If our possessions reflect our identities, then Winston Chong is evidently from Generation X, typically defined as those born between 1965 and 1980.
It is the 50-year-old’s analogue paraphernalia that gives him away, even though he doesn’t quite have a single object of affection unlike many collectors.
Instead, he has vintage movie tickets, preserved in plastic sleeves. The oldest is from a 1992 screening at now-defunct Clementi Theatre of action comedy sequel Fight Back To School 2 starring Stephen Chow.
He has stacks of long-discontinued newspapers and magazines, once notable titles in Singapore’s publishing history. Some even include his byline from his brief stint as a journalist at the start of his career, now in communications.
And he has binders of payphone cards and TransitLink fare cards. The few still with stored value are unusable as their technology is obsolete.
These artefacts of a bygone era have sat in Chong’s storeroom at home in Clementi, out of sight and out of mind, until a recent documentary compelled him to unearth his mementoes and memories.
He was featured in the third episode of CNA’s On The Red Dot: Museum Of U & Me at the end of September. The five-part series highlights everyday items from Singapore’s past that people have kept.
Some items from the series are now displayed in a pop-up of the same name at the National Museum of Singapore, which runs till Dec 14.
Among those selected: His movie tickets.
Of the 70 untorn movie tickets that Winston's collected since the early 1990s, several are displayed in a photo frame that sits in his study at home. (Photo: CNA/Joyee Koo)
A movie ticket from Aug 14, 1993, in pristine condition. (Photo: CNA/Joyee Koo)
Untorn movie tickets from the 1990s in Winston's collection. These have been preserved in plastic sleeves. (Photo: CNA/Joyee Koo)
Younger generations may not realise the significance of Chong’s ticket collection, but it is the surest sign that he’s not quite the average movie buff.
All of his 70 tickets are untorn – a feat accomplished through luck and skill.
He amassed the lot by slipping into cinemas in his late teens without being detected by ushers at the door, whose job was to tear every patron's tickets upon entry.
Back then, there were no Facebook or Telegram communities selling collectibles, like movie posters. The only thing he could have as a keepsake were tickets.
In any case, his parents had already “paid good money” for the family’s tickets at the counter during their weekly visits to the cinema. “So why can’t I keep the whole thing as pristine movie memorabilia?” he reasoned.
The first untorn movie ticket that Winston managed to collect was from a 1992 screening of action comedy sequel Fight Back To School 2 starring Stephen Chow, at now-defunct Clementi Theatre. (Photo: CNA/Joyee Koo)
To sneak past the ushers with his ticket intact, Chong developed a strategy.
First, target the cinemas on the weekend following a movie premiere. Most people tend to watch a new show then, he recalled.
Second, hang around the entrance to the theatre – specifically, in the middle of the crowd waiting for the usher to let everyone in. Once the doors open, stream in quickly, without calling attention to oneself.
“(My family) will (walk) in front of me. If the usher calls them out, and if they have successfully gone in, I’ll just surrender my own ticket and keep the rest (of their tickets),” he said.
“But it depends: All the stars must align. There must be a sizable crowd; the usher must not be that vigilant; the door cannot be opened too early otherwise there won’t be a crowd anymore.”
Chong had more failures than not, estimating a 20 per cent success rate. But he continued the cheap thrill, simply as his way of holding on to a core memory.
“My family are big movie fans. From a young age, my parents would bring me and my elder sister to the cinema. In those days, children could enter for free. So we’d just sit on the steps while they bought two tickets,” he said.
Winston and his family at the Hollywood Walk of Fame in Los Angeles in 1996. (Photo: Winston Chong)
As he and his sister grew up, they first started by sharing a seat, before eventually getting individual tickets. But through it all, the family's love for Chinese language flicks endured.
“(These movie tickets are) more than just badges of honour from the crazy stunt that I pulled in my youth,” he added.
“They are my time-stamped keepsakes from the 1990s, where I am reminded of the hours spent with my family glued to our cinema seats … watching silver screen icons like Jackie Chan, Chow Yun Fat and Stephen Chow.”
Against the dismal cinema landscape in recent years, however, Chong’s personal souvenirs take on a deeper significance.
His movie tickets from the 1990s are not only a marker of Singapore’s moviegoing culture once in its heyday, but a lesson in what we lose to convenience.
"This is what people in the 1980s and 1990s do for their entertainment. There was no internet. So if you want to watch the latest blockbuster, you have to queue up, buy tickets and just go to the cinema," he said.
On the other hand, watching a movie in 2025 can often feel “transactional”, like a “throwaway" experience, he added.
The biggest shift has undoubtedly been due to streaming services, which let consumers watch movies anytime, anywhere, for a monthly subscription fee that’s sometimes cheaper than a single movie ticket.
This, to Chong, feels like a loss of the quintessential "communal viewing" experience, even though he too has subscription plans to streaming services.
“I liked the experience of just watching a movie together in the hall. During that time, there weren't any pesky mobile phones ringing. You may be distracted by people eating popcorn or talking a bit, but that’s okay. And if something is funny, everyone laughs together."
Part of Winston's collection of 70 untorn movie tickets, which he keeps in pristine condition. (Photo: CNA/Joyee Koo)
But if you still visit the cinema regularly, you may observe that the “evolution of movie tickets closely mirrors the moviegoing experience", as Chong has.
In the 1990s, when he first started his collection, the tickets were marked and distributed by hand. Some of his still retain the ink scribbles of seat numbers, showtimes and prices.
He eventually stopped his collection when cinemas started using thermal paper to print the tickets digitally. No longer did they have "character", and the ink faded so fast that he would have to photocopy the original ticket to keep the details, he said.
Then came the e-ticket, and now, a QR code is all it takes. It's efficient, and that's the issue.
“Similarly, the very concept of a movie premiere might not even happen in a cinema but on a streaming service platform, allowing you to watch the latest blockbuster in the comfort of your own home," he added.
So he accepts that his delight every time he successfully took home an untorn movie ticket may be an experience “those not of my vintage” can't fathom.
“What is a movie poster? What is an album cover? To them, it’s incidental, optional, something to be consumed. But this has shaped how different generations of consumers interact with the arts.”
Winston owns the first and last print issue of Project Eyeball, Streats, The New Paper, My Paper and Today. (Photo: CNA/Joyee Koo)
Singapore's first integrated print and digital newspaper Project Eyeball's first and last issue on Aug 12, 2000, and Jun 28, 2001. (Photo: CNA/Joyee Koo)
English-language broadsheet daily Streats' first and last issue on Sep 2, 2000, and Dec 31, 2004. (Photo: CNA/Joyee Koo)
Singapore's first English-language afternoon tabloid The New Paper's inaugural issue on Jul 26, 1988. (Photo: CNA/Joyee Koo)
In the side bar, a brief editor's note marking the final issue of free bilingual newspaper My Paper on Nov 30, 2016. (Photo: CNA/Joyee Koo)
The final issue of Today's print version on Sep 29, 2017. (Photo: CNA/Joyee Koo)
Of course, Chong’s love for analogue media simply means that vintage movie tickets are but one of his chosen collectibles.
Yet, it’s still a surprise when the self-professed “hard copy person” admits he’s kept the first and last issues of five now-defunct newspapers: Streats, Today, MyPaper, The New Paper and Project Eyeball. (Only Today and The New Paper still continue online.)
“Since young, I wanted to be a journalist,” he said – a dream he fulfilled when he was part of the pioneering team to launch Streats, the English-language daily freesheet that ran from 2000 to 2004.
Naturally, he had an affinity for print publications like newspapers and magazines, and would collect “special editions” of various titles.
“To me, these printed works are the physical achievements from everyone behind the title, from the editors, writers, graphic designers and even sales people filling the ad pages,” he said.
“Even (when I was reading) The Straits Times, I'd just read on the floor. That was my paper-reading habit.”
Young Generation magazine was a staple for children growing up in the 1980s. (Photo: CNA/Joyee Koo)
One of Singapore's longest-running print magazines, 8 Days, was published weekly from 1990 to 2018. (Photo: CNA/Joyee Koo)
Now-defunct Chinese magazine iWeekly's predecessor, Dian Shi Guang Bo, which featured the week's lineup of Chinese TV shows. (Photo: CNA/Joyee Koo)
This appreciation for tactile visual design also shows in his collection of payphone and TransitLink fare cards – which were sometimes used for advertisements.
The payphone cards were once considered “new” and “state-of-the-art”, recalled Chong, who was 10 when Singapore introduced cards for public payphones to complement the coin-operated system.
By the 1990s, these phone cards had become popular collectible items, and he, a budding collector in his teens.
When the MRT opened in 1987, he picked up pocket-sized guides on how to use the public train system, and eventually amassed a selection of TransitLink fare cards. Their designs made them collector’s items too, following their launch in 1991.
“I know that technological advancement will affect our daily lives. But never did I expect that the very concept of phone cards, MRT cards, physical newspapers and cinema tickets would disappear one day,” he added.
“Yet, here we are.”
Vintage TransitLink fare cards and MRT guide books from Winston's collection. (Photo: CNA/Joyee Koo)
Vintage payphone cards from Winston's collection. (Photo: CNA/Joyee Koo)
Chong could probably make a quick buck by cashing in on nostalgia – an accompanying phenomenon to the constant change in Singapore. But he didn’t start his collections with the intention to profit, and doesn't plan to change course.
“These were momentous occasions that happened in my lifetime that were worth remembering. It was more about collecting a piece of local history, which I was fortunate to be a part of in the case of Streats,” he said.
“With physical things, it's more like a memory of what shaped you, what you’ve been through,” he added.
"As we grow older, then space becomes a premium, and it’s not possible to keep so many things. You have to really pick and choose. Luckily for me, these are just paper.”
Continue reading...
It is the 50-year-old’s analogue paraphernalia that gives him away, even though he doesn’t quite have a single object of affection unlike many collectors.
Instead, he has vintage movie tickets, preserved in plastic sleeves. The oldest is from a 1992 screening at now-defunct Clementi Theatre of action comedy sequel Fight Back To School 2 starring Stephen Chow.
He has stacks of long-discontinued newspapers and magazines, once notable titles in Singapore’s publishing history. Some even include his byline from his brief stint as a journalist at the start of his career, now in communications.
And he has binders of payphone cards and TransitLink fare cards. The few still with stored value are unusable as their technology is obsolete.
These artefacts of a bygone era have sat in Chong’s storeroom at home in Clementi, out of sight and out of mind, until a recent documentary compelled him to unearth his mementoes and memories.
He was featured in the third episode of CNA’s On The Red Dot: Museum Of U & Me at the end of September. The five-part series highlights everyday items from Singapore’s past that people have kept.
Some items from the series are now displayed in a pop-up of the same name at the National Museum of Singapore, which runs till Dec 14.
Among those selected: His movie tickets.
Of the 70 untorn movie tickets that Winston's collected since the early 1990s, several are displayed in a photo frame that sits in his study at home. (Photo: CNA/Joyee Koo)
A movie ticket from Aug 14, 1993, in pristine condition. (Photo: CNA/Joyee Koo)
Untorn movie tickets from the 1990s in Winston's collection. These have been preserved in plastic sleeves. (Photo: CNA/Joyee Koo)
SNEAKING PAST USHERS TO KEEP TICKETS UNTORN
Younger generations may not realise the significance of Chong’s ticket collection, but it is the surest sign that he’s not quite the average movie buff.
All of his 70 tickets are untorn – a feat accomplished through luck and skill.
He amassed the lot by slipping into cinemas in his late teens without being detected by ushers at the door, whose job was to tear every patron's tickets upon entry.
Back then, there were no Facebook or Telegram communities selling collectibles, like movie posters. The only thing he could have as a keepsake were tickets.
In any case, his parents had already “paid good money” for the family’s tickets at the counter during their weekly visits to the cinema. “So why can’t I keep the whole thing as pristine movie memorabilia?” he reasoned.
The first untorn movie ticket that Winston managed to collect was from a 1992 screening of action comedy sequel Fight Back To School 2 starring Stephen Chow, at now-defunct Clementi Theatre. (Photo: CNA/Joyee Koo)
To sneak past the ushers with his ticket intact, Chong developed a strategy.
First, target the cinemas on the weekend following a movie premiere. Most people tend to watch a new show then, he recalled.
Second, hang around the entrance to the theatre – specifically, in the middle of the crowd waiting for the usher to let everyone in. Once the doors open, stream in quickly, without calling attention to oneself.
“(My family) will (walk) in front of me. If the usher calls them out, and if they have successfully gone in, I’ll just surrender my own ticket and keep the rest (of their tickets),” he said.
“But it depends: All the stars must align. There must be a sizable crowd; the usher must not be that vigilant; the door cannot be opened too early otherwise there won’t be a crowd anymore.”
Chong had more failures than not, estimating a 20 per cent success rate. But he continued the cheap thrill, simply as his way of holding on to a core memory.
“My family are big movie fans. From a young age, my parents would bring me and my elder sister to the cinema. In those days, children could enter for free. So we’d just sit on the steps while they bought two tickets,” he said.
Winston and his family at the Hollywood Walk of Fame in Los Angeles in 1996. (Photo: Winston Chong)
As he and his sister grew up, they first started by sharing a seat, before eventually getting individual tickets. But through it all, the family's love for Chinese language flicks endured.
“(These movie tickets are) more than just badges of honour from the crazy stunt that I pulled in my youth,” he added.
“They are my time-stamped keepsakes from the 1990s, where I am reminded of the hours spent with my family glued to our cinema seats … watching silver screen icons like Jackie Chan, Chow Yun Fat and Stephen Chow.”
FROM PHYSICAL MOVIE TICKET TO QR CODE
Against the dismal cinema landscape in recent years, however, Chong’s personal souvenirs take on a deeper significance.
His movie tickets from the 1990s are not only a marker of Singapore’s moviegoing culture once in its heyday, but a lesson in what we lose to convenience.
"This is what people in the 1980s and 1990s do for their entertainment. There was no internet. So if you want to watch the latest blockbuster, you have to queue up, buy tickets and just go to the cinema," he said.
On the other hand, watching a movie in 2025 can often feel “transactional”, like a “throwaway" experience, he added.
The biggest shift has undoubtedly been due to streaming services, which let consumers watch movies anytime, anywhere, for a monthly subscription fee that’s sometimes cheaper than a single movie ticket.
This, to Chong, feels like a loss of the quintessential "communal viewing" experience, even though he too has subscription plans to streaming services.
“I liked the experience of just watching a movie together in the hall. During that time, there weren't any pesky mobile phones ringing. You may be distracted by people eating popcorn or talking a bit, but that’s okay. And if something is funny, everyone laughs together."
Part of Winston's collection of 70 untorn movie tickets, which he keeps in pristine condition. (Photo: CNA/Joyee Koo)
But if you still visit the cinema regularly, you may observe that the “evolution of movie tickets closely mirrors the moviegoing experience", as Chong has.
In the 1990s, when he first started his collection, the tickets were marked and distributed by hand. Some of his still retain the ink scribbles of seat numbers, showtimes and prices.
He eventually stopped his collection when cinemas started using thermal paper to print the tickets digitally. No longer did they have "character", and the ink faded so fast that he would have to photocopy the original ticket to keep the details, he said.
Then came the e-ticket, and now, a QR code is all it takes. It's efficient, and that's the issue.
“Similarly, the very concept of a movie premiere might not even happen in a cinema but on a streaming service platform, allowing you to watch the latest blockbuster in the comfort of your own home," he added.
So he accepts that his delight every time he successfully took home an untorn movie ticket may be an experience “those not of my vintage” can't fathom.
“What is a movie poster? What is an album cover? To them, it’s incidental, optional, something to be consumed. But this has shaped how different generations of consumers interact with the arts.”
Winston owns the first and last print issue of Project Eyeball, Streats, The New Paper, My Paper and Today. (Photo: CNA/Joyee Koo)
Singapore's first integrated print and digital newspaper Project Eyeball's first and last issue on Aug 12, 2000, and Jun 28, 2001. (Photo: CNA/Joyee Koo)
English-language broadsheet daily Streats' first and last issue on Sep 2, 2000, and Dec 31, 2004. (Photo: CNA/Joyee Koo)
Singapore's first English-language afternoon tabloid The New Paper's inaugural issue on Jul 26, 1988. (Photo: CNA/Joyee Koo)
In the side bar, a brief editor's note marking the final issue of free bilingual newspaper My Paper on Nov 30, 2016. (Photo: CNA/Joyee Koo)
The final issue of Today's print version on Sep 29, 2017. (Photo: CNA/Joyee Koo)
NEWSPAPERS AND MAGAZINES, PAYPHONE AND TRANSITLINK CARDS
Of course, Chong’s love for analogue media simply means that vintage movie tickets are but one of his chosen collectibles.
Yet, it’s still a surprise when the self-professed “hard copy person” admits he’s kept the first and last issues of five now-defunct newspapers: Streats, Today, MyPaper, The New Paper and Project Eyeball. (Only Today and The New Paper still continue online.)
“Since young, I wanted to be a journalist,” he said – a dream he fulfilled when he was part of the pioneering team to launch Streats, the English-language daily freesheet that ran from 2000 to 2004.
Naturally, he had an affinity for print publications like newspapers and magazines, and would collect “special editions” of various titles.
“To me, these printed works are the physical achievements from everyone behind the title, from the editors, writers, graphic designers and even sales people filling the ad pages,” he said.
“Even (when I was reading) The Straits Times, I'd just read on the floor. That was my paper-reading habit.”
Young Generation magazine was a staple for children growing up in the 1980s. (Photo: CNA/Joyee Koo)
One of Singapore's longest-running print magazines, 8 Days, was published weekly from 1990 to 2018. (Photo: CNA/Joyee Koo)
Now-defunct Chinese magazine iWeekly's predecessor, Dian Shi Guang Bo, which featured the week's lineup of Chinese TV shows. (Photo: CNA/Joyee Koo)
This appreciation for tactile visual design also shows in his collection of payphone and TransitLink fare cards – which were sometimes used for advertisements.
The payphone cards were once considered “new” and “state-of-the-art”, recalled Chong, who was 10 when Singapore introduced cards for public payphones to complement the coin-operated system.
By the 1990s, these phone cards had become popular collectible items, and he, a budding collector in his teens.
When the MRT opened in 1987, he picked up pocket-sized guides on how to use the public train system, and eventually amassed a selection of TransitLink fare cards. Their designs made them collector’s items too, following their launch in 1991.
“I know that technological advancement will affect our daily lives. But never did I expect that the very concept of phone cards, MRT cards, physical newspapers and cinema tickets would disappear one day,” he added.
“Yet, here we are.”
Vintage TransitLink fare cards and MRT guide books from Winston's collection. (Photo: CNA/Joyee Koo)
Vintage payphone cards from Winston's collection. (Photo: CNA/Joyee Koo)
Chong could probably make a quick buck by cashing in on nostalgia – an accompanying phenomenon to the constant change in Singapore. But he didn’t start his collections with the intention to profit, and doesn't plan to change course.
“These were momentous occasions that happened in my lifetime that were worth remembering. It was more about collecting a piece of local history, which I was fortunate to be a part of in the case of Streats,” he said.
“With physical things, it's more like a memory of what shaped you, what you’ve been through,” he added.
"As we grow older, then space becomes a premium, and it’s not possible to keep so many things. You have to really pick and choose. Luckily for me, these are just paper.”
Continue reading...