Seeing a hedge fund manager talk about spinning tops with the same seriousness he saves for municipal bonds is almost humorous. However, this is increasingly the case at some auction previews, where a hand-carved wooden dreidel from a Polish shtetl or a 19th-century silver dreidel from Galicia attracts the same level of attention as rare coins and fine watches.
The four-sided tops used in the Hanukkah game of chance, known as antique dreidels, have subtly emerged as one of the more unusual additions to the discussion of alternative assets. Without a doubt, the market is small. However, it’s expanding, and buyers aren’t just sentimental grandparents wishing to relive their youth. Many collectors are looking for the next obscure category after filling their portfolios with vintage watches or rare coins.
Scarcity, which is a factor in all collectibles markets, contributes to the appeal. There are extremely few dreidels made prior to World War II, especially those made by Jewish craftspeople in Eastern Europe. During the twentieth century’s upheavals, many were lost, melted down, or just did not survive. Beyond the object itself, what’s left has weight. A silver dreidel with a family name or a community mark engraved on it is more than just a game piece; it’s a piece of a lost world, and buyers seem to value that history just as much as the metal content.
Auction houses have begun to take notice. When provenance can be linked to a recognized workshop or a documented family, pieces that were previously sold discreetly within Judaica circles for a few hundred dollars are now occasionally selling for five figures. It is still far below the prices that vintage Ferraris or rare timepieces fetch, and it most likely never will be. The market is too tiny, too thin, and too reliant on a small number of serious consumers. However, it is evident that for some time now, demand has exceeded supply within that pool.
Not to be overlooked is a generational perspective. In collecting circles, discussions about wealth transfer typically center on art or vintage automobiles, but Judaica in general, including dreidels, has begun to appear in those same estate planning conversations. Families who are clinging to heirloom items are becoming aware that they have actual market value in addition to sentimental significance. Because fewer pieces end up being sold off carelessly or undervalued at estate sales, awareness alone tends to drive up prices.
It is reasonable for skeptics to point out that illiquidity is a serious issue in this situation. Selling a rare dreidel requires the right buyer, the right auction, and the ideal time of year associated with Hanukkah interest spikes; it’s not like liquidating a stock position. Since replicas and items from later eras can occasionally be mistaken for older ones, authentication can also be challenging. Dreidels are not an exception to this type of risk associated with nearly every niche collectible.
Even so, it’s difficult to ignore the pattern emerging. For the past ten years, wealthy collectors have been investing in wine, watches, coins, and comic books, partially in search of returns and partially in search of significance. Dreidels was a particularly good fit for that second impulse. It’s genuinely unclear if they will ever become a popular alternative asset. However, in some quarters of the collecting community, a tiny wooden top is now valued more as a tiny, spinning piece of history than as a toy.