Imagine waking up before dawn, huddled with strangers outside a metro station, all eyes glued to your phones, waiting for a single Instagram post that could send you sprinting through the city. This isn’t a scene from a thriller—it’s the reality of 'Pindemonium' sweeping Milano Cortina during the 2026 Winter Olympics. But here’s where it gets controversial: is this a brilliant way to explore a city, or a time-consuming obsession? Let’s dive in.
Every morning in Milan, a dedicated group of collectors gathers, eagerly awaiting the daily drop of highly coveted, limited-edition Olympic pins. These aren’t just any pins—they’re free, but only if you’re fast enough. Take Ilaria Pasqua, an English teacher who’s been rising at the crack of dawn since Saturday to snag pins from YesMilano, the city’s promotional agency. Her goal? To complete a collection representing seven neighborhoods and five iconic landmarks, like the majestic Duomo. Pasqua has even teamed up with fellow collectors she met on day one, devising a strategy to stay ahead of the game.
'It might seem extreme,' Pasqua admits, 'but it’s not just about the pins. It’s about the people you meet, the city you discover, and the little treasures you take home.' For her, it’s a social adventure, a unique way to connect with Milan’s hidden gems. But not everyone sees it this way—some might call it a frenzy. What do you think? Is this a fun way to engage with the Olympics, or a step too far?
Pin collecting isn’t just a Milano Cortina phenomenon; it’s a global Olympic subculture. Enthusiasts travel far and wide to add to their collections, often amassing thousands of enamel pins. For those who prefer a more structured approach, Milan has introduced the first official pin trading center since Pyeongchang 2018, sponsored by Warner Brothers. Here, kids can meet Looney Tunes characters, while serious traders from the U.S., Japan, and beyond display their wares. Eddie Schneider, a collector from New York with 25,000 pins, compares it to 'attending a World’s Fair every two years.' But even in this world, controversy lurks: which pins are truly valuable? Japanese media pins are prized for their rarity, but in Cortina, Iran pins were the hot ticket, and in Paris, Snoop Dogg’s pins stole the show.
Official pins feature the Milan Cortina 26 logo and Olympic rings, produced exclusively by Honav, the rights-holder for these Games. 'Pins without these features have zero value,' says Honav’s owner, Mario Simonson. But here’s the part most people miss: the International Olympic Committee collects royalties for every pin sold. Is this a fair system, or does it exploit collectors’ passion?
Take Josh Waller, a 21-year-old Londoner who started collecting at age eight and now owns over 10,000 pins. He calls it 'Pindemonium,' and his award-winning collection includes vintage London Olympic pins. Waller even developed software to authenticate high-value pins, a testament to the seriousness of this hobby. But as pin trading goes digital, with online groups booming post-Tokyo Games, is the tradition losing its personal touch?
Meanwhile, YesMilano’s campaign has exceeded expectations, drawing crowds to under-visited neighborhoods and landmarks. On the first day, over 1,000 people flocked to the NOLO district; the next day, 600 lined up at Torre Velasca. Latecomers receive stickers, but pins can be purchased for 20 euros—double the initial price due to demand. Beatrice Biondi, a university student from Varese, woke up at 6:30 a.m. to secure her spot at Sforza Castle. 'We had to run, but it was worth it,' she said. But is this frenzy sustainable, or just a passing fad?
As collectors crisscross Milan in pursuit of the full YesMilano set, one question remains: is this a celebration of Olympic spirit, or a commercialized treasure hunt? Let us know in the comments—are you team 'pin-crazy' or team 'pass'?
