“People just look cool playing it,” says Angie Lin, when asked what drew her to mahjong. As one of the quartet of women known as the Mahjong Mistresses, Lin helped bring the game to the LA party scene in 2022. She’s since quit her “cushtie” job in tech to start her own club, East Never Loses, which specialises in private mahjong nights, tutoring and events across the city, from music venue Jianghu to Hauser & Wirth.
Mahjong, loosely translated as “sparrow” in southern Chinese dialect, is steeped in ritual and ceremony. Said to have originated in the mid-1800s around the Yangtze River, the game spread via sailors around China, although there are claims it was played as early as the 1600s on trade voyages. It was popularised in the west by Joseph Babcock, a Shanghai-based American, in the early 20th century, eventually becoming a huge craze in the 1920s, particularly among women. Today there are differing regional variations; it’s usually the Hong Kong version that’s played internationally. There are myriad ways of scoring so, as Lin says, “the first rule of mahjong is that house rules apply”.
An Asian American of Taiwanese heritage, Lin remembers mahjong being played “in the background” of her childhood. It was only in 2019, when working in Taiwan, that she begged friends to teach her how to play. Around this time Julia Roberts hyped the game on The Late Show, and Crazy Rich Asians came out. “I saw it in the movie,” says Lin – the film’s emotional climax is played out over a mahjong game. Soon, she was up until 5am playing it. Mahjong is addictive, and surprisingly easy to learn. “Basically, you’re trying to complete a winning hand,” she says. “You take tiles in and discard tiles out, pruning your hand until you have complete sets and a pair. The first player with a full hand wins.”
Part of the current appeal lies in the beauty of the domino-sized pieces. These are divided into suits (the circle, character and bamboo tiles), honours (dragons and winds), seasons and flowers. Each player has their favourites, each family their nicknames. In the past these were typically made of bamboo dovetailed with cow bone, and in some cases mother-of-pearl, ceramic, jade or ivorine. “Never ivory,” says antique games specialist Luke Honey, who has been in the business for more than 30 years.
Antique sets are now highly collectable, with prices depending on the material, condition and quality of the carving. Provenance can also make a difference – Honey recalls a jade set in a silk box, formerly owned by Princess Elisabeth of Greece, selling for £9,000 at Bonhams in 2011. For the classic 1920s bone and bamboo sets, he suggests a budget of around £650. “You might find them from £250 at local auctions, but you need to know they’re in good order. With a reputable dealer you might pay anywhere from £600 to £1,000.” Honey sources sets for clients, while Vinterior is currently selling a 1910 Hamleys London set made from mahogany wood for £1,150.
Newer mahjong sets are typically made from resin or plastic. There’s a sliding scale from the luxury sets by Prada (£5,500) and Louis Vuitton (£48,000) to the mass-market designs featuring Hello Kitty and Disney. Those wanting to invest in craftsmanship should consult George Ng of Karen Aruba Art in Hong Kong, a company continuing a family tradition of mahjong-making. Handcarved and handpainted, its acrylic tiles feature contemporary designs inspired by the nations of the world – the UK set features a cricket bat and football goal. Its latest edition is a set of black tiles with red and silver detailing. Each set (from about £775) takes four to five months to fulfil and can be sent all over the world.
Artemest, meanwhile, stocks a range of off-the-shelf sets, all of which are crafted in Italy. A powder-blue set by Genoa-based Giobagnara (£2,410) comes in a leather case with Bakelite tiles, while another by Pinetti, a design atelier in Bergamo, comes with walnut-wood racks for displaying tiles (£2,110). “They’re really popular, especially as gifts,” says Artemest’s Lucrezia Doria.
Links to gambling mean mahjong has passed in and out of favour; it was outlawed in China from 1949 to 1985. Often it’s played at home, behind closed doors, with small bets placed between family members.
“We play for the equivalent of 10¢ per point,” says Subhas Kandasamy, founder of The Mahjong Palace, New York, who grew up in Singapore and learnt to play as a child. “Asian culture is non-verbal,” he says, “so the way you show someone you love them is to invite them over for a meal and play mahjong with them.”
Kandasamy launched The Mahjong Palace in September 2024 with two aims in mind: to champion small galleries and to build a community in New York. He recently ran an event with Studio Ashby in London, and in March he hosted a mahjong night for Ai Weiwei, “a huge fan of the game”, around his exhibition at the Faurschou Foundation, New York.
There’s a waiting list for these events that draw a crowd of “tech people, finance bros and a lot of people from the art world”. Three-quarters of them are complete beginners. “You can tell someone’s personality within half an hour of playing mahjong with them,” says Kandasamy. People have “made friends, been on dates and even done business” with those they’ve met at his tables.
David Chu was similarly “looking for community and a sense of belonging” when he discovered the Four Winds mahjong club in London. Meeting on Saturdays at the ESEA Community Centre in Hackney, it’s relaxed and friendly, drawing in a new generation of players from all backgrounds. Chu now runs the Sik Faan Cafe in Kentish Town, specialising in Cantonese food and mahjong. Rice bowls and bao buns break up the two-and-a-half-hour sessions, where lots are learning the game for the first time. “Mahjong looks intimidating,” says Chu, “but once people grasp it, they’re hooked.”
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