How Patek Philippe made their best-selling watch extinct (and we're all still crying about it)

The original 5711/1A: impossible to get.

Photo credit: Creator: SWISSWATCHES.MEDIA GMBH 

The Birth of a Steel Icon

Let's rewind to 1976, when Gerald Genta—the man who could apparently design a watch while having a fever dream about portholes—created the original Nautilus. The Swiss watch industry was getting its collective derrière handed to it by quartz movements, and luxury brands were scrambling like contestants on a reality TV show.

Genta had already shocked the world with the Audemars Piguet Royal Oak, proving that steel could be sexier than gold (revolutionary thinking for an era when men still wore three-piece suits to baseball games). Patek Philippe, not to be outdone by their neighbors, commissioned the same designer to create their own steel statement piece.

The result was big, bold, made of steel, and—plot twist—priced like it was forged from unicorn tears. Collectors were as confused as millennials trying to understand TikTok, but eventually, the Nautilus became the cult favorite that launched a thousand Instagram posts.

Sultan Hassanal Bolkiah wearing Patek Philippe Nautilus 5711/1A​​

Photo credit: IFL watches

Enter the 5711: The People's Patek

Fast-forward thirty years to 2006, when Patek Philippe released the 5711/1A—the refined, modern descendant that would eventually cause more drama than a Real Housewives reunion. At 40mm, it hit the sweet spot between "elegant enough for a board meeting" and "casual enough for that yacht you definitely don't own."

This wasn't your grandfather's Patek. No diamonds cluttering the blue dial. No complications that required a PhD to understand. Just pure, unadulterated design wrapped in steel—the ultimate stealth wealth flex that whispered sophistication while everyone else was shouting with their Rolexes.

The 5711/1A was the horological equivalent of that effortlessly cool friend who looks amazing in everything but swears they "just threw this on." It could transition from The Hamptons to Monte-Carlo faster than you could say "oligarch's yacht party."

Prince Mateen wearing the the original 5711/1A.

Photo credit: tmski/Instagram

When Pop Culture Came Knocking

By the late 2010s, something magical (or terrifying, depending on your perspective) happened: the Nautilus broke containment. What started as a watch collector's secret handshake suddenly became the must-have accessory for anyone with a pulse and a seven-figure bank account.

Ed Sheeran, whose watch collection could probably solve world hunger, was spotted wearing one during concerts. Prince Mateen of Brunei made it look effortlessly regal. Suddenly, this minimalist piece of Swiss engineering was popping up everywhere—NBA locker rooms, recording studios, and the wrists of crypto millionaires who thought "diversification" meant buying both Bitcoin and Dogecoin.

The retail price remained a "reasonable" $30,000 USD, but getting one from an authorized dealer was like trying to get dinner reservations at that restaurant that doesn't exist but everyone claims to have been to. You needed a purchase history longer than a CVS receipt and the patience of a saint.

Meanwhile, on the grey market, prices were climbing faster than my anxiety during a market crash. By 2021, these steel sports watches were commanding $150,000 USD—enough to buy a house in some places or a parking spot in others.

The Great Discontinuation of 2021

Then came the announcement that shook the watch world harder than an iPhone notification during a meditation retreat. Thierry Stern, Patek Philippe's president and the man with the power to make grown collectors weep, declared that the 5711/1A would be discontinued.

The reasoning? "We cannot put a single watch on top of our pyramid. It is not who we are." In other words, Patek Philippe was experiencing the luxury brand equivalent of being too popular at school—when everyone wants to sit at your table, maybe it's time to find a new cafeteria.

Prince of Brunei Abdul Mateen was spotted wearing a Patek Philippe Nautilus Ref. 5711/1A-014. This watch retailed for $37,800 USD but currently is selling on the secondary market for around $600,000 USD.

Photo credit: Wrist Enthusiast

It was brand preservation at its most pragmatic. Patek Philippe, built on tradition and exclusivity, wasn't about to become a meme. But not before one final middle finger to collectors everywhere: they released the 5711/1A-014 with an olive green dial, followed by the pièce de résistance—the Tiffany & Co. collaboration in robin's egg blue, limited to 170 pieces.

One of those Tiffany pieces sold for $6.5 million USD at auction. To put that in perspective, that's enough money to buy a small island, or alternatively, one watch that tells the same time as your phone.

The Aftermath: When Death Becomes Immortality

Since its discontinuation, the 5711/1A has achieved something most luxury goods can only dream of: true legendary status. It's become the horological equivalent of a unicorn—everyone knows what it is, few have seen one in the wild, and even fewer will ever own one.

Current market prices still hover north of $100,000 , making it more expensive than most people's houses and infinitely harder to explain to your spouse. The successor, the white gold 5811/1G, carries the same silhouette but not the same story. It's like comparing a cover band to the Beatles—technically proficient, but missing that magic.

The final production 5711/1A-014 with olive green dial: a final swan song that sparked even more collector chaos. Photo credit: Patek Philippe

The Last Laugh

By discontinuing their best-selling watch, Patek Philippe didn't just create scarcity—they created mythology. They took a steel sports watch and turned it into a cultural artifact, proving that sometimes the best way to win the game is to flip the board and walk away.

The 5711/1A's legacy lives on in overpriced auction lots, heated Reddit debates, and the occasional celebrity wrist shot that sends the watch community into a collective frenzy. It's a reminder that in the luxury game, nothing drives desire quite like the word "discontinued."

And somewhere in Geneva, Thierry Stern is probably having a quiet chuckle, knowing that by killing off their golden goose, they created something far more valuable: a legend that will outlive us all.

After all, you can't put a price on immortality—though the current market suggests it's somewhere around $150,000.