Category: Stamps

A stamp has one obvious job. These five leave collectors wondering whether they ever got the chance to do it.

This set comes from the turbulent years following the Russian Revolution. Often described as ‘White Russian’ stamps, they are associated with General Bułak-Bałachowicz’s forces and were produced in Latvia in 1920. Their inscription reads ‘Asobny Atrad’, or ‘Special Detachment’, with the initials of the Belarusian People’s Republic beneath the illustration. Each stamp carries the same scene, printed in a different colour and value: 5, 10, 15 and 50 kopecks, and one rouble. The set pictured here has straight, hand-cut edges rather than perforations.

The stamps have appeared in books and catalogues for years, but their precise status remains a subject of debate. Were they made for limited use by the detachment, or were they principally labels intended to raise support and spread its message? That uncertainty is what makes them interesting. This unused set is valued at around £15. A convincing example used on an original envelope would be a very different find. It could offer evidence that the stamps actually travelled through the post, as well as a glimpse of where the letter went and who handled it.

For now, these five little pieces of paper carry a story rather than a letter: one of conflict, competing claims and a postal question collectors would love to answer. Come and see what stories are waiting to be found at Charing Cross Collectors Market this Saturday.

With the cost of sending a First Class letter or card now £1.80, here’s a way to make posting something a little more interesting and, potentially, quite a bit cheaper.

Many dealers at Charing Cross Collectors Market sell unused older commemorative stamps in quantity for around half their face value. And although they may have been issued decades ago, these special stamps can still be used for postage today.

Simply combine enough valid stamps for their printed values to add up to the postage required.

It’s something stamp auction houses have long done when sending out their catalogues, but there’s no reason collectors can’t have a bit of fun with it too.

A birthday or Christmas card covered with colourful old stamps immediately looks more special than one carrying a single modern stamp. Better still, you can choose designs that mean something to the person receiving it.

Someone interested in naval history might appreciate an HMS Warspite stamp. A music lover could receive one featuring Elgar, Handel or Holst. Others might recognise old British Council designs, textiles, Scouting or a host of other subjects commemorated by Royal Mail over the years.

It turns the envelope into part of the present and gives those unused stamps a purpose beyond sitting in a stock book.

And who knows? An interesting stamp arriving through the letterbox might even be enough to start a new collector off.

In philately, not everything that looks like a stamp was created to carry the post.

A Cinderella stamp is a small, usually perforated and gummed label designed to resemble a postage stamp, but with no official postal value. These labels have been produced around the world for advertising, fundraising, education, promotion and political propaganda.

On their own, many Cinderellas are relatively inexpensive. Found attached to an original letter or cover, however, they can add valuable historical context, visual interest and sometimes considerable extra value.

The group pictured includes six labels representing former Imperial German colonies and territories: Karolinen, Kamerun, Kiautschou, the Marshall Islands, Togo and German New Guinea. Each uses the same striking design, with a steamship at sea and the German imperial naval ensign in the foreground. Different colours distinguish the individual territories.

There is also a pleasing connection between their German subject and the name given to this branch of collecting. The Brothers Grimm published their version of Cinderella, Aschenputtel, in Children’s and Household Tales in 1812.

The other two labels show how Cinderellas could serve very different purposes during the First World War.

The purple St Dunstan’s label carries the appeal “Their Sight for Us, Our Help for Them”. It was produced to support the organisation’s work caring for servicemen who had lost their sight.

The far darker “Kultur Has Passed Here” label is a piece of anti-German propaganda. A mother and child lie beneath a burning town as an airship passes overhead, while a winged hourglass suggests that time is running out.

Neither label could have carried a letter. Yet both carried a powerful message, showing why Cinderella stamps can offer such a fascinating glimpse into the politics, causes and concerns of their time.

Stamps have long carried messages far beyond their face value. In times of conflict, they often became small but powerful tools of persuasion, identity, and morale – a role that reached new intensity during the Second World War.

These Polish issues, produced in London between 1941 and 1944, were created by the government-in-exile and tell a story of a nation fighting on, even while occupied at home. Each design captures a different theatre of war or branch of service, from air battles over the Atlantic to naval operations and armoured campaigns across Europe and beyond.

There is a deliberate sense of progression. Early scenes reflect the defence of Poland and the reorganisation of forces abroad, while later stamps show Polish troops integrated into Allied efforts across multiple fronts. The message is clear: Poland had not fallen silent – it had simply moved.

What gives the set its emotional weight, however, is its symbolism. These are not just records of events, but carefully composed statements of resilience and unity, intended to reach both allies and a dispersed national audience.

That symbolism finds its clearest expression in the final image of the Warsaw Uprising of 1944. Behind the fighters rises the ‘Maid of Warsaw’, shield raised in defiance. This same figure appears here in textile form – a simple badge, yet one loaded with meaning.

In both ink and thread, the message is the same: the idea of Poland endured.

Tucked inside a small homemade envelope from 1937 sits a lovely snapshot of collecting history. The pencilled note on the front tells you everything you need to know about its maker: careful, organised, and quietly proud of their find. Inside are five Brazilian 1000 Réis stamps, each overprinted “1899”, each neatly used, and each marked as a duplicate. Even duplicates were treasured enough to file away.

The envelope itself is almost as interesting as the stamps. In tidy handwriting, the original collector recorded the perforation gauge, the issue, and even the going rate at the time. At 2 shillings and sixpence each, these would have felt like something rather special in pre war London. For context, £100 in 1937 has the same purchasing power as roughly £8,700 today. It gives a sense of how dear a few shillings could feel in a hobbyist’s pocket.

Fast forward nearly a century and the picture looks very different. Collecting tastes shift, supply opens up, and what was once a prized duplicate can now be found for just a few pounds. That contrast is part of the charm. It reminds us that the real value of older collections often lies not just in catalogue numbers but in the care someone took to preserve a moment in time. A simple envelope and five brown stamps telling a story across generations.

To the untrained eye, they’re almost invisible. But look closely at these Edwardian stamps and you’ll spot one of the era’s more elegant acts of postal espionage: anti-counterfeiting watermarks.

Introduced as a quiet defence against forgery, these watermarks were pressed into the paper before printing – a subtle but effective deterrent for would-be scammers looking to cheat the system. Some feature simple initials like “E R” or crown motifs; others show wavy line patterns designed to frustrate replication attempts.

Collectors prize these marks not only for their historical function, but for the insight they give into the printing methods and security priorities of the early 1900s. They’re also a handy way to distinguish between stamp variants that may look identical at first glance.

Watermarks were a big deal in the Edwardian period, and spotting a crisp, well-positioned one today can elevate a stamp from ordinary to truly collectable.

Most people think stamp collecting is all about the front – the portraits, the postmarks, the perforations. But turn them over, and there’s a hidden world waiting.

In an early bid to fight forgery – much like today’s banknotes – postal authorities introduced watermarks. They’ve been quietly tucked into stamp paper from the start, and spotting them can be half the fun.

Take the four Edwardian 6d Nigerian stamps shown here: a crisp crown and monogram watermark sits clearly behind King Edward’s portrait. On the 1910 South African 2½d stamp, the watermark is more elusive – look just right of centre and you might glimpse a faint rose. And the Indian issues? They feature a star outline, but it takes a keen eye (and good light) to catch it.

Early South African stamps even used the head of a springbok – a fitting nod to their local wildlife – in watermark form. And that’s just scratching the surface. Hundreds of historic watermarks are out there, quietly revealing another layer of the story.

Among British stamps, few carry the weight (literally and figuratively) of the King George V Seahorses. Issued between 1913 and 1939, these high-value definitives were anything but ordinary. Their bold, allegorical design features Britannia riding the waves with her trident, shield, and a pair of spirited seahorses, while King George V looks on in dignified profile.

Designed by Bertram Mackennal and engraved by J.A.C. Harrison, they’re widely considered some of the finest British stamps ever issued. But their real appeal lies in the subtle variations. Different printers (Waterlow, De La Rue, and Bradbury Wilkinson) created slight changes in paper, colour, and watermark, all of which keep collectors on their toes.

Denominations ranged from half a crown (2/6) to the mighty £1 green – a serious sum in 1913, when it first appeared. To put it in context, £1 then could buy you about 120 pints of beer. And for many, the £1 Seahorse remains the crown jewel of early 20th-century British philately.

These stamps weren’t just decorative. They were used on heavy parcels and foreign mail, often emerging from the post battered but still majestic. A well-used Seahorse tells its own story. Whether you’re hunting printer variants or just admiring the artistry, these stamps are pure class on paper.

From the mid-1800s onward, the humble Penny Red has been overlooked in the shadow of its elder sibling, the iconic (and pricier!) Penny Black. But that’s great news for budding collectors—you can build an impressive Victorian-era correspondence collection without breaking the bank.

A quirky fact: the first “letters” under flat-rate postage had to be folded from a single sheet (forming the envelope itself). The Victorians got creative with visible wax seals on the outside (and sneaky hidden ones inside) to deter prying eyes.

Collector’s Tip: Resist the urge to “refold” these old covers. Most were torn open on arrival and are delicate—a gentle approach preserves history (and their value).

Ready to start your own “affordable” journey into philately? Penny Reds are the perfect gateway into a captivating world of postal history!