
From the late 1960s to the early 1980s, some children in China kept the colourful labels from the fronts of matchboxes. Known as huohua, or “matchbox art”, a label became playable only after the matches had been used. Children carefully lifted the thin paper from the cardboard; when the paste held fast, some dampened the back slightly, separated the label, dried it and pressed it flat inside an old book.
The activity did not end with looking. Labels could be sorted by animals, transport, scenery or colour, while duplicates were traded. Crisp corners and bright printing often mattered. There was no official price: two children had to decide whether one label deserved two in return, or whether the missing image in a series was worth more than an ordinary one. Collecting therefore depended on negotiation as much as possession. Preference and scarcity shaped value, but an agreed exchange was expected to stand.
This was not a uniform memory shared by every household. Cities, factory compounds and different years supplied different designs, and some parents did not allow labels to be kept. What matters is that a toy did not always arrive from a shop under that name. A small printed remnant of adult life gained a second use through careful removal, ordering and exchange among children.
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