When your apartment is a warehouse rather than a home, then you are a welcome member of the club. In Hong Kong, space is small, appallingly small. The unanticipated hero slips there, that is where 黃竹坑迷你倉 came. Just imagine it to be your attic without the dust and without the spiders. Check this out!

Until the time one attempts to locate that winter jacket covered by ten years of junk, people do not realize how much clutter accumulates in their homes. You do not need to chuck those with ministorage at Wong Chuk Hang. You just tuck them away. Your living room is twice as big as it used to be, like magic.

One of my friends attempted to keep all the things in her hallway closet. In two weeks the vacuum was forced behind four fans that were shattered and a package of tangled Christmas lights. She gave in. Rented a unit. She is now a minimalist – at home anyway.

Let’s talk flexibility. You’re moving? Downsizing? Staging your flat for sale? It is possible to plan a sabbatical in Thailand? Such storage increases or decreases in size as you need. Some use it as a temporary fix. Some of them are clinging to their units like a second wardrobe. Whatever floats your boat.

And by the way, it is not only about piling up old CDs and high school trophies. Inventory is stashed by small business owners. Musicians store equipment. Bikers leave their road bikes in safe places without them being arranged into the living room. It is more of a Swiss Army knife of space issues.

Security? Solid. Admission is tougher than an invitation only club during a Saturday evening. Climate control? The old mirror at your grand-mother will not be melted into a puddle. Accessibility? It is not a treasure map that you require but a code.

And here is a funny one, somebody rented a unit to store sneakers. More than 200 of them (paired) all posing as though they were about to shoot a perfume commercial. Is that not the highest urban culture of storing?