CASHING IN ON COLLECTORS CASHING IN ON COLLECTORS
FROM a tiny shop in Mongkok's seamy underbelly, Mark Chan Tat-sing makes a killing by selling Coke. It is such a lucrative business that he sometimes earns 50 times his investment. But it is not the pernicious white powder that he peddles. He earns his living off the black stuff quaffed worldwide by millions.
Here, a bottle of Coca-Cola can set you back $225. This is no ordinary item. It is an out-of-production Taiwanese bottle with Chinese characters that read from right to left. For those with less money to burn, there are cheaper goods available. Bangladeshi Coca-Cola, for instance, costs only $65 a can.
It does not matter that few Hong Kongers can read the writing on the can. What is more important is that they are willing to pay a premium for the product. Which is why prices are often arbitrary, with some shops pricing the item as high as $80, he says.
An amateur collector of Coca-Cola cans before opening his shop three years ago, Mr Chan understands fully what motivates his customers. He has much on display to whet their appetites. There is a drained 1970s Vitasoy bottle - found in an abandoned house in a New Territories village, for instance, worth $80, he reckons.
If the price tags are to be believed, Mr Chan is sitting on a veritable treasure trove worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. At first glance, however, the shop looks more like a toy store - and a kitschy one at that.
Japanese miniature toy cars (the cheapest is $75) sit beside Kellogg's tiger figurines (a freebie included in cereal boxes several years ago), while the counter is decorated with rare MTR tickets and piggy banks drenched in dust.
A star item is, of course, McSnoopys, the latest collectors' item to capture the fancy of Hong Kongers.
Two weeks before the plastic beagles went on sale at McDonald's outlets throughout Hong Kong, he stocked up on the toys, buying 20 or more sets at a time from Shenzhen and maintaining his stock by making frequent trips across the border. The toys were available on the mainland before they started being sold in McDonald's restaurants here.
As he congratulates himself for his foresight, two elderly customers inquire about the Canadian McSnoopys, ignoring (or perhaps unable to see) the price tags, which read $85. Probably aware that all items in the shop have fixed prices, they do not bother bargaining and walk off mumbling about lower prices elsewhere. Everyone is vying for a slice of the action, Mr Chan says, when it comes to collecting.
A soft toy he picked up for $2 in a Shamshuipo street stall was swiftly resold for more than $200. And there is no shortage of stock because of the endless stream of people willing to part with all sorts of weird memorabilia - much of it useless. Entrepreneurs like Mr Chan are sating the appetite of those who have long displayed a lust for hoarding - and consequently trading in 'collectors' items'.
From the tourist traps of Tsim Sha Tsui to the tired back-streets of Shau Kei Wan, myriad shops are fuelled by the sale of goods as diverse as hard-to-find records and out-of-print maps. The prices are staggering. Copies of old kung-fu comic books, penned by the genre's kingpin Tony Wong Yuk-long, for example, change hands for $900 each. Those in the know say the height of the madness was during the handover last year, when the economy was booming and even the most mundane item was accorded some historical significance.
Apart from the conventional coins and stamps commemorating the event, items such as obsolete BDTC passports and travel documents (some salvaged from litter bins, others obtained from enterprising owners) also became much sought-after, especially because they were graced with the British Crown and coat-of-arms.
Even handover press-kits (containing a Hong Kong fact book found in any library, commemorative shirts and watches) the Government issued free-of-charge to reporters covering the event, found their way into the market, priced at several hundreds of dollars each.
Some analysing Hong Kongers' penchant for collecting have pinned the cause to sociological reason, explaining that it reveals a paranoid populace desperate for anything of value. Another conclusion associates the mania with anal retention.
Cheung Yim-nam probably understands better what it is all about. One of the original gang of hoarders who bought stamps in the thousands to sell for a profit, Mr Cheung explains that stamps, and later telephone cards and MTR tickets, have always been an investment for him.
'When I was younger I saw people buying stamps in sheets rather than in sets; that's when I learned how people were making money,' he says. 'I jumped on the bandwagon.' One of his most profitable ventures has been trading in Chinese 'Year of the Monkey' stamps. When he bought the items in 1980, each sheet of 80 stamps cost him about $100. Now he sells them for $130,000 each.
Owner of a philatelic shop at the Sino Shopping Centre in Mongkok, Mr Cheung saw stamp-collecting and trading - a specialist hobby just a decade ago - develop into a craze two years ago.
But he says he has also witnessed interest fade.
'Business used to be so good I could easily part with the $30,000 rent, no problem,' says Mr Cheung, who resigned from a shipping company job seven years ago to start his business.
But any business that depends on speculation is by nature prone to ups and downs, as Mr Cheung has discovered with the stamp business now close to comatose because of the economic downturn.
Similar to housing developers who blame the Government for bringing down property prices with its pledges of building more flats, Mr Cheung also blames the Post Office for issuing stamps in unlimited consignments, severely undermining their value.
'They are letting [philatelists] order any amount they wish,' he says. 'It's just become valueless.' Several blocks away, Mr Chan is more optimistic about his future. 'Just by selling this, I am able to make up for one day's rent,' he says, picking up a miniature bus that he bought for $100 and is selling for $400.
'What I don't want is to make a huge investment and spend years waiting for the tiniest of profits.'
