The Russian foreman barked orders, cigarette dangling, as hammers clashed and saws screeched through plywood. The exhibition hall was a swirling haze of cigarette smoke and frantic labor. We had just landed in Nuremberg, dragging our displays across continents into the maelstrom of a trade show setup. The halls stank of sweat, nicotine, and ambition.
We had been invited by our German friends at MBK to share a portion of their booth, and we brought the best we had—Aoshima and Dspiae. The first challenge was setting up. Our displays, battered by travel and baggage handlers, needed assembly, polishing, and positioning. But by the time the hall lights brightened and the first waves of attendees surged through the doors, we were ready.
Each day was a whirlwind of conversations, handshakes, and the sharp thrill of business being done. It became apparent quickly: the military plastic model industry is far from dead. The new Das Werk model kits drew in store owners from across Europe, hungry to stock their shelves with these meticulously crafted models. Orders were placed, deals struck, and the hum of excitement was palpable.
[Das Werk 1/16th Scale Leopard 2]
Then there was Aoshima. Despite being a century-old brand, it had an almost mythic quality among European enthusiasts. The supply of Aoshima kits in this part of the world had been a drought, and we were the first drops of rain. JDM cars, in the land of Mercedes, Audis, and BMWs, were still highly sought after. Our Snap Kit display drew serious attention—so much so that a major European drug chain is testing them in 30 stores. The idea of walking into a pharmacy and grabbing a model kit along with your toothpaste? A wild concept, but one we’re excited to see unfold.
And then there was Dspiae. If Aoshima was a legend rediscovered, Dspiae was an alien artifact landing in the middle of the show floor. No one had seen tools like these before—the precision, the sleek design, the sheer elegance of their function. A shop owner from Monza, Italy, looked at the lineup, nodded slowly, and muttered something about Ferraris. "The Ferraris of tools," he said in Italian, reverently. And that was it. The buzz was electric, the word spread, and soon, we had people lining up just to hold them, to feel the weight, to see the razor-sharp edges glint under the fluorescent lights.
Somewhere in the madness, between meetings and hurried sandwiches, I had a moment of clarity. This industry, this strange little niche world of plastic and resin, paint and glue—it’s alive. It’s not just alive; it’s thriving. There’s something about seeing people from every corner of the world gathered in one place, eyes lighting up over a perfectly molded sprue or a new tool that changes the way they work. It reminds you why you started in the first place.
[Das Werk Sd. Kfz. 250 /1 Ausf. A]
As we packed up, exhausted but exhilarated, I looked around at the remnants of the show. Empty booths, discarded brochures, the distant echoes of forklifts beginning the dismantling process. Trade shows are strange beasts—they come alive in a frenzy, burn hot and fast, and then vanish as if they were never there. But the conversations, the connections, the deals—they linger.
So here’s to the next one. And if nothing else, at least I now know that even in Germany, surrounded by the finest engineering the world has to offer, people still crave a good old-fashioned Skyline GT-R.
[New Release: Tamiya Porsche 962C and Tamiya French Light Tank H39]
[New Das Werk Messerschmitt P. 1101]
