Around Vino Grotta, the players focused on the tiles littering the tables in front of them as they chattered with their competitors. Over the course of two and a half hours, women regularly approached Kristel Powell\u2014the founder of Troop Mahjong Society, which was hosting the evening\u2014with questions about rules, or to alert her that they\u2019d won a round and were owed their prize (a mahjong-themed badge). \u201cIt\u2019s so much more than a game,\u201d Powell told me. \u201cThere are worse addictions to have,\u201d two different players added.<\/p>\n
Though the table game has been beloved for more than a century, in the U.S., it\u2019s an unusually glitzy version of mahjong that has become so popular. And it originated in this state\u2019s own heartland of glitz<\/a>\u2014Dallas<\/a>.\u00a0<\/p>\n The story of mahjong began in mid-1800s China, where it was created as a gambling game for men. It\u2019s since been subject to a century-plus-long process of westernization. Mahjong sets came stateside in large numbers in the 1920s, and soon after, the game became popular among Jewish women<\/a> in the Northeast, who established so-called American mahjong via the Manhattan-based National Mah Jongg League in 1937. This version retained the Chinese name and the tile categories known in English as craks, bams, and dots (which function like the suits of playing cards), and it featured four players sitting around a table, each with a hand of tiles displayed on a rack in front of them. (Traditional Chinese mahjong is played faster, with more flexibility in assembling hands.) As tiles are drawn from a central pile, the players attempt to build hands based on guidelines on the official, league-created \u201cMah Jong card.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n For decades, the American version of the game went unchanged; the rules were the rules, and the tiles looked the way they always had, emblazoned with Chinese characters, dragons, and flowers. Then, in 2020, a new version of the game\u2014differentiated by elaborately designed, \u201cboutique\u201d sets and a more consumerist community\u2014started cropping up across the country, particularly in Southern states, including Texas. Its practitioners are often affluent white women of various ages, frequently seen sporting the bright colors common in the country clubs, junior leagues, and sororities they belong to.\u00a0<\/p>\n In the year since Kristel Powell launched Troop Mahjong Society in San Antonio, 29 franchised chapters have sprung up in 14 Texas cities, including Laredo, Lubbock, Southlake, New Braunfels, and Addison. (A few have popped up out of state as well.) Texas seems to be ground zero for the mahjong boom. In Houston, interest in mahjong-related events on the online reservation platform Eventbrite grew by 867 percent<\/a> between 2023 and 2024, compared to a national surge of 365 percent<\/a>.<\/p>\n But it\u2019s Dallas that has spurred much of the excitement. The craze stems from a group of businesses founded in the city over the past six years that have since become many of the country\u2019s leading mahjong companies. My Fair Mahjong, Oh My Mahjong, Bespoke Mahjong, and Peace Love Mahjong sell tile pushers, floating game mats, and an increasingly wide array of tile sets; mahjong-themed hats, cups, and carrying cases; and the hot pink, cheetah-adorned, and teal mahjong mats and racks I saw in play in San Antonio. These brands added an aesthetic, material aspect to the game that subsequently caught fire.\u00a0<\/p>\n The breakthrough came amid the COVID-19 pandemic, when three Highland Park players, Kate LaGere, Annie O\u2019Grady, and Bianca Watson, got the idea to redesign mahjong\u2019s classic white tiles with Pantone colors and custom artwork. Their company, the Mahjong Line<\/a>, reimagines the tile suits to align with the theme of each set. In the $485 Ranch Line<\/a>, for example, craks become horseshoes, bams become cacti, and dots become sunsets. Other companies sell sets inspired by the University of Texas, the Fourth of July, golf, Scandinavian folk art<\/a>.<\/p>\n \u201cWe identified a huge gap in the [market] and created something totally new,\u201d the founders wrote me in an email. (Their redesigned sets came at a more affordable price point than preexisting ones.) \u201cWe like to think our tiles are little pieces of playable art.\u201d Other companies selling similarly designed tiles and merch followed their lead.<\/p>\n For some players, the elaborately designed merchandise is the main attraction. Tiffany Howard, owner of Houston-based party decor and mahjong boutique Glamfetti, recently met a shopper at the Original Round Top Antiques Fair who said she wanted to learn the game just because the sets were so beautiful. Howard also saw interior designers stop by her booth to shop for clients\u2019 \u201cmahjong rooms<\/a>\u201d\u2014which typically display multiple tile sets that can cost anywhere between $300 and $1,000 each.\u00a0<\/p>\n Powell\u2019s preexisting interest in tablescaping aligned nicely with her passion for mahjong: She now owns two game tables and about eighty tile sets, including a Taylor Swift version and one that matches her favorite chinaware. Her initial sunk cost\u2014\u201cseven hundred dollars in the hole\u201d for her first set, mat, and racks\u2014ensured she\u2019d commit to mahjong despite a sense that she would never understand the game. \u201cThis is how you get suckered in,\u201d she said. \u201cThe set looked so pretty, and they were selling out so fast. So I just said, \u2018I\u2019m gonna buy it.\u2019\u200a\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n The Mahjong Line\u2019s commercial revision of the traditional game has drawn criticism: In 2021, the Instagram account<\/a> Diet Prada, which has some three million followers, complained that the company was appropriating Chinese culture. \u201cI can\u2019t believe i\u2019m watching the gentrification of MAHJONG,\u201d went one common sentiment<\/a>. The Mahjong Line\u2019s founders said they\u2019d received death threats<\/a> and apologized for their \u201cfailure to pay proper homage to the game\u2019s Chinese heritage<\/a>.\u201d They say they now make an effort to inform new players about the roots of the game through the company\u2019s website and social media channels.\u00a0<\/p>\n A fresh wave of backlash arose last year, though, when the company released its own mahjong card. Some worried<\/a> that the Mahjong Line was no longer merely changing the game\u2019s aesthetics but altering its very essence, further removing it from its origins. Last month, Diet Prada again highlighted gentrification in the modern mahjong scene; the top comment on its Instagram post<\/a> drew attention to a traditional Hong Kong tile manufacturer whose shop was closing as Dallas\u2019s companies thrived.<\/p>\n Late last year, D Magazine announced the launch of M\u00e4hj<\/a>, a Dallas-based quarterly that bills itself as \u201cthe ONLY mahjong magazine.\u201d Its first issue (out last month) focused on the mahjong scene in Dallas; later issues will cover Charleston, South Carolina; New York City; and San Francisco.\u00a0 \u201cA magazine felt like the perfect medium for the game. It is tactile, for one thing,\u201d says M\u00e4hj editor in chief Kathy Wise, who has been playing the game for three decades. Her goal is to capture what\u2019s become \u201can infinite scene on social media,\u201d where hobbyists, businesses, and mahjong influencers (including popular Dallas-based creator Mahjong Molly)<\/a> have proliferated.\u00a0<\/p>\n The appeal of the game is multifaceted. Though much of the resurgence seems to come down to the beautiful sets, some women point to the social aspect of mahjong, which allows them to gather weekly. Others say they enjoy the mental agility required by the game. Still more get into it simply because their neighbors or fellow country club members play. It\u2019s a positive kind of peer pressure, jokes Howard.<\/p>\n Wise thinks she knows what draws Texan women in particular. \u201cWe love a party!\u201d she says. \u201cWe like to gather, to dress up, to entertain, to set a tablescape like no other.\u201d<\/p>\n I decided to find out for myself.<\/p>\n In early March, I arrive at Mahj House Austin\u2014the first social center of its kind in the state capital\u2014for a lesson. My classroom is cozy and filled with light, and it features three separate gaming tables, white bamboo chairs, and wall art by local women. I\u2019m introduced to my class\u2019s teacher, a woman originally from New York named Meryl Schuck who learned mahjong as a child before becoming a dedicated player in her twenties.\u00a0<\/p>\n When she first moved to Austin, in 2005, Schuck found weekly mahjong games via her synagogue. She left Austin a few years later, and when she returned, at the end of 2023, interest in the game was picking up outside of the local Jewish community. \u201cIt\u2019s very easy to get caught up in the beautiful mats, the racks, and everything,\u201d she says. \u201cWe didn\u2019t have any of it. We threw our tiles down on the card table and we played.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m happy people are playing. I just want them to play the right way.\u201d Don\u2019t get her started on \u201cblanks,\u201d an innovation popularized by Oh My Mahjong that allows players to swap a blank tile for any discarded tile, a move verboten in official play.\u00a0<\/p>\n Schuck patiently shows us the fundamentals. After thirty minutes spent teaching an intricate pattern called the Charleston (passing tiles to the neighbor on my right, then across, then left, and repeated in reverse), Schuck reminds us that we have yet to start playing: The sequence is meant only to supply each player with her beginning hand. Clearly, this is a complex game. Mahjong has so many small etiquette details\u2014when to touch a tile, what to say when you trade jokers\u2014that a new player can seemingly only learn in person. \u201cThe way it used to grow: I taught a friend. We taught our group of friends,\u201d Schuck says. \u201cBut once it started taking off at the rate it did, there was no one to teach all these people.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n Though the correct order of the Charleston remains elusive to me, after a few games, I start getting into a groove. I\u2019m surprised by how easy it is to learn about my classmates in between turns. I don\u2019t touch my phone during the two hours my brain spends spinning through different tile combinations, calculating and rearranging possible moves with each draw. There\u2019s something pleasant about the clink of plastic tiles against my nails and one another; the pieces are as beautiful as everyone says, whether designed in Dallas or not.<\/p>\n During our session\u2019s final game, another player pulls a flower tile\u2014the one I need to complete my hand. I look to Schuck for assurance, but thanks to her, I already know what to do. I shout \u201cMahjong!\u201d to announce my win.\u00a0<\/p>\n The merch, the cheetah-print racks, the espresso martinis\u2014none of them helped me understand what makes this game so attractive. But with my first victory, I think I\u2019m starting to get it.<\/p>\n Read Next<\/p>\n ![\"A](\"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/us-tx\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/04\/Troop-Mahjong-San-Antonio-Texas-tiles.jpg\")
A member of Troop Mahjong playing with tiles from Southern Sparrow, a mahjong brand out of Dallas. Cassi Brown Photography ![\"Troop](\"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/us-tx\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/04\/Troop-Mahjong-San-Antonio-Texas-players.jpg\")
Troop Mahjong at Hey Love in Boerne. Courtesy of Troop Mahjong <\/p>\n![\"Mahj](\"https:\/\/www.newsbeep.com\/us-tx\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/04\/Mahjong-Texas-Mahj-House-Austin-players.jpg\")
Mahj House Austin cofounders Tara Young (center) and Courtney Harvey (right) playing a game at their social center.Alissa Cordoba Brands<\/p>\n