An Angel on My Desk
Where do we get those wonderful toys?
      by Rachel Hyland

When I was a kid, how simple life was. I'd get presents on my birthday, or at Christmas; I'd tear open the wrapping, admire the box for a moment, and then rip the toy out of it with joyful unconcern. How times have changed. Now when I receive my gifts and open the wrapping paper, there is a moment of dilemma. Much as I want to get to the toy inside, to hold little Marvin the Martian, or Willow, or Hercules in my hand (the gifts are almost inevitably genre-related -- is that a good thing, do you think?), I wonder: dare I? What will that do to the worth of my -- okay, somebody else's -- investment? What if this particular collectible were to become the only one of it's kind left in the world ('cause, as you know, hardly anyone buys South Park dolls these days), and all of its value to future generations is destroyed because I unthinkingly took it out of its original packaging? Of course, I always go ahead and rip into it anyway, but the painful moment of indecision strikes me to my very core. It has probably cost me a fortune, too. Those mint limited edition Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle figures (limited to, oh, five hundred thousand or so) can fetch a fortune if advertised at the right places, I've heard.

Although it's nothing in comparison to the kind of cash those who own the rights to genre shows and movies make out of the licensing companies who pay for the honour of producing these toys. When it costs upwards of US$20 for a Pokemon lunchbox (like you'd want one), and over US$200 for a replica of Babylon 5 (and it's not even life-sized!), there is no doubt that companies producing licensed gadgets, knick knacks and bric a brac are more than getting their money's worth out of their mega-money deals. But are we?

In 1998, according to a Unity Marketing report quoted at USADATA.com, the US collectibles industry in 1998 was worth something in the neighbourhood of US$10.7 billion. I'm seriously considering moving to that neighbourhood. Another report available at the same site suggested that the US market for animation collectibles was in the comparatively less-desirable locale of US$500 million. No doubt I could have gleaned more information on this had I purchased these reports in their entirety, but that would have cost me money, and, well, I just wasn't that interested in the topic. Sorry.

Still, $10.7 billion. Impressive. Of course, that isn't all genre, isn't all action figures and models and plates with the ship from Battlestar Galactica painted on them, but it is a significant number. It tells us that there a lot of people out there buying a lot of what many would consider to be useless stuff, and all of those people are willing to pay well for the privilege. In fact, The Licensing Letter, an industry publication, puts the figure of 1999 licensed product sales at an even more staggering $115 billion world-wide (with over 70 billion of that coming from North America), and with the amount generated by TV and movie characters alone approaching an incredible $16 billion. (Take that, Unity Marketing!) Again, of course, I am just quoting sources. I didn't subscribe to that newsletter either. I'm cheap, okay, and I'm saving up for the full set of Planet of the Apes action figures. I need more toys!

And I'm not alone. According to the Toy Manufacturers of America, sales of toys increased to $23.5 billion in 1999; up 8.8% from 1998. Action toys boasted a sales increase of 23.8%, with Star Wars ending the year as the number-one action figure brand, followed at some distance by Power Rangers. Power Rangers? Cool. Toys associated with licensed properties -- everything from Pokemon to Sleepy Hollow to all of those kids who flocked to buy Tarzan merchandise -- accounted for 46% of traditional toy sales in 1999. Want more figures? (And by figures I mean numbers, not dolls.) 'Cause I've got more, and they're really interesting... oh, okay, I won't then. Be that way.

This, of course, does not take into account all sales on-line, many of which are private. Just about every website has a store these days, offering all kinds of merchandise; so many, many toys, and all sounding the irresistible siren song of "bargain." From official sites, to auction sites, to fansites with delusions of grandeur fostered by an Amazon Associate banner, it's not hard these days to organise a toy-fix just by connecting to the Web. Affiliate programs are everywhere, granting their subscribers a percentage of the amount spent by the referred surfer, while the commerce sites themselves bank on the probability that not only will these purchasers go back to buy more, but that they will do so without using a referral site again, saving them the commission. I have made a personal vow not to buy anything from anywhere on-line unless I get there through a banner on one of my favourite sites. Damn the man. Gosh, I'm evil.

As, if you will forgive the patently obvious segue, are auction sites. They're all just so tacky, so gaudy... so compelling. And there are so many of them! So many, in fact, that they even have their own awards. Yes, the Internet Collectibles Awards, self-proclaimed as the "Internet's most exciting interactive activity" (huh?), whereat you can actually nominate, and vote for, the best places online to order such things as collectibles, toys and memorabilia. Why would you want to do that? And why wouldn't the winner just automatically be eBay? (Hey, any site the was born out of the founder's girlfriend's desire to collect Pez dispensers is okay by me.) A journey to eBay, or to any online auction site, is a positive revelation. Who'd have thought that a 1970's Dr. Who talking Dalek existed? Or that someone might offer a mint condition Daredevil Issue #1 for sale? A Tribble! I can buy a Tribble! Oh, happy day...

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