for salvation in a plastic timepiece quickly dissolved into what was reported as a “scuffle”, before the doors even opened

Outside Ion Orchard, along Paterson Road, the rain was no deterrent

At 7.30 this morning, the sky looked ominous—angrily bleak. By the time we arrived at Ion Orchard at 8.50, it started to rain and then pour. The sodden queue had, as with the launch of the Blancpain X Swatch collab in 2023, formed outside the entrance where Bacha Coffee is. There was no sign that the Audemars Piguet X Swatch fans were deterred by bad weather or by the line. On our way there, we read on the MRT train a report by The Straits Times that a “scuffle” had broken out as early as 4.30pm yesterday. The lead up to the launch shows, again, that people are willing to sacrifice comfort and peace to prove that the hype economy is alive, well, and just as volatile as ever. There was no indication that this wait bore a smidgen of disorderly conduct. People were ready to camp overnight, leaving no clue that behind the wall many had leaned on are some of the most prominent brands on planet luxury. But, perhaps, more notable was that it could have been a scene depicting a busy Sunday in Little India.

Out of more than two dozen people we spoke to while the rain beat our backs, none were willing to confirm there was the “scuffle” that dependable ST reported. A security personnel told us there was nothing remotely akin to a “scuffle” and then recalled someone shouting loudly in the rear, which was quickly confirmed by a colleague: “Got people shout.” In the queue, we spoke to a young chap, who told us he was all hunkered down by noon yesterday. When asked about the supposed fracas, he smiled and said, “no scuffle, lah. Just a bit rowdy.” But according to an ST editorial, first breathlessly filed at 10.37pm last night, “a scuffle broke out between two groups around the time he arrived at Ion Orchard, which led to the unofficial queue numbers being distributed.” We asked a security staffer about the private queue arrangement that included numbers crudely written on pieces of torn paper, he did not recall such makeshift tribal governance. Two uniformed Swatch staffers appeared, and when asked about the “scuffle” said there were not aware there was one. We told them, not according to The Straits Times. “You have to ask my manager..” The truth is out there, but we did not meet it.

Overnight campers outside Bacha Coffee

We were trying to figure how many people were in the queue. When we asked the security guard, he said he didn’t know, as the size of the crowd allowed was determined by the pied piper, Swatch. We wondered if he might offer an estimate. He gestured to the queue and welcomed us to do our own maths: “You can count.” When the two Swatch staffers appeared to ready the crowd for the long march to acquisition, we asked them how many people were able to buy. “We don’t know.” At which number in the line was the “cut-off point”? “We don’t know.”How many pieces of the Royal Pop are available today? “We don’t know. Our head office told us not to say anything.” What state secrets were held in the store? People are still joining the queue unaware of the “cut-off”. “We cut off because we don’t want to overflood (sic) this place.” To spare so many from drowning is a public spirit that is now rarely seen. We can’t say that Swatch did not have a plan with the weather gods for water-tight natural disaster management.

Perhaps it was the rain and the filtered light. No one looked like they had a quarter of the minimum recommended hours of sleep. The concrete floor had been wet, making walking an effort akin to skating. Or a newborn giraffe learning to use its legs. We asked a guy (most of them were notably males) how he managed to stay up all night, and he said he and his girlfriend took turns to “watch our things”. Did anyone from Swatch come to do a welfare check on them? He said only the security guys were around to issue a return-to-queue pass in case anyone needed a toilet break. Back in 2012, when the H&M X Maison Margiela collection was launched, we queued for the first time in our placid lives outside the Grange Road store to score the clearly desirable merchandise. It was also an outdoor adventure, with Orchard Cineleisure watching over us. Not long after daybreak, it started to rain. Very quickly, H&M staffers emerged to give everyone an umbrella and a bottle of water. The store we rarely ever go to managed to turn a sleepless night into a memory we were happy to treasure. Thoughtful service, as it turned out, was better than double espresso.

The first few in the queue waiting to be herded to their purchase

While we were speaking to some of those in the queue, a young, lanky, smartly-attired chap appeared and offered someone “S$400” as errand fee to buy the Royal Pop for him. Yes, this was in addition to paying for the timepieces in full. One of the chaps in the security detail, who was nearby, was overheard asking the generous buyer how he was able to just throw money like that. In the past, in similar queues for launches of perceived-to-be-rare collaborations, wealthy Chinese and Indonesian students were known to suddenly show up and do the same. But this fellow was no pupil. He helpfully volunteered that he is a “content creator” and he makes enough to be able to generously offer what he just did so that he can be among the first to talk about the Royal Pop. From the urgency in his voice, you could have thought he was coordinating an organ transplant. For many people, camping out overnight is part of the beautiful foreplay to purchase. For this fellow, however, the foreplay was just a nuisance; he was only concerned with rushing to the climax of the purchase.

The mercenary reality of the modern digital economy is not just about this scouring for content, it is also about those desperately trying to “flip”. Many in the queue did not look like watch wearers, let alone lovers of new-fangled horology. Quite a few, we spied, were bare-wristed. A thirty-something chap, who had been in line since 8pm the previous evening, commented to us that he thought “most of them are scalpers”. Social media had already begun to reveal that foreign workers were hired to queue. Many were reportedly paid S$150 to S$200, but only if they secured the actual watch. About an hour after we left the premises, SneakerDunk was offering the white Royal Pop for S$2,080. The RRP here is S$535 and S$570, depending on model. The gig economy is alive. We asked the guy again, where he will be hanging the Royal Pop after he scored it. He laughed and said, “It won’t be me doing the hanging!”

A second queue outside the Swatch shop

Around 9.30am, Swatch initiated the relocation of the first dozen or so in the line to the Western Paradise of the purchase point. They began their transfer by going down an escalator that was momentarily cordoned off for their excited descent. Cameramen and a videographer trailed them. The group was then herded to another holding pen across the Swatch shop, where they were made to stand in another queue along the black wall of Sephora’s second entrance. The waiting continued. The store was not ready to receive the overnight stayers. Swatch staffers appeared to be receiving a roll call behind the foldable glass door. As we watched the proceedings with fascination, a burly and butch security staffer looked at us with angry eyes and barked: “No queuing over there.” And then she repeated her command, and pointed in our direction. There was no line in front of or behind us. She repeated her order, this time, audibly working her larynx. We were merely passersby who had stopped.

In that ST report, a guy described the Royal Pop as “subtle luxury” and this is confirmed when a chap in front of us jubilantly called it “affordable luxury” when we wondered if Swatch’s asking price was, perhaps, too steep. Should luxury purchases, even by mere association and even when they are an absolute steal, be weighed down by such an unappealing process? It is not clear how all of this augments AP’s standing or makes it an appealing brand. Both AP and Swatch are presiding over the striking ritual of queues collapsing, hired line-sitters dominating, and resale frenzy immediately buzzing. Swatch has experienced this before, yet they choose not to fine-tune the access. The AP X Swatch Royal Pop frenzy wasn’t an accident of demand; it was a carefully manufactured scarcity and madness that are no longer aberrations, but a linguistic inflation and cognitive dissonance that Swatch has cleverly engineered. After we were shooed away, it became really clear: You have to give it to them. They know how to turn naked desire into submissive desperation.

Photos: Chin Boh Kay and AB Tan