Chinese shops: debate on low-cost prices and quality

Chinese shops are no longer so cheap: prices are rising and quality is in doubt

The average price of drapery products in neighborhood Chinese shops has ceased to be the draw it once was. The perception that all-for-ten-cent shops run by Chinese merchants have raised their prices has settled among consumers, who also question the quality of what they buy. One user summarizes it bluntly: “today I went to buy at a Chinese shop again... don’t you notice that Chinese shops have raised their prices a lot?” The doubt is no longer whether they are cheap, but whether they still are and at what cost.

The conversation starts with a direct question about drapery products — bleach, air fresheners, ammonia — that have traditionally been the hook for these establishments. The majority answer points out that the price advantage has narrowed compared to supermarket own brands and German discount chains. “Cleaning products are more expensive than supermarket own brands”, says one participant who also shares direct experience: he ran an all-for-ten-cent shop and found some items were more profitable at Lidl than at usual distributors in the sector.

Aluminum foil that cost 0.60 euros and that which cost 1.80

Labeling tricks are one of the most concrete findings of the exchange. The same aluminum foil and clear film were sold in two versions: one to market at 0.60 euros and another at 1.80 euros. The difference was not in the material, but in the number printed on the cardboard — a “15” on the cheap roll — indicating the actual length of the roll. The buyer paid three times more for the same product with different packaging.

The margin breakdown provided by someone who owned a multi-price shop dispels the idea that the merchant who sells cheaper is the one who earns more. The product sold for 0.60 euros was bought for 0.41 plus the 4% surcharge. The one offered at 1.80 euros was acquired for 1.35. The sector, concludes, “is ruinous today”: a decade ago, one made good money, but the saturation of Chinese shops on every corner has compressed margins until they became unsustainable.

Why do Chinese shops raise prices if their advantage was price?

The most repeated explanation points to a two-phase strategy. First, ruin local commerce with prices below cost. Then, once competition is eliminated, control the market and raise prices. “Chinese shops are using a certain tactic consisting first of ruining all local merchants with their low prices”, suggests one participant, who acknowledges that assuming a coordinated strategy among all Chinese merchants in Spain may be “a very conspiratorial theory.” Another frames it as a substitution dynamic: all-for-ten-cent shops run by Spaniards have been falling one after another, swept away by Chinese shops, which now occupy the space without the pressure of those competitors.

The argument of unfair competition appears insistently, albeit with nuances. It is mentioned that shops do not respect the hours established by the municipal ordinance, are not registered in Social Security, and sell expired products. Against this, another participant dispels the legend that they do not pay taxes: there is a 1992 treaty to avoid double taxation, similar to that signed with other countries, and if the company is based in Spain, it pays taxes in Spain. The accusation of generalized tax fraud remains, therefore, in the air.

Quality: from the dripping cake mold to the 35-euro suitcase

Testimonials on product quality are devastating in some cases and surprisingly positive in others. One participant recounts buying dismountable cake molds and, upon pouring the liquid, found it leaked everywhere: “that thing was made like hell”. Another person says she stopped buying more than a year ago because everything she bought broke after four days and she had to buy it again. Clothes end up, according to another testimonial, “like kitchen or cleaning rags when I wash the car.”

However, there are notable exceptions. Plastic food containers — tupperware and táperes — are made in Spain and are one of the few things worth buying, according to several participants. One user details that he has 17 stackable Ikea containers, with airtight closures, made in Italy, for less than 20 cents each. The paradox is that the cheap and good product does not come from China, but from Europe. Nail polishes of a specific brand, scouring pads, and halogen bulbs also make the cut to get out of a pinch.

Suitcases: 35 euros in the bazaar vs. 60 in Spanish store

Price comparison for suitcases is one of the few direct calculation exercises in the conversation. A simple brand suitcase, with the same number of wheels and similar capacity, cost 60 euros in a Spanish store and 35 euros in a Chinese bazaar. The difference is substantial, but the buyer wonders if durability justifies the savings. Another participant recommends brands like Roncato or Samsonite, “truly expensive but with superior and lasting quality,” and points out that in Barcelona’s Encants market, the suitcases sold by Chinese vendors were 8 euros for the small one and 12 or 14 for the large one.

Footwear is another hot spot. One user recounts that shoes bought for 10 euros in a hypermarket developed holes after two weeks of use, when previously similar shoes lasted two summers. “Chinese footwear is very dangerous”, sentences another, who recommends keeping distance from shoe shops of this type. The shared conclusion is that these establishments serve to get out of a pinch — toilet paper on a Sunday afternoon, glue, batteries — but not for planned purchases.

Why are there no Chinese shops in Germany like in Spain?

The question about the absence of Chinese shops in Germany receives disparate answers. One theory holds that Germany does not let Chinese products pass without safety, health, and quality controls, and none pass, so they are diverted to Spain. Another participant rebuts that Germany sells the same Chinese junk with the same CE marking, and the difference is that there the low-cost commercial spectrum is occupied by Turks. A third points out that Germany does not need Chinese shops because they already have Lidl. The anecdote of a traveler who found only one comparable shop in Berlin, run by Germans with leftover national stock, reinforces the idea that the bazaar model is specifically Spanish.

The background of the exchange is a tension running through the entire debate: the individual convenience of saving a few euros versus the collective cost of destroying local commerce and the industrial fabric. “If I buy from Chinese shops, I contribute to the destruction of Spanish commerce”, summarizes one participant, adding the ruin of Social Security and tax fraud as consequences. The response from another is equally blunt: a true lonchafinista does not enter the Chinese shop, because it is the low-cost version of consumerism.

The question remains open: if prices are no longer so low and quality remains doubtful, what sustains the model?