Chongqing - Once a humble trinket tossed aside after children savored sour plum powder—sold for just 0.01 USD per bag—plastic scoops have now emerged as unexpected collectibles. On the secondhand trading platform Goofish (Xian Yu), a set of 110 themed scoops commands a staggering 3,030 USD, with a single dragon-shaped scoop once priced at 96 USD.
Vintage Plum Powder Scoops sold on Goofish. (Photo/Chongqing Daily)
In the 1980s and ’90s, sour-plum powder was a staple street snack for Chinese children. Each bag included a roughly 2 cm plastic scoop, often molded into playful shapes—Sun Wukong’s golden staff, chubby animals or heroes from Water Margin. Those whimsical designs turned the scoops into coveted collectibles.
Today, these relics of post-1980s childhoods fuel a thriving collectors’ market. Goofish currently lists 143 mini-scoop items, all with high engagement. One seller offers 110 scoops for $3,253 (discounted to $3,030), attracting 1,408 views and 12 serious buyers. Another bundle of 164 scoops sells for $554, with the vendor insisting, “This is below cost—I’m already losing money.”
Zhao Daxia (a pseudonym), an online seller on Goofish, confirms the demand: a single fairy-patterned scoop recently sold for $41, while multi-scoop lots priced above $1,387 spark active negotiations.
Why the surge in value? “Only the scoops survive today—the original powder packaging and manufacturers are long gone,” Zhao explains. This scarcity, combined with potent nostalgia, has elevated what were once disposable trinkets into prized artifacts.
A nostalgic cultural and creative shop in Chongqing. (Photo/Chongqing Daily)
The craving for retro items spans bubble gum, tin toys, and vintage cameras—all evoking childhood simplicity. In Chongqing, cultural designer Li Kecheng channels this sentiment into creative reinventions.
One standout creation: a palm-sized lampbox casting warm light on a miniature Chongqing hotpot scene—wooden storefronts, a bubbling broth, and handwritten menus listing "tripe" and "duck intestine." For locals, it's a visceral trip back to childhood nights at neighborhood eateries.
"We reimagine old objects with new purpose," Li noted. His team repackages vintage books into "mystery bags" printed with Chongqing dialect like "qianfan'er" (mischievous) or "shaowu" (lunch), sparking fresh interest in forgotten paperbacks.
A nostalgic cultural and creative shop in Chongqing. (Photo/Chongqing Daily)
From Ciqikou to Hongya Cave, nostalgia-themed shops dot Chongqing's tourist hubs. But why does retro culture resonate?
"At its core, nostalgia is a yearning for beautiful memories," said Chi Lin, Director of Cultural Products at Chongqing China Three Gorges Museum. As material needs are met, people seek emotional fulfillment. "It’s not just about objects - it's about savoring the timeless stories they carry."
Whether dialect book bags or hotpot lampboxes, these creations tap into shared cultural memories. They offer identity, comfort, and respite from modern pressures, especially when tied to sensory experiences like Chongqing's iconic fiery cuisine.
The humble plastic mini-scoops' journey—from penny accessory to four-figure collectible—mirrors a broader cultural shift. When creativity breathes new life into old objects, they become keys to our collective past. Each purchase is more than a transaction; it's an anchor in the rush of modern life—a quiet reclaiming of where we began.
A nostalgic cultural and creative shop in Chongqing. (Photo/Chongqing Daily)
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