Editor’s Note: This post originally appeared on the blog Inside Vancouver, as part of special coverage of the 2010 Olympic Games.
Olympic pins are serious business at the Coca-Cola trading centre in the Bay.
Inside the Olympic superstore at the Bay this afternoon, it was pure pin-demonium. The Bay is one of three official Coca-Cola pin trading sites in the city of Vancouver. The collecting and trading of Olympic pins dates all the way back to the first modern Olympics in 1896. It’s since grown into a cult hobby, whose enthusiasts are just as fanatical as hardcore baseball card or comic book collectors. And for the last two weeks or so, Vancouver has been their headquarters.
Gladys Wallack from Cypress River, Manitoba, shows off her collection of Olympic hockey pins.
Inside the Coca-Cola trading centre at the Bay, I meet Gladys Wallack from Cypress River, Manitoba. Today, she booked a three-hour trading block at one of the official trading tables. Laid out in front of her are hundreds of different pins from the Vancouver Games, from smiling mascots to First Nations symbols to pins given out by corporate sponsors. Over the last 25 years, Gladys has traded at 11 different Olympic Games. It’s a labor of love, an excuse to take vacations and a great way to meet people, she says. But it’s also a serious pursuit. Hard to find pins garner big bucks: A shiny USA hockey jersey pin that sold in stores for $10 a week ago just went for $107 on eBay, Gladys says. A loose set of protocol governs trading at the Games. If you’re brandishing multiple pins on your scarf or lapels, it’s a signal to other traders that you’re in the market. Anything you wear is technically up for grabs, although the terms of the deal are entirely up to you. To interrupt a trade in progress is considered the height of rudeness. And, of course, money is never supposed to change hands (Well . . . that’s the idea, at least).
Fans from around the world have left behind pins to mark their native cities.
Back at Gladys’ table, I get to witness a transaction take place. A sweet-looking girl – volunteer at Canada House, according to her badge – walks up and points to a shiny silver pin on her scarf. “Do you have this one?” she asks. Gladys nods – It’s a common pin, but she might be interested anyway. The sweet volunteer peruses Gladys’ stash for a suitable trade, finally pointing to a First Nations pin. But the Aboriginal stuff is hard to come by: Gladys declines. The tension mounts. While the deal is hammered out, I explore the rest of the pin trading centre. On one wall, hundreds of different brand-new pins are on sale for $10, ranging from tiny Team Canada hockey jerseys to iconic Vancouver landmarks. On the opposite side of the room is a giant world map festooned with pins left by visitors from different countries. There’s even a special station where for $12 you can get your picture taken with a replica torch and affixed onto a pin of your own.
Hundreds of different brand-new pins are for sale.
Back at the pin table, a trade has been brokered. In the end, Gladys reluctantly parted with a cute Miga, one of the hard-to-find mascot pins in short supply at the Games (Other red-hot items include anything to do with Canada hockey and pins featuring the Games’ iconic red mittens). But Gladys doesn’t look worried. She slides back one tray of pins to reveal another one glittering beneath with dozens of Canada hockey pins. “This is my powerhouse,” she says. The atmosphere in the pin trading centres represents a unique bit of Olympic culture. It’s definitely worth a trip, although it’s much easier to get inside at the Vancouver Airport and CTV locations (Bay visitors have to wait on the lengthy Olympic superstore line). In general, collectors are an easy-going lot. Stop by and they’ll gladly show off their wares . . . just as long as you don’t call them pin-heads.
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