What’s the most you’d pay for a toy car?
Probably less than $400.
You could buy a lot of things for $400. It’s a sum of money that could make a pretty big difference in someone’s life. $400 could buy textbooks. It could buy a few months of food. It could get you most of the way toward a mostly-functioning Honda Accord.
Or, it could get you a three-inch-long toy car, brand new in its package.
I’ve been fascinated with the world of toy car collectors and their online community for a few months now. I’m a car enthusiast, and collectors have been more and more visible on popular automotive blogs.
I’ve done all my research for this piece online. You can consider this a virtual ethnography; instead of fieldwork, I did screenwork. As Dominic Boyer describes in his book The Life Informatic, modern ethnographers have done excellent research without leaving their offices. Since I don’t have any contacts in the collector community, virtual ethnographic fieldwork was my best option.
Boyer, in his study of German news outlets, considers how journalists imagine themselves in a ‘digital age.’ Today, journalism looks more like a ‘remix’ of existing information rather than creation of new information. Can the classic beat reporter, hitting the streets and sniffing out facts, still exist when many journalists rarely leave their desks? In Boyer’s work, and in mine, questions of identity and self-imagination are key. How do adult toy collectors imagine themselves as they click “Buy It Now” on a $400 toy?
First, a note on terminology. The collectors call their sometimes-expensive prizes “diecast cars.” “Diecast” refers to the manufacturing process in which metal is cast into a die or mold. Perhaps adult collectors don’t like the connotation of the word “toy.”
Now, back to the central question. Let’s imagine a diecast collector. We’ll call him Dave. Dave is middle-aged, he’s married, and he has kids who are past the age where they played with toys. So, why does he spend so much money on toys, and how does he picture himself?
I argue that Dave imagines himself as a dragon. I don’t mean this literally. I mean that Dave is like a dragon sleeping on its hoard of gold. He imagines himself to be a triumphant plunderer who has pillaged the countryside and taken his reward. He has found a rare object, and he’s proud of the skill he demonstrated in the finding. These “dragon” collectors derive huge pleasure from ownership, especially of something rare. For them, it’s not about the money.
It’s worth mentioning here the distinction between use value and exchange value. Use value refers to the actual utility of an object, and its ability to satisfy a need. Exchange value, linked to money, refers to an object’s ability to command a price on the market.
For Dave, which is more important? Let’s imagine how he uses the toy once he has it. The sight of his toy is enough for Dave. He’s never going to sell it, and he’s never going to play with it. He’ll probably never even take it out of his package. It is enough that he has found the “holy grail” — he doesn’t have to do anything with it once he’s found it.
To Dave, the toy car’s use value is high, because he derives great pleasure in the having. To you, the toy car’s use value is very low. You don’t really like toy cars; looking at a toy car sitting on your shelf brings you no pleasure. That’s why the toy’s $400 exchange value is absurd to you but reasonable to Dave. He will get $400 worth of pleasure out of it, whereas you will not.
It is this different perception of use value that creates the “dragon” collector. These collectors imagine themselves as victors over the market, enjoying something rare that the forces of supply and demand tried to deny them.
So, if you’ve got $9,999.99 lying around, go ahead and buy this vintage Matchbox car and tell me how it feels. It’s all in the name of research.
