Ooi’s 3-year-old business, ‘Nicki Ooi Structural Integration Practitioner’, has relied heavily on social media for marketing, but the response has been slow.

“It is still the personal touch, face-to-face interaction and client referrals that make up the bulk of the business,” said the 44-year-old. The unique nature of Ooi’s one-woman business demonstrates the limits of social media for small businesses that require a more personal “practitioner-client” relationship.

“With Structural Integration (SI), it’s a ‘trust’ process,” she said. “The client has to trust and feel confident to be able to stand in front of me in their undergarments in order for me to do a full body analysis on their postures and their movements to determine areas of restrictions in their bodies.”

SI is the creation of an American biochemist professor, Ida Rolf, over 50 years ago. Unlike chiropractic therapy that focuses on bone alignment and joints, SI involves the realignment of deeper connective tissues that surround and support bones and joins. The web of connective tissues, when aligned properly will support a good body posture. SI addresses the body pains and aches that arise from the poor posture by realigning and strengthening tissues. In Malaysia, Ooi is only one of six certified practitioners.

Client Lawrence Ang, 56, is a frequent business traveler. He comes to see Ooi because he has chronic shoulder pain from carrying his computer bag.

At Ooi’s brightly lit office, Ang lies face up on a massage table. Like many other clients, his first 90-minute session– out of a 10-session series was filled with pain.

As Ooi ‘worked’ on Ang, she pressed and kneaded away his tension and aches in deep long strokes, almost as if she were ironing out his connective tissues. An hour and a half later, Ang felt as if his rib cage had opened up. “I did feel more alert. Maybe cause I was more aware to be sitting upright, therefore I could breathe better.”

“It is very gratifying to see my clients leave, feeling better,” said Ooi.

Impressed by the vaunted effects of SI, Ang signed up his wife and one of his two daughters, each on a 10-hour series, and shared his experience via mass-email to his contact list.

“Confidence is something you can’t fake and with Nicki, I believe that is something that really comes across,” said Ang.

A former advertising executive who had senior roles at several international agencies, Ooi left her 15-year corporate career to pursue her passion. A yoga and Tai Chi enthusiast, she has always been interested in ways to heal the physical body and “how to get it to function better”.

Fascinated with SI’s effects on body posture, she attended three different schools in the USA – The Rolf Institute in Boulder, Colorado, Sedona School of Massage in Arizona and The Guild for Structural Integration in Boulder and Kauai – “to learn the different development and approaches to SI”.

Over two years, she refined her palpation, body viewing and analysis skills and extensively studied the human anatomy, physiology and kinesiology, qualifying her as a practitioner.

With an intimate therapy such as SI, Ooi said, “many clients, are more influenced by their friends – or people in whose opinion they trust – than paid advertisement.”

“Facebook served as a good media of awareness to this part of the world where SI is a relatively new therapy,” she said. “Although, enquiries from complete strangers via my Facebook page have been slow in converting into actual new business.”

According to Dr. Carol Tan, entrepreneurship lecturer at RMIT University, apart from providing a valuable product or service, building real relationships with customers is a key element of success for small businesses.

“Despite a growing number of entrepreneurs using social media as a vital part of their marketing strategy, many successful owners still agree that there is no substitute for personal contact,” Dr. Tan said.

Each session with Ooi costs RM250 (approximately USD82), while in the US, Ooi said practitioners charge between USD100 and USD250 per session.

Available by appointment only, Ooi works on 20-plus clients weekly, ranging between the ages 11 and 92.

“Many people have a lot of pain, in one form or another,” Ooi said.

With growing legions of laptop users across Malaysia, Ang’s problem, the slumped posture resulting from hours of hunching over notebook computer keyboards, has accelerated into the domain of the everyday city workers, she added.

Canadian-trained Dr Barry Kluner, a leading Kuala Lumpur-based chiropractor believes that the opportunities in this business area are compelling “because it does look at things in a complete concept.”

“But the trend of SI boom (in Malaysia) can only happen if they are more people with proper credentials.”

“In this wellness industry, marketing is unique because it is about educating the patients,” said Ooi.

With the backbone of her business and her differentiating factor – her confidence in her hands – Ooi makes it her priority to “continue to conduct workshops on the importance of good postures and how SI can help educate the body to re-organise and rebalance itself… Also, by meeting potential clients face-to-face, they can direct any concerns to me there and then”.

The 30-something manager with limited vision works for Troels H. Povlsen Care Apparel Centre — a unique boutique that designs and creates functional yet fashionable clothes for the disabled and elderly.  It’s a first, not only in Hong Kong but also in Asia.

Some of the centre’s merchandise includes pants with built-in colostomy bags, non-skid socks and raincoats for wheelchair users. It customises clothes and accessories so that people with special needs can dress stylishly with little or no help.

Nestled in a corner of Hong Kong Polytechnic University (PolyU) in Kowloon, the centre works in collaboration with the university’s Textiles and Clothing Institute. It relies on the institute’s staff and students for research, financial support, organisation of charity events and volunteers.

The Care Apparel Centre, established in 2007, was the brainchild of Dr Frency Ng, an Assistant Professor at the Institute of Textiles and Clothing.

Seeing old and disabled people wear worn out and uncomfortable clothes in Hong Kong sparked the idea. It’s named after a Danish businessman, who donated US$3.3 million.

The concept of adaptive clothing, though popular in developed Western countries, is new to Asia.  Figures suggest that specialized clothes have a huge market in Asia. According to United Nations, there will be 857 million Asians over the age of 65 by 2050.

“The clothes in the market here do not meet the requirements of people with special needs,” said Rita Chan, who is one of the centre’s four volunteers but is not related to Teddy Chan.  “If you just make some alteration to clothes, it can help people enhance their daily lives.”

Care Apparel’s merchandise is reasonably priced, so the profit margins are low.

A pair of trousers with an inseam opening that makes them easier to wear, for example, sells for HK$150. A Chinese-style cotton floral top with Velcro at the back is priced at $80. There are need-based discounts of up to 40% available for customers as well.

Materials for products are bought from low-priced fabric stores in Sham Sui Po to cut down on costs, according to the administrator. Sometimes people donate fabrics to the centre.

But Care Apparel is struggling, said Dr Patrick Hui, the centre’s Associate Director. The little-known center cannot advertise or expand its work due to limited resources.

“Promoting the concept of adaptive clothing for the disabled and elderly is hard due to financial constraints,” said Hui, who is also an Assistant Professor at PolyU.

Businessmen and companies have offered to buy the center or work with it, said Rita Chan. They were turned down because university policy discourages private ownership. This comes with being part of a university, she said.

“We haven’t received any support from the government,” said Chan. “Lack of funds is becoming a hindrance to our mission. We have to prioritize what we want to do in a limited budget. Educating others about adaptive clothing is at the top of the list.”

The centre reaches out to its target market mainly through seminars. They are usually conducted at homes for the elderly and non-profit organizations. These include the St. James’ Settlement and Kwai Shing East Rhenish Care and Attention Home.

On an average Teddy Chan said that he tries to organize at least three seminars each month, depending on the availability of funds and volunteers. Chan’s visual impairment requires him to be accompanied by a volunteer.

Slides and demonstrations are used at seminars to inform caretakers on how to dress up the elderly and disabled. Some clothes are donated to the organisations and orders for more are taken.

Events like fashion shows and clothes designing competitions are held at PolyU to attract donations. They are however, limited in scope and hardly advertised outside the university.

The centre cannot afford to hire new staff. Multitasking is commonly seen at the place. Teddy Chan takes on the role of an event manager and photographer, when need be.

There are three other full-time employees — two tailors and one administrator. All are disabled. The centre follows a policy of employing people.

Despite dwindling financial resources, working for a good cause is what keeps the employees motivated.

“I get satisfaction from working here because I get to help people, “said Teddy Chan. He works six days a week for nine hours each day on an average.

A customer said she too was satisfied by her experience with the centre.

“I will come back,” said Mrs Lam, a new customer. “My occupational therapist told me about it and I really like their products. It’s also a good deal. Just $50 for three pairs of anti-slip socks.”

Whiting is a general manager at RaptorVision Media, a Hong Kong-based and mostly overseas financed company, providing virtual tours, aerial photography and panoramic imagery, helping clients to present their products without leaving the office.

“We provide content for websites, essentially we specialize in virtual photography, 360-degree and 720-degree rotations of rooms and products,” said Whiting.

He decided to pursue this potentially huge, yet largely untapped market after graduating from the university.

The team consists of a small team of creative individuals in their 20s with different skill sets, priding themselves on using cutting edge technology.

“We aim to run our company very efficiently, keeping cost down and have high profit margins,” Whiting says.

“Virtual tours have been on the market for three years,” Whiting continued, “but what we provide is virtual reality, which uses high-quality photography, has lightning fast loading speeds and [can be viewed] full screen.”

Their customers range anywhere from clubs, factories, restaurants, real estate companies, virtually anyone who has anything to show off on their website that can use a picture, only with a promise to do it better.

“By e-mailing virtual tours directly to our clients, they are able to get the real feel for the property, eradicating the need for private tours which are time consuming for both us and our clients,” said Melvin Byres, Manager of Thistle Apartments, a former client.

Because aggressively advertising online, most customers tend to approach them. After researching the company, the give a presentation to show how they can improve the customer’s visual impact of the existing marketing campaigns.

“We believe that most of the time, the product will speak for itself,” Whiting said.

Clients are mostly worried about the technical issues, so the main part is providing after-service tech support.

Production begins with onsite shooting, using high-quality cameras and special tripods that allow taking 360-degree photos. Shooting takes them only 15 minutes, so not to disturb the client’s location.

Next, the designers run the raw material through six to seven different programs to achieve the final product.

They aim to have the finished product within a week.

“A quick turnaround is a good selling point for potential clients,” Whiting adds.

The direct competition to RaptorVision Media in Hong Kong and in Southeast Asia comes mostly from photographers.

Adding interactive elements within their products, Whiting believes that this adds a level of personalization that is unachievable by regular photography.

Indirect competition comes from Google Street View but because Google focuses on the public sector and RaptorVision Media on the private, it actually adds more demand for their business as Google Street View gains more publicity.

Although already having a strong foothold in the market, the team is always looking for innovative technologies in which to invest and improve their product.

They are currently in the process of developing the technology for full-body human rotations, in order to vastly improve the online clothing shopping experience as well as production rotations for high-end commodities such as jewellery.

Although keeping their headquarters in Hong Kong for the time being, their next step is moving their operations to Singapore, in an effort to expand their business across Southeast Asia.

Established in 1986, Sri Nonya is a family-run restaurant that serves mouth-watering Penang Nonya cuisine, made from recipes that have been handed down over generations.

“What we are cooking today are recipes of my wife’s grandmother, which have been handed down over the last four generations and, usually, to the best cook of the family,” said James Kuok, the founder of Sri Nonya.

As a result of inter-marriage between the local Malays and Chinese immigrants approximately 400 years ago, Nonya food, also known as Straits Chinese food, was born. It is an eclectic blend of Chinese and Malay cooking and often requires hours upon hours of preparation, usually involving the elaborate blending of spices and herbs to create the perfect sauce for each and every dish.

Most visitors, frequent or new, to Sri Nonya have a tendency to leave as satisfied customers.

“I enjoy Sri Nonya food as it is very authentic in its cooking,” said Son Boy Au, 56, one of those statisfied customers. “This is my second time here and I hope to bring more friends the next time I come!”

Dishes such as nasi ulam, a traditional herb rice salad, or beef rendang, a type of beef curry, are popular.

The fame of Sri Nonya’s beef rendang has spread in Hong Kong. It’s served at the Aberdeen Marina Club (AMC), one of the city’s most exclusive private clubs.

A few years ago, the AMC organised a Nonya food promotion  and heard about Sri Nonya through word-of-mouth. Kuok and his wife were invited to perform several cooking demonstrations at the club.

“My wife and I cooked around 15 to 20 dishes and have done this either once or twice at the club,” said Kuok. “AMC has been using the rendang recipe for more than two years now.”

Angela Lee, 27, a member of the AMC, is a fan. “I love Malaysian food, especially the curries!” said Lee. “When I saw that they served beef rendang at Aberdeen Marina (Club), I had to try it. It was very fragrant and delicious.”

Kuok’s mother-in-law decided to pass the recipes on to him as he is known to be “the best cook in the family” and as a result, he decided to open Sri Nonya in her memory.

The restaurant, nestled in a housing estate filled with decades-old homes, remains low-profile after all these years, depending solely on word-of-mouth publicity and online marketing –- a website and Facebook page.

“I’m very lucky as I have customers who are very loyal from around the area. They come and bring their friends from quite a wide cross-section, who have the spending power,” said Kuok. “We also have a website, which is cost-effective and a Facebook page.”

Kuok, who is very particular about hygiene, has always remained skeptical about relocating to a more centralised location, including large shopping malls.

“We are particular about cleanliness and air-conditioning. Unlike malls, here we have temperature-sensitive air-cons, filtered water and even a fly-proof kitchen!” said Kuok. “And I bought this place so I am my own landlord. I don’t have to worry about rent.”

All that matters for Sri Nonya is to spread awareness of Penang Nonya food. Despite having established a name for his restaurant in Malaysia and Hong Kong, he has no aspirations to expand his operations.

“This is my hobby,” he said. “It doesn’t matter if we break even every year. I’d actually be very happy if my building of ten years appreciates in value and that would be my actual profit.”

Profit-driven or not, the business has done rather well so far.

A few minutes in the roaster, the beans begin to take on a darker shade. After a few more minutes, they start to crackle and pop.

“The Brazil should be ready just before the second crack,” says Jason Moses, one of the co-founders of Glory Coffee, as he carefully monitors and records the temperature in an Excel spreadsheet. The Brazilian beans are just one of the 32 varieties Glory Coffee sells on its online store.

Founded in 2008 by Moses, 32, and his partner and fiancée, Gloria So, 29, Glory Coffee is a coffee retailer and wholesaler, equipment vendor, as well as a barista training center. “We’re everything coffee,” says So.

Prior to setting up shop in Hong Kong, they both worked in the trade for many years in Sydney, Australia, where there is a well-established coffee culture. They refer to their coffee as artisanal, using higher grade beans and prepared differently than the typical bitter roasts that are used widely in Hong Kong’s restaurants and hotels.

Artisanal coffee is a “young and specialized industry,” said Moses. In a city where the ubiquitous caffeinated drink is milk tea and coffee with evaporated milk, Glory Coffee and other specialty coffee businesses have the challenge of convincing customers that they want better quality coffee, even if that means paying a premium.

The bulk of their revenue is from wholesale, barista training courses, and the occasional sales of espresso machines. One of their biggest wholesale clients is the Time Warner office in Hong Kong. They also supply to a few cake shops, restaurants and cafes. Retail sales are very low, only about 40 to 50 orders a month, and most of those came from Westerners.

“Volume is less than what we’re used to,” says Moses. “But it is picking up as well.”

But for a small business, they had to fork over hefty up-front costs.

“We have not (reached) breakeven yet because all the equipment cost so much,” says So. Their roaster alone costs HK$500,000. Each of the four espresso machines they use for training costs $30,000, not to mention the recent renovation of their showroom.

Without big coffee bean importers in Hong Kong, the roasters turned to where they know best – Sydney. They buy their raw beans from a large distributor in Australia every couple months. According to So, that supplier alone stores more coffee in its warehouse than what Hong Kong drinks in a whole year.

Moses and So also run a 40 square-foot café in Causeway Bay, a busy shopping district, which sells coffee drinks as well as beans. The tiny space, which could only fit a picnic-size table, means that customers are not encouraged to linger.

“We envisaged it as a takeaway place,” said Moses. “The reality is people don’t want takeaway coffee in Hong Kong.”

For many, having coffee is a social activity or an afternoon tea break, and not a daily necessity. Felicia Chan, 25, a finance analyst, is a repeat customer of Café Corridor, a similar specialty coffee shop. “I usually go there to wait for friends. I sit down and read with my coffee.”

“I think the coffee is pretty fresh,” Chan said. “It’s different than Starbucks and Pacific Coffee. It doesn’t have that sour aftertaste.”

Café Corridor is the retail store of Coffee Assembly, also a specialty coffee roaster whose warehouse is just right across the street from Glory Coffee.

“They also recently started their own barista training academy as well,” says So. “There are a lot of aspects of our businesses that are starting to clash.”

But it seems it’s all friendly competition. The real competition is large chains like Starbucks and Pacific Coffee, says So. To ramp up their retail sales, a new store opening is slated for next month in Mongkok, another high-traffic area. They are also looking to open a café in Central to target office workers who are more likely to buy takeaway coffee.

“We try to grow with heart,” So said. “And it’s hard.”

Yeeshan Yang, a veteran industry insider, says film productions here are hidden inside a “black box” when it comes to selecting their leading actors, actresses, crew members and even extras. She is in the first stages of launching an online database, CastDifferent, that she says would make film casting more transparent. But there are two challenges: She first has to raise capital, then she must defeat widespread opposition in the movie business, she said.

“In the industry here, we don’t have this position of casting director,” Yang said.

CastDifferent is based on a business model that’s working well in the U.K., Yang says. Overseas, online services such as Casting Call Pro compile profiles of actors and other industry workers onto a database that is accessed by production companies and casting agents. The websites are like a JobsDB.com for film professionals, although in this case the job seekers pay. The membership fee is HK$100 a year, which Yang calls low compared with what some scouting agents charge. At this stage, film companies don’t have to pay to access the database and view member profiles, but Yang plans on charging them eventually.

The purpose of CastDifferent is to level the playing field; talent and portfolios would count more than money, according to Yang. Currently, big celebrities drive the industry in Hong Kong because they have the connections and clout, she says. “The movie stars are very spoiled, and they create barriers for new actors, new talent to enter the business.”

Bey Logan, a film producer and screenwriter who worked on “The Medallion” and “The Twins Effect,” says: “We need young blood.”

“The major problem in Hong Kong is the absence of young talent who can take over the industry from actors like Jet Li, Jackie Chan, Tony Leung – who are all around 50,” he adds.

In casting his film projects, Logan says he has never encountered what Yang calls the “black box.” Before founding B&E Productions in 2009, Logan worked for Emperor Motion Picture Group and was the vice president of Asia for the Weinstein Co.

Yang hopes CastDifferent will succeed not only because she says it has the potential of changing an industry, but also because she has a lot riding on it.

So far, Yang has poured HK$500,000 of her savings into her business idea since she launched it in August. She says she needs more capital – about HK$4 million –to keep it going.

She has approached several government departments and investors for funding and has received favorable responses. “The government also thinks this is a good idea. It’s good for the industry; it’s good for the society,” Yang says.

“In the film business, we have 500,000 people looking for jobs,” she says. “The current number [of members] is not enough to change the industry.”

CastDifferent is already online, but there are only 70 member profiles, many of them directors and actors in Hong Kong or Beijing. Yang’s target number is 50,000 members.

Her biggest opposition remains the film industry. Her adversaries aren’t just people at the top, such as directors and producers; they are at every level. Those who stand to earn the biggest profits will lose the most if CastDifferent were to succeed, she says.

Patrick Frater, chief executive of Film Business Asia and a former Variety journalist, says an online database for casting may work in Hong Kong. But, he adds, “what works in the U.K. can’t necessarily be applied in Hong Kong because there is a different system here.”

Plus, he says, a talent database already exists online. It’s called Alivenotdead.com.

That site invites artists to create profiles and connect with one another and fans; actor Daniel Wu is one of its most prominent and active members.

Logan used the Alivenotdead.com network to cast his leading lady in his current project, “Snowblade.”

“The site is great, but it needs more direct connections with the industry,” he says. Alivenotdead.com acts more as a community of artists than as an industry tool.

“I use Alivenotdead, Facebook and three or four online platforms… but there is definitely room for improvement,” Logan says. “It would be good to have a site that acts as a casting director to sift through the oddballs – with the Internet, you never know what you’ll get.”

Yang, who is in her late 40s and whose film credits are also under the name Elsa Chan, has been a screenwriter for 12 years. She entered Hong Kong’s film industry when she was asked to adapt her book “From the Queen to the Chief Executive.”

“Before that, I did business, so I understand that world,” she says. “To become a scriptwriter, you have to have business sense.”

The job is “20% writing and 80% selling,” as Yang puts it.

When “All About Love” was written many years ago, it couldn’t sell, Yang said. The script – partly set on the Mid-Levels escalators of Soho – is about two lesbian lovers who meet again after both get pregnant on short flings with men. She sold it years later after director Ann Hui approached her.

“Usually you have the script written 10, 20 years ago, and you can never sell it – but maybe when the time comes, when the market is ripe, when the investor comes, you can sell it,” Yang says.

Perhaps that’s a lesson Yang can apply to her CastDifferent venture. Changing Hong Kong’s film casting process from the inside may be her biggest sales pitch yet.

“I’m a big comic book fan, so the first thing I’m looking for is how comics are going to fit on here,” he said.

The result is Super Kaiju Hero Force, Crispy Entertainment’s original comic book series available as a free app for the iPod, iPhone and iPad.

The series is about a trio of suburban American fanboys who win a trip to visit the set of their favorite superhero show in Japan, where an accident transforms them into some of the characters. The writing employs Pixar- and Simpsons-style humor, with jokes for both children and adults.

Lau and series co-creator Jeff Kwan, who are both in their thirties, had previously pitched Super Kaiju Hero Force to an animation company. When that didn’t go anywhere, they adapted their idea for the iPhone, writing the script together.

Rather than developing digital products for established film and television characters, Crispy Entertainment and similar companies are doing the reverse — creating new brands on mobile devices and then expanding into more traditional formats.

The best example, Lau said, is Angry Birds, a wildly popular smartphone game that is now being turned into a television series.

“The landscape is changing for media,” he said. “It’s being put in the hands of anybody. If you have a good idea, you can do it.”

Entertainment blogs have applauded Crispy Entertainment for producing original comics formatted specifically for the iPhone, rather than simply scanning printed comic book pages and shrinking them down as others have done.

“Since Super Hero Kaiju Force was designed for the iPhone, the screen size made us reconsider how to lay out the story,” Kwan said in an e-mail. “Obviously, to show a standard comic page of nine panels would make for a very small viewing experience. We also decided to have shorter chapters, which is something that is not traditionally done with comics.”

The biggest challenge, Kwan said, was keeping the dialogue short enough to fit inside one or two panels per screen. But customers seem to appreciate the effort.

“The story line is a little too childish for my liking, but I can see that kids could really enjoy this,” said one customer review on iTunes. “The text is easily readable. The comic is formatted very well for the iPhone.”

Super Kaiju Hero Force currently breaks even on advertising revenue, Lau said. It also contains numerous product placements, from Yahoo! Japan to Mos Burger, which Lau had hoped would be another source of funding. The companies didn’t bite, but Lau left them in as jokes and pop culture references.

The comic is advertised mainly through social media like Facebook and Twitter, as well as in online comic forums.

“The most important thing is to get the eyeballs, get people to know the brand,” Lau said. “It doesn’t matter how.”

The idea is to build a fan base for Super Kaiju Hero Force and then develop games, merchandise or even a live-action show for an audience eager to buy.

Crispy Entertainment is a lean start-up with low overhead and minimal staff. Lau works out of an office in Times Square where he runs his other business, a blog network called Popcorn Media. But he said Crispy Entertainment is basically headquartered in his laptop.

“Everybody I work with is virtual,” Lau said. “So from accountants to lawyers to writers to artists to programmers, everybody does not work in the same office as I do.”

Kwan, for example, is based in Vancouver, where Lau is also originally from.

“The programmers are here, but the artists are in like Australia or Indonesia,” Lau said. “They’re all over the place.”

Lau originally called his company Crispy Comics, he said, because he thought it sounded funny and was easy to understand. But now it’s turning into something more, hence the name change. Aside from building its own brands, Crispy Entertainment is raising funds to acquire licenses for properties like Star Wars, Harry Potter and Hello Kitty in order to develop games and other apps. Lau has brought on a new partner in Los Angeles to help.

“We’re trying to morph Crispy into basically being the best app developer for kids,” he said.

The target audience is kids ages 3 to 11, primarily in the U.S. but with an eye on the Chinese market. Lau said right now he is more concerned with developing apps in Chinese and other Asian languages than expanding to other mobile devices such as the Android, whose users don’t buy as many applications.

But of course that could change. Lau said start-ups like Crispy Entertainment have to be flexible enough to adapt their strategy as new technology and opportunities appear. In 2009, when the first issue of Super Kaiju Hero Force was released, the iPad wasn’t even in stores (Lau encases his iPad in a custom Super Kaiju Hero Force cover).

“The app market, the smartphone market, the tablet market is still growing, so people are still trying to find business models for these things,” he said.

But is something lost from the comic book experience without the community of a neighborhood shop? Kwan and Lau don’t think so. Kwan noted that not everyone lives near a comic book store, but anyone with an Internet connection can access digital comics.

And while digital comics will probably drive most physical stores out of business, Lau said, some will survive with a new purpose. In a digital world, comic book fans can still visit stores to watch trailers, buy merchandise and get recommendations from staff and other customers.

“It’s like the bookstores, too, they’re going to change. When you go to a bookstore like Barnes & Noble in the future, there will probably be somebody at the front to greet you: ‘What would you like to download today?’” he said. “All these stores will be showrooms.”

Kwan agreed that there would always be some demand for physical stores.

“Ultimately, I think that print — while shrinking in some respects — and digital media will reach an equilibrium in which both can coexist,” he said.

The single-page magazine began publishing in 2010, originally billed as a  “Fake Literary Magazine.” Its contents typically consist of just 60 to 80 intriguing sentences themed on a particular word. Up to 160,000 copies of the monthly magazine have been sold in Hong Kong within a year.

“We never imagined our magazine could draw so much attention in Hong Kong,” said Ka-Ho Yiu, better known as Bu, one of the founders of Blackpaper and also a DJ at Commercial Radio. “In fact, we have only printed 2,000 pieces in the first month of last year. As soon as the magazines were sold out, we had to overprint. Then sold out, and overprinted,” Bu said.

The production team of Blackpaper is formed by Seven Chan, a DJ from Commercial Radio, Roy Lam, a lyricist who was previously a DJ from Commercial Radio, and Bu. The three good friends’ original thought was to create Blackpaper just as an excuse for getting together.

“We have come up with many different ideas about what we were going to do during our gathering, but unfortunately we are too busy to do a blockbuster other than our own jobs. A one-page production is the only thing we can do in our spare time. So there came Blackpaper,” said Bu.

Bu said he hoped Blackpaper could enrich the cultural diversity of Hong Kong’s society. “In Japan, even a leaflet in metro can be creative and inspiring. ”

Inside the literary Blackpaper, swarms of words about critics of the current social phenomena and funny sentences could be read. Bu said approximately 10,000 to 20,000 issues are sold per month.

“I have bought a couple Blackpaper as soon as the magazine was launched. Some are for myself to collect and others for my friends,” said Orchid Zhang, 23, a student who is studying law at the Chinese University of Hong Kong.

Zhang said she was a 10-year fan of Commercial Radio and that is one of the reasons she bought the magazine.

“I often hear the DJs’ promotion of Blackpaper when I am listening to the radio,” said Zhang. “I am attracted by its content and am curious about the next issue when Bu advertises it in his radio program.”

The HK$1 magazine, with its distinctive layout, was initially available in just seven locations, including book store Kubrick, furniture shop G.O.D and creative social enterprise SkyHigh.

Bu said the reason why they set the price at HK$1 rather than put it online for free was because they didn’t want their efforts to be in vain. “Writing is of value. Nowadays the Internet is flooded with too much information that people can’t tell the good from the bad. Actually HK$1 is only a symbolic cost.”

Along with the new year of 2011, Blackpaper had a “facelift” with a new tagline, “Fake Entertainment Magazine”, and a new retailing partner, the world’s largest chain convenience 7-Eleven, with a sharp increase of selling locations up to 1,000.

Kain Fok, 19, a form-five student from Macau, left a message on the Blackpaper’s Facebook page complaining that she couldn’t buy the magazine in Macau.

Fok said she heard about Blackpaper from another magazine and was impressed by its interesting way of turning common things around. “I haven’t bought one yet because they don’t sell the magazine in Macau. And it was sold out quickly in Hong Kong,” said Fok.

When asked about the reasons for the magazine’s popularity, Bu said one is that the writing style of Blackpaper appeals to the current generation. “Every sentence in our magazine is short, just like status updates in Facebook and words in microblog.”

Siu-Wa Tang, an editor of Hong Kong-based literary magazine Fleurs des Lettres and a DJ from Radio Television Hong Kong, said the popular renown of DJ Bu and Seven Chan are the factors behind Blackpaper’s success with readers. “What’s more, Blackpaper itself caters to Hong Kong people because it is cheap, thin, light and [written in] short [sentences],” Tang said.

According to Blackpaper’s owners, they are still losing money on the business.

“But our purpose of creating the magazine is not to earn money. This is our hobby project and we just do it for fun,” said Bu.

A Blackpaper Bookset, which contains 12 issues of last year, is now on sale in Hong Kong. But Blackpaper’s ambitions don’t stop there. “We are exploring cooperation with some local fashion brands and even [thinking about] a music concert now,” Bu said.

“If the treatments aren’t effective, you might as well close down your business,” said Choy, a 29-year-old acupuncturist at the Pang Shan Sanctum clinic. That is what he was taught 18 years ago, at the age of 11. Choy makes up half of the manpower at the modest clinic; the other half is from his mentor, instructor and boss – his father. Choy said the father-to-son tradition has also been with the family for a long time – over 400 years. A tradition that is likely to stay.

According to Choy, his ancestors first started the Pang Shan Sanctum clinic in 1587 in China and he is now the 14th generation to take up the physician role. Originally from Quanzhou of the Fujian province in China, Choy said his father has been ‘healing’ in this clinic since 1993 – the year his father migrated to Hong Kong. And years before that, he said his father also practiced western medicine in China, with credentials recognized only in mainland China.

The clinic, however, is anything but westernized. Hidden in To Kwa Wan, one of the most run-down districts on the Kowloon peninsula,  the only way to learn about the place is by word of mouth. Advertisements are nowhere to be found. The one sign that distinguishes the clinic from other units, in the dilapidated residential building, is a red sticker by the door that reads “Choy” in Chinese.

Despite the lack of marketing, however, business has been good. “A few years ago when the economy was at its peak, you would have to make a reservation days in advance,” said Choy as he rubbed a homemade herbal medicine onto a patient’s lower back. The medicine is also heated to help blood circulation for the acupuncture that is administered afterwards.

Jerry Cheung, a patient with chronic back pain, said his wife had learnt about the clinic from a former classmate. “This is my fourth visit,” said Cheung. “I was told that [Choy] works miracles and charges very reasonably.”

For a one-and-a-half hour acupuncture session, Choy and his father charge HK$220 per patient. Although that is a 10 percent jump from 2010, it is still relatively cheap. “Everything is pricier these days. We have to cover our costs,” Choy explained. “Most of the cost goes to the homemade medicine where a little bit of musk is added. It costs as much as ginseng these days.”

To provide a yardstick as to how much other clinics are charging, a 30-minute acupuncture session at the Hong Kong Acupuncture and Moxibustion Association (HKAMA) costs HK$350. A 15- to 45-minute consultation/treatment session at Dr. Claudia Ng’s clinic in Central costs anywhere from HK$600 to HK$1,000.

However, there is a catch. According to the Chinese Medicine Council of Hong Kong, there are now 6,245 registered Chinese medicine practitioners in Hong Kong. Neither Choy’s nor his father’s name is on the list. In other words, under Hong Kong’s law, they are not registered physicians and there is technically no guarantee of their methods and skills. Since they’re unregistered, they can’t take credit cards nor give receipts for insurance reimbursements. Hence rule number two.

Customers are not exactly concerned, however.

“As long as [Choy] can help alleviate my back pain, I will always come back,” said Cheung.

Another customer, who identified herself as Mrs. Shum, said: “I brought my friend here today, she has been plagued by a shoulder problem, probably from typing too often.” Her friend has never tried acupuncture before but is open to any treatment.

Choy said there are “a lot of” these unregistered clinics in Hong Kong, and competition is “fierce.”

“Along this strip alone, there are ten or eleven similar clinics,” he said. “Not counting the four to five licensed ones at ground-level.”

Dr. Chan Ka Chak, chairman of the HKAMA and a registered Chinese medicine practitioner, said: “I believe there is market demand for [non-licensed acupuncturists] as they charge a much lower fee.”

Since 2000, the Chinese Medicine Council of Hong Kong has made registration mandatory to become a licensed Chinese medicine physician.

“The government has introduced a five-year programme for these prospective doctors in order to standardize their qualifications. But for many unlicensed doctors who were already practicing, it’s impossible for them to take five years off to take the programme,” said Chan. “Many talented physicians go unnoticed because of that.”

Although lacking a license to practice in Hong Kong, Choy said he had no doubt his revenue was larger than many acupuncturists with license. “A few of [the licensed doctors] will refer patients to me,” said Choy. “Especially the complicated cases because these doctors don’t have the required skill set.”

Despite the high demand, Choy said assertively that he had never considered expanding. “To expand means we need extra manpower, which will compromise the quality of our treatments,” he said. “We are known for delivering sound treatments, and it will continue to be that way.”

OPS has four training rooms spread across three floors in a nondescript office building in Central.  The studio has standard gym equipment, such as a treadmill, a rowing machine, and dumbbells, but there are also unfamiliar objects with exotic names: ViPRs, kettle bells, Gravity machines.  A whole room is dedicated to vibrating platforms known as PowerPlates.  In the wrong hands, these devices could cause real physical harm, but ensuring they are used correctly is part of the mission of the gym.  In fact, education was its principal goal.

“OPS started as a result of what I felt was the need [...] for education,” said owner Kevin Rushton.  Rushton, a 47-year-old Canadian with a Masters degree in Sports Management from Victoria University, Australia, also owns a fitness equipment distribution business.  He used to lug bulky products all over Hong Kong to run workshops on how to use them, but realised there was a better approach.  OPS was conceived as a fixed location to host these seminars and run other training for fitness professionals.

“No-one was actively doing education [...] so we set the studio up with that in mind,” said Rushton.  “But as we looked into the market, there was really no option for trainers to train outside of a commercial venue, unless they were travelling around, house to house, home to home, or using residential facilities.”  So when Rushton opened OPS in 2005, he started renting spare studio time to freelance personal trainers, charging a fixed hourly fee to use the space and any of the equipment in the gym.  Over time, this became more than just a sideline: today, the business makes as much money from personal training as it does from education.

There is no membership system at OPS: people can only work out under the one-on-one supervision of a personal trainer.  The trainers are responsible for finding clients, bringing them to the studio to work out, and collecting payment.  OPS deals only with the trainers.  But even if you are a client of a trainer, you might still not get to work out when you want.  OPS doesn’t allow more than six people at a time – three trainers, three clients – in any of its rooms.

It may seem counter-intuitive for the business to constrain itself this way, but this is part of its appeal.  “I strongly recommend OPS for people who don’t react well to traditional gyms,” said David Olds, a 39-year-old lawyer who has used the gym since 2007.  Traditional gyms can be intimidating, he said, but because OPS is private, and has fewer people, it’s much friendlier.

Olds is a client of Muk Venkataraman, 30, head trainer of Elite Fitness & Conditioning.  Venkataraman uses the gym almost exclusively for his clients.  “Location-wise it’s fantastic,” he said.  “It’s close to IFC, it’s pretty much the same distance to Cheung Kong.  For people up in Midlevels, it works well for them.”  Olds, his client, lives in Midlevels and works in Central, and cited the Stanley Street location as a big advantage of OPS.

The gym is well established in the building, Rushton said, so if his rent is hiked he would increase rates for trainers rather than move, even though it could drive some trainers away.  There are other private studios in Central, he said, though they tend to be more focused on martial arts and without the variety of equipment OPS provides.

Venkataraman said OPS has everything he needs, and his clients are also satisfied but for one common complaint: the changing rooms are small and basic.  Larger gyms like PURE have spacious changing rooms with spa-type features, but OPS isn’t big enough to justify these and so doesn’t compete with their facilities.

“Where we do compete is on the level of trainer we have,” said Rushton.  “But that’s not me!  That’s the hard part.”  He doesn’t choose the trainers in his gym – they’re his paying customers – but if they aren’t good enough to attract and retain their own clients, he loses out.

So while training may have started as a sideline, having the best possible trainers at OPS is important for Rushton.  Other than ensuring trainers have a certification he trusts, he doesn’t evaluate or manage them – the connection with the education side of his business creates a self-selecting effect in the gym.  “The fact that we run education, it puts more pressure on a trainer here,” he said.  As OPS brings in new equipment and runs education workshops, trainers learn new skills and incorporate them in their sessions with clients.  Other clients in the gym then ask their trainers about these innovations.  “If they can’t explain it to a client, they’ll be in a world of hurt here,” he said.

In this way, said Rushton, peer pressure forces all the trainers working in the studio to know how to use the latest products and newest techniques, or they won’t prosper.

So at this gym, it’s survival of the fittest – but for the trainers.