Rubber Ducks of Split, Croatia

Last weekend, I traveled to Split, Croatia, to see the historic remains of Diocletian's Palace and the beautiful nature surrounding the city. As I wandered through the old town center, a shop kept catching my eye. It was dedicated solely to selling rubber ducks. These rubber ducks were not inexpensive, with prices starting above €10. Seeing one store in the city center made sense, but I quickly encountered three more stores, all within 0.25 miles of each other. The obvious reason for the proliferation of rubber duck shops is the tourist desire to obtain a souvenir that reminds them of their vacation. However, I found it unclear why rubber ducks have enough popularity to warrant four separate stores in such close proximity.

My investigation into this consumer good began with conversations with employees at these stores. One employee mentioned that tourists like to buy the ducks because they are cute and funny, but they have no historical connection to Split, Croatia. Another employee explained that the ducks are sourced from a German company, Lilalu, located in Aachen, which specializes in yellow rubber ducks. The cost to produce one rubber duck ranges from €0.50 to €2, meaning the stores are marking up the price by a factor of five. This calculation does not include shipping costs, but due to their lightweight and small size, supply chain costs would be lower, especially considering EU trading tariffs. Financially, Lilalu struggled during the pandemic, with earnings below €200K; however, from 2021 to 2022, the company saw its earnings rise to over €300K each year. This increase in revenue was positively correlated with the rise in total assets. The ebb and flow of tourism is the lifeblood of the rubber duck shop industry.

Tourism in Split is closely linked to the cruise line sector. According to an article from Yahoo Finance, Filip Perkon, a rubber duck businessman, states that a cultural event takes place on every cruise ship: the hiding of rubber ducks around the ship for others to find. My understanding of the emergence of four stores in Split stems from this small cultural custom among cruise ship passengers. Children lack the purchasing power to desire a rubber duck, which for many adults evokes childhood memories of rubber ducks in the bathtub. Tourists primarily buy ducks for their collections, as small gifts for children, or as part of the popular practice of hiding ducks on ships.

Following cultural customs can be a lucrative business strategy, but it poses risks in the long term. Sustaining rubber duck shops in Split and other cities may be a façade that will fade within the next 20 years. Just as postcards, shot glasses, and magnets have become ubiquitous in tourist shops, rubber ducks may soon follow suit—perhaps even sooner, due to their lack of originality and connection to the local culture. Snow globes are the outdated counterparts to the appealing rubber duck. The only way for rubber ducks to remain relevant is to innovate and find originality. Would you be willing to buy a rubber duck? Have you ever purchased a rubber duck in connection with cruise ship culture?