Abdul El-Sayed, the left-wing Michigan Senate candidate who has built his campaign around denouncing corporate greed and the lifestyles of the rich, has been photographed on the trail wearing a rotating collection of luxury watches worth thousands of dollars each, a habit that sits uneasily beside his populist message and his own published writings condemning exactly this kind of conspicuous consumption.
A Washington Free Beacon review of campaign photos, Instagram videos, and podcast posts from May and June 2026 identified at least five distinct high-end timepieces on El-Sayed's wrist. The collection includes a German-made Sinn U-1 SE diver's watch costing roughly $4,000, an Omega Speedmaster Moon Phase Chronograph worth approximately $10,000, a vintage Omega Seamaster DeVille valued around $3,000, a Mühle Glashütte S.A.R. Rescue-Timer worth nearly $2,000, and a vintage 1950s Elgin "Doctors Watch" also valued near $2,000.
That is north of $20,000 in wristwear, from a man who posted on X just days before the Free Beacon report: "Why do we have a trillionaire when the rest of us can barely afford groceries or healthcare?"
The contradiction does not require a hostile reading of El-Sayed's record. His own 2020 autobiography, Healing Politics, supplies it. In the book, El-Sayed lamented Rolex billboards lining Michigan's highways, writing that the ads "have real power" because they remind "almost everyone on that highway that although they cannot afford one, someone driving on that same highway can."
He went further, writing:
"The cheapest of those watches sells for at least $3,000, even when they're used. How many people who drive this road can actually afford one of those?"
He then offered a broader critique of luxury signaling:
"Consider the perverse psychological consequences of this signaling. This signaling exacerbates material insecurity. It renders poorer people in more unequal societies more likely to pursue luxury items that they are less able to afford."
Six years later, the candidate who wrote those words is wearing a curated rotation of watches that start at the very price floor he once held up as a symbol of inequality. In a May 2026 interview with LGBTDetroit, El-Sayed described himself as a "sucker for automatic watches" and "classic watches."
El-Sayed's taste drew notice beyond Michigan. The Lan Jam podcast, which describes itself as "a friendly discussion between two blokes on watches, cars, aviation, movies, and everything in between," posted an Instagram shout-out in May 2026 after spotting El-Sayed "rocking what looks like the Sinn U-1 SE." The podcast called it a "badass stealthy pick, well done Doc!"
Josh Rogin, a Washington, D.C., watch collector who runs the Instagram account @WatchTheRamen, told the Free Beacon that El-Sayed's collection was "impressive." Rogin said El-Sayed "clearly spent years curating it and went way out of his way to collect the pieces he really likes and cares about." He added that "most of them cannot be bought in a retail store."
Rogin singled out the Sinn U-1 as an "if you know, you know" piece, the kind of watch for someone who "still want[s] to wear a $5k watch (and not get mugged)." That description, a luxury item designed to avoid looking like a luxury item, captures the tension at the heart of El-Sayed's image problem. The watches are expensive enough to impress collectors, but obscure enough that most voters would never recognize them.
That is not an accident. It is a strategy.
El-Sayed's campaign spokeswoman, Roxie Richner, confirmed that the candidate does not own a Rolex but acknowledged he owns several other pricey watches. Her explanations leaned heavily on symbolism.
"He regularly wears a SAR Rescue Timer on the campaign trail because he is trying to rescue our politics from corporate corruption."
Richner also said: "Sometimes he wears a vintage doctor's watch because he is a doctor."
That second claim carries its own complications. El-Sayed attended medical school at Columbia University but did not complete a residency and has never been licensed to practice medicine, though he has referred to himself as a "physician" on the campaign trail. Wearing a "doctor's watch" because "he is a doctor" raises questions about how loosely the campaign defines the term.
In an Instagram video with Sophie Strauss, a self-described "stylist for regular people," El-Sayed appeared to be wearing a watch that resembled a Rolex Submariner, which costs roughly $15,000. When Strauss suggested El-Sayed wear "something green since you support climate justice," he replied: "Of course, but this feels like money green, and I'm trying to get that out of politics."
Richner denied the watch was a Rolex but did not identify it. The Free Beacon reported it could not determine the exact make and model. If it is a Tag Heuer lookalike, it would cost roughly $2,500. If it is a Tudor, roughly $5,000. Either way, it is not a Timex.
El-Sayed's personal finances paint a portrait considerably more comfortable than his campaign rhetoric suggests. His 2025 financial disclosure listed him as the owner of Incision Media LLC, an "audio and video media" company valued between $100,000 and $250,000. He and his wife, psychiatrist Sarah Jukaku, own at least two rental properties, one in Michigan worth up to $500,000 and one in India worth up to $250,000.
El-Sayed earned $278,939 working as health director for Wayne County in 2024 and 2025. He pulled in nearly $50,000 from paid speeches between January 2024 and April 2025. During his 2018 gubernatorial run, tax returns showed the couple earned around $237,000 in 2016. The Free Beacon noted his net worth "appears to have risen substantially" since then.
Meanwhile, Jukaku's private psychiatric practice, Mind Work Psychiatry, does not accept Medicare or any other insurance, requiring patients to pay out of pocket. That is a notable detail for a household whose most prominent member has called for universal health care through a single-payer "Medicare for All" system covering every American "from cradle to grave."
El-Sayed's father-in-law, a kidney doctor whose name was not disclosed, has donated at least $200,000 to a super PAC supporting El-Sayed's Senate candidacy.
None of this wealth is illegal. Nobody begrudges a man his hobbies. But El-Sayed has not run as a moderate pragmatist who happens to enjoy fine timepieces. He has run as a class warrior.
In March 2026, he posted on X: "How come we work a full time job and still can't afford a home? The answer: corporations can buy politicians." He announced his Senate bid in January 2026 and told WDET: "We finally need to start taxing billionaire wealth."
The message is always the same: regular people are suffering while the wealthy live large. The messenger, however, is wearing a $10,000 Omega Speedmaster while getting ice cream in Grand Haven.
What makes the watch collection more than a curiosity piece is the depth of El-Sayed's own prior commentary on the subject. He did not merely note that luxury watches are expensive. He wrote an entire passage in his book arguing that the mere display of such items inflicts psychological harm on working people. He called it "perverse." He said it "exacerbates material insecurity."
Then he built a curated collection of exactly the kind of watches he condemned, pieces so carefully chosen that a D.C. collector said they could not be bought in retail stores. He wore them on camera, in campaign videos, and in Instagram reels. And when a watch podcast noticed, the response was not embarrassment. It was a shout-out.
El-Sayed's campaign tried to turn the watches into metaphors, a rescue watch because he wants to "rescue" politics, a doctor's watch because he is a "doctor." But voters in Michigan are not shopping for metaphors. They are looking at grocery bills, mortgage rates, and a candidate who says he feels their pain while wearing more on his wrist than many of them earn in a month.
Populism has always had a credibility problem. It gets worse when the populist writes the rules for everyone else, and then buys himself a $10,000 exception.
