Fraying legacy: Sham Shui Po’s fabric row faces uncertain future as shops bow out

In a cramped handicraft shop in Hong Kong’s Sham Shui Po neighbourhood, 70-year-old Jen Kwong was sifting through reels of embroidered and sequinned ribbons while other shoppers around her were hunched over containers of tiny beads and trinkets. Kwong, who had worked for four decades during the golden age of Hong Kong’s textile manufacturing industry, still tailors and alters clothing for her grandchildren with her sewing machine at home. But she feared Yu Chau Street, also known as “Bead Street” for its enclave of fabric and accessory shops, would soon become a thing of the past. The streetscape, now dominated by eateries, is due to change even more as four accessory retailers on the block around Yu Chau Street, Ki Lung Street and Nam Cheong Street announced that they would be shutting their doors by the end of the month. “This entire street used to be full of these types of crafting shops, but now, only a few are left,” Kwong said. Reminiscing about the heyday of the manufacturing enclave, she recalled the long queues around the block just to shop at Japanese zip maker YKK Corporation, which shut its Sham Shui Po storefront in 2008. “Bead Street has changed completely. It is a pity but I understand they have no choice,” she said. “Nowadays, it is easier to buy a new piece of garment than to mend one.” Holding up a yellow sequinned ribbon inside Accessory Republic Company, one of the shops due to close this month, Kwong said that such imported materials would be impossible to find in the future. “These should be imported from India. It is of very high quality and relatively cheap, only HK$40 [US$5] for a metre,” said the retiree, who started her career stringing beads in a garment factory. Despite being a Thursday afternoon, the cramped shop was full of customers shopping for everything from beads, ribbons and buttons to hooks, clasps and freshwater pearls. E-commerce was not a fair alternative, Kwong said, recalling bad experiences with receiving subpar materials from shopping online. “Shopping in person is the most ideal. You can touch it, compare materials and mix and match,” she said. While many Hong Kong residents headed north across the border to mainland China on the weekends in recent years, Kwong said retailers in Shenzhen did not have the same offerings as those in Sham Shui Po. Kwong Yiu Fashion Accessories Company on Nam Cheong Street would also be shutting down at the end of August, citing falling business that was unable to sustain its monthly rent of more than HK$10,000. The owner, who only gave her surname as Mok, has been running her business for over a decade but said sales have dropped “unexpectedly” by 60 per cent in the past few years. “We saw an uptick in interest in crafts during the pandemic as more people were into DIY and knitting,” she said. “But it has been a downturn ever since 2023.” The tight shopfront selling everything at half price was stuffed with ostrich feather boas of all colours, clasps for purses and fascinators, an item Mok said saw the best sales near the end of the year as guests dressed up ahead of major horse race occasions. She agreed that Yu Chau Street might be losing its identity as “Bead Street”. “The storefronts have changed a lot these few years. More than half of these accessory shops are now eateries,” she said. But her decision to shut down remained unchanged as she cited worsening business and an inertia to switch to online sales. “I am unfamiliar with e-commerce and that would require time and effort to set up an inventory and rent a warehouse for stocktaking,” she said. Neighbouring Bead Box also cited rising costs and “macroeconomic factors” for shutting its doors after two decades. The narrow and dim shop was packed with rows and rows of plastic containers filled with neatly categorised beads of all materials, shapes and sizes. The owner, who declined to be named, lamented the rising costs of beads – which are petroleum derivatives – and higher logistical and manpower costs, leading to falling wholesale business. “Our goods are of high quality and our regulars know the difference,” she said, gesturing to a basket of ribbons while fanning herself. The air conditioning in the shop had just broken down, forcing her to buy new fans to survive the height of Hong Kong’s summer even though they were closing shop in two weeks. “Once people know we are closing, they rush to buy our entire stock because they know they could not find such high quality elsewhere,” she said. Paul Chan Chi-yuen, co-founder of Walk In Hong Kong, has been doing community-based tours in Sham Shui Po for the past decade, and has borne witness to the changes in the neighbourhood. At the start of the decade, online discourse calling Sham Shui Po the “new Brooklyn” generated concerns about gentrification in one of Hong Kong’s poorest neighbourhoods, as young entrepreneurs drawn by low rent moved into empty shop spaces. The change was most prominent in Tai Nan Street, a former leather hub which saw a mushrooming of cafes, independent bookstores and art spaces, attracting middle-class Hongkongers and expats even to this day. Chan said the wave of new businesses that started moving in around 2015 brought new momentum and fresh blood to the neighbourhood, recalling a lively community atmosphere and events on the weekends. “We feel that in an old district undergoing economic transformation, if you find a group of thoughtful, creative people moving in to bring new dynamics, that is definitely positive,” he said. “The concerns are more about how you manage that change.” When it comes to the future of Sham Shui Po, Chan said the neighbourhood could be studied as a microcosm of Hong Kong, as more residents spend time and money across the border while tourists were spending less. He cited Kung Wo Beancurd Factory, listed in the Michelin Bib Gourmand, as a successful example of economic transformation in Sham Shui Po. The second-generation owner of the century-old eatery honoured her family business’s history while exploring creative new products such as tofu ice cream with ginger syrup to stay relevant, Chan said. “Given the macroeconomy, if your trade no longer plays the economic role of that era, you have to transform the business into something that matches the times and the actual demand of the current market,” he said. “It’s no longer about just selling that button or that piece of fabric. Instead, it might be experiential offerings, cultural and creative products, educational programmes, or branding elements.” Outside Kwong Yiu Fashion Accessories Company, housewives Katrina Kon and Siewann Kong walked away happily with bags full of fabric and trinkets after a “scavenger hunt” of half an hour. Although she has yet to decide what to do with her purchases, Kon said she spent around HK$280 on feather boas, ribbons and fascinators and had a meaningful conversation with the shopkeeper. “We love exploring shops like these as they are fast disappearing and we want to support them,” she said. “We love the tactile feel of these things. It’s like a treasure hunt and you end up finding things you never thought you would see.” Her friend Kong agreed: “We don’t get retail experiences like these any more.”

Fraying legacy: Sham Shui Po’s fabric row faces uncertain future as shops bow out

.css-1c6uqr6{color:inherit;font-weight:inherit;font-size:inherit;font-family:inherit;line-height:inherit;overflow-wrap:break-word;}Rising costs and shifting retail trends are pushing out long-established businesses from once-vibrant craft hub on Bead Street

Rising costs and shifting retail trends are pushing out long-established businesses from once-vibrant craft hub on Bead Street