A wave of small-scale collecting known as “trinketcore” has taken hold across New York City, with young residents turning thrifted knickknacks, blind-box miniatures and vintage curios into eye-catching displays in apartments, backpacks and storefronts.
Collectors and shop owners said the trend—spurred by nostalgia, escapism and social-media sharing—has broadened the market for everything from $10 mystery packs to cult-favorite figurines that can fetch hundreds or thousands of dollars. Young people are showing up at long-standing specialty stores and new boutiques alike seeking tiny objects that feel wholesome, distinctive and collectible.
“What makes a trinket? Anything nostalgic and wholesome,” said QingYing “Mimi” Guan, 26, of Chinatown, describing her apartment as a “personal museum” filled with figures such as Sonny Angels, Nyota and Hirono statuettes. For other collectors, the appeal is the surprise element of blind boxes and the ritual of unboxing that has become a social-media genre in itself.
Retailers report a measurable uptick in younger customers. Friends NYC, a Bushwick shop at 56 Bogart St. that started as a vintage clothing store in 2012, now highlights collectible blind-box toys and cult-favorite figures like Sonny Angel, Smiski, Miffy and Monchhichi alongside vintage clothes and homewares. Janine Lee, Friends’ marketing director, said the store has leaned into those items post-pandemic as demand rose.
Longer-established specialty stores have seen a similar shift. Leslie Edelman’s Tiny Doll House, tucked at 314 E. 78th St. on the Upper East Side and operated for more than 30 years, has become a TikTok-fueled destination for hobbyists seeking artisan-scale miniatures and dollhouse furnishings. Edelman said the clientele has been getting younger, with shoppers ranging from toddlers to collectors in their 90s.
Some items have moved beyond niche fandom into mainstream attention. Labubu, a sharp-toothed plush monster created by Hong Kong illustrator Kasing Lung, has become highly collectible: fans line figures up like trophies, attach them to purses as charms and pay widely varying prices on secondary markets. The franchise has been described by collectors as a major commercial success, with prices ranging from about $40 to several thousand for rare pieces.
Collectors described a range of motivations. For some, the objects are nostalgia anchors—small physical reminders of childhood or a simpler time. “They’re like time capsules,” said Katlyn Le Leal, 25, of Bushwick. “Collecting trinkets feels like healing your inner child.” Others use trinkets as a form of self-expression, arranging displays that function as personal branding in apartments and on social feeds.
Alice Kim, 26, a designer and self-described maximalist from Bushwick, said she collects Sanrio, Monchhichi and San-X toys and treats the hobby as “an homage to enjoying life and living simply.” Many collectors favor blind-box products—manufactured mystery packs popularized by brands such as PopMart—whose combination of chance and communal unboxing videos on TikTok and other platforms has helped propel demand.
Independent retail owners said the trend has altered the small-goods landscape. Greenwich Letterpress at 15 Christopher St. in the West Village, opened by sisters Beth Salvini and Amy Salvini Swanson in 2006, now sells a higher volume of small collectible items—stickers, matchbooks and decorative trinkets—than it did previously, drawing a noticeably younger crowd. “It seems like people are coming here more and more for small, collectible items,” Beth Salvini said.
The Lower East Side has also seen new entrants aimed at the trinket market. A Shop of Things, a women-run retailer that began online in Nashville in 2015, opened a brick-and-mortar at 30 Orchard St. in April. Store manager Micah Granger said customers describe the store as a place to relive childhood and buy cheerful objects to brighten their week.
Thrift and vintage markets remain central to the movement. Collectors such as Kristen Alvarenga, 26 of Bushwick, prize older, dustier items—candelabras, matchboxes and moody lampshades—that convey a sense of history and imagined provenance. “Thrifting ornate trinkets makes my space feel cinematic,” she said.
Shop owners point to several market drivers: the low price point of many trinkets, the visual appeal of densely arranged collections for social media, and the mix of novelty and nostalgia that small objects provide. The trend has proven resilient across neighborhoods and income levels, from young professionals investing in designer blind-box figures to budget-conscious thrifters hunting for vintage curios.
While trinket collecting has spawned secondary markets and dedicated retail space, industry observers and shop owners framed it as a cultural as well as commercial phenomenon. For shoppers and sellers interviewed, the objects serve practical and emotional functions: decorative accents, conversation starters, and physical artifacts that link collectors to communities and memories.
Retailers said they expect interest to continue as long as social-media platforms amplify unboxing culture and younger shoppers seek tactile, affordable ways to personalize their spaces. For now, the city’s boutiques and vintage shops continue to supply the tiny treasures fueling a surprisingly broad cultural revival.