It's just an old scrap of paper, faded and mutilated. It's been described as resembling a wine stain, or a receipt that's been through the wash a few times.
But that wine stain has aroused lust in the hearts of kings.
It spent decades hidden away by owners for whom it was just another acquisition, one item among many that offered proof of their status. At times it's been transported with grand ceremony in armored cars; at other times it's been carelessly thrust away in an envelope stuffed into a pocket or a desk.
It's the one-cent magenta, a hastily improvised postage stamp, printed in 1856 by a newspaper in a remote British colony after an expected shipment of stamps from the mother country failed to arrive in British Guiana.
And it's the only one of its kind in the world. The last time the stamp was sold at auction, in 2014, it fetched nearly $9.5 million, making it more valuable than a first printing of the Declaration of Independence.
In "The One-Cent Magenta," a leisurely account of the stamp's history, New York Times reporter James Barron takes the reader into Stamp World, an exclusive and eccentric land whose inhabitants vie for prestige with a fierce and somewhat musty gentility that has largely managed to withstand the onslaught of new, vulgar money.
Over the years, the population of Stamp World has included such notables as King George V of England, the grandfather of Queen Elizabeth II. John Lennon and Freddie Mercury collected stamps; so did President Franklin D. Roosevelt and aviator Amelia Earhart.
Glamorous tennis star Maria Sharapova admitted to the guilty pleasure, complaining that after her hobby became known, "everyone's calling me a dork now."