I HAVE BEEN CHOSEN to determine who of these mall-hopping greybeards clad in scarlet velvet is the real Santa Claus, and who are merely imposters, buffoons with well-developed paunches and ruddy complexions.
As a child I tried to be clever and test their North Pole knowledge by asking them if penguins hang around the workshop, knowing that penguins only exist in the Southern Hemisphere.
But it's pointless as these men believe in magic, knowing that they must deliver toys to 64,444 children per second for 24 hours to reach all of the Earth's six million inhabitants.
There are so many Santas to choose from in Hong Kong but I quickly narrow the quest down to three by employing a kid's simple logic: if the beard's real, so must be the Santa. The trio I find all meet the criteria with white hair and beards, moustaches like bird's wings in flight and gold-rimmed reading glasses.
No matter that they change outfits throughout the day because of perspiration and wear white gloves in part for the misguided parents who insist on knowing exactly where their hands are. Professional Santa schools may have cropped up in the US, Australia and other parts of the world but most Santas mark them down as ludicrous, trusting their instinct over institutions. I meet Santa number one, alias Noel McClelland, in Pacific Place. This is a tough locale for concentration and he proves incapable of ignoring all the passing kids. Noel (the name does means Christmas) has fading blue eyes and speaks in a soft, loping tone before I even utter a question - as if he knows what I am looking for.
He started out years ago when he made an appearance at a company office party attended by his four-year-old son - who sat on his lap and went through the gift wish-list ritual. Afterwards, back at home, his son looked up and said, 'You know Daddy, that Santa sounded just like you.' 'He never put the two together,' says Noel. Santa number two, Nicholas S Claus (that's how it reads on his birth certificate) arrives in the lobby of the Mandarin Oriental Hotel just before he is due at The Landmark. It is his birthday - 'I'm 57, I mean 400-years-old.' Nicholas is part of the Hollywood-based association, The Amalgamated Brotherhood of Real Bearded Santas. You can't apply, you can only be drafted, he says. Outside of the holiday season the passing public snickers that he's a Hell's Angel or Jerry Garcia. During Christmas, when cynical kids sit on his lap and ask if he's the real Santa, Nicholas pulls down his white glove and reveals his namesake silver ID bracelet. 'The kids always say: 'Look Ma, he's the real one'.'