India, May 31 -- Emily draws blood first!" auctioneer Phyllis Kao calls out, referring to an early bid of $3.8 million, relayed by a Sotheby's staffer. It's July 2024, and she is at the helm of a live event built around a stegosaurus fossil named Apex; a rare, 27-ft-long skeleton dated to about 150 million years ago. She stands poised, one hand on the rostrum and the other swaying in the air between bidders, a bit like an orchestra conductor. It's unusual to hear names at an auction, but this has become part of Kao's trademark style. It puts the room at greater ease, and makes those dialling in from far away feel more directly included. "A cool $5 million from Cassandra," she smiles, minutes later. Then she turns and locks eyes with someone offering $6 million. A bidding war has begun. It will last 15 minutes, ending with a new record: at $44.6 million, Apex is the most valuable fossil ever sold at auction. (It was bought by hedge-fund billionaire Kenneth Griffin.) Clips of the event have gone viral online, racking up over one lakh views. Kao isn't alone in doing things differently. Across elite establishments, auctioneers such as Mallika Sagar of Pundole's in India, Liang-Lin Chen of Christie's in Hong Kong and Oliver Barker of Sotheby's Europe have been going viral too, as they quip, riff, offer nuggets of trivia, and lean into the excitement rather than stand stoic amid it. This marks a distinct cultural shift, an attempt to draw in younger, first-time collectors. And it can be said to have begun with the dress code. Blacks, blues and greys still abound, but are not enforced. Instead, auctioneers wear silk and satin shirts, sequinned dresses, unstructured jackets over T-shirts, bold prints, embroidered suits. Chen is known to favour qipaos in purple, turquoise and midnight blue with a hint of shimmer. Sagar is often seen in drop-waist dresses or statement-sleeved blouses. Alongside these are the changes in presentation. The most we had, by way of departure from the stoic norm, until the early Aughts, was a dry quip, direct eye contact or a wry smile. Today, auctioneers are quirky, cheeky, funny and unabashedly original. Chen's style is distinguished by almost-dance-like gestures, and calm, unhurried enunciation, as if nudging unsure bidders. "Give me HKD 5.8 million next please?... Who'll give me HKD 6 million please?" she calls out, amid a tiny lull during the sale of Il Mattino (The Morning; 1994) by the Italian artist Salvo in 2023. (It eventually fetched HKD 6.9 million.) Kao isn't afraid to prod either, with nudges or light banter. "Give it a think," she may say with a smile, or "Would you like to try a smaller bite?", or "How big is your home?" As auction houses look to draw in a younger, digital-first audience, there is acknowledgement that an online event alone may not be enough. The needle must shift from "somewhat intimidating" to "clearly inviting". Accessibility, incidentally, has been the mission from the start. These establishments first emerged across Europe as an increasingly wealthy merchant class began to seek out art and antiques as status symbols and investments. The Stockholm Auction House, widely considered the world's first, was set up in 1674, followed by Sotheby's in 1744 and Christie's in 1766, both in London. Unlike opaque, closed-door transactions, these and others like them offered accessibility and transparency. Fast-forward a century and, by the first decade of the 2000s, the internet had redefined "accessibility", and elite auctions began to be held online. Hybrid sales are now the norm, and this is where the new auctioneer becomes vital. The work itself remains intense. Chen says it comes down to precision, concentration, patience, and a deep understanding of human psychology. One must know when to focus on the two or three bidders driving the price up, and when to woo more bidders from across the pool. How to draw the attention of someone who might be squirming in their seat, unsure if they should raise the paddle. When to "lighten the atmosphere in a very tense room to coax a few extra bids out of the crowd". Meanwhile, one must juggle evolving numbers, and cancelled or delayed bids. One has to know the art itself, of course. Most auctioneers have advanced degrees in specific areas of art history, and spend weeks studying the objects going up for sale. It helps to stay current too, Chen says; keep abreast of academic publications, major exhibitions and geopolitical developments that may shape the collecting priorities of different client groups. Blips are part of the job: dead telephone lines, internet woes, lost signals, audio failures. Perhaps the scariest of these is just standing there amid silence, with not a single bid, says Dinesh Vazirani, auctioneer, collector and co-founder-CEO of the Indian auction house Saffronart. "This is why patience is key. One has to give people enough time to think and react to what's going on." A joke can help break the tension and get the bidding started. "Whatever else you do," Sagar notes, "in most moments, it's important to keep that smile intact."...