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The Labubu Craze: How A Mischievous Toy Took Over Pop Culture

  • Writer: River Valley Student Editorial Club
    River Valley Student Editorial Club
  • Aug 17
  • 6 min read

By Ashley Joo (25J05)


Walk past any designer toy store or scroll through a collector’s forum, and you’re bound to meet a familiar face: wide eyes, a mischievous grin, oversized fluffy ears, and a whole lot of chaotic charm. Meet Labubu—part gremlin, part fairytale escapee, and now, a full-blown pop culture icon.


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Picture of Labubu


Once a humble doodle in a children’s book, Labubu has evolved into a global obsession. It’s not just a toy—it’s a lifestyle, an aesthetic, a social media star, and (for some wallets) a financial regret. From TikTok unboxings to sky-high resale prices, Labubu’s reign is real. But how did this quirky creature go from niche sketch to collectible kingpin? Buckle up—we’re diving into the adorable rabbit hole.


The Origins of Labubu: From Storybook Scribble to Collectible Stardom

Labubu wasn’t born in a boardroom or whipped up by a marketing team looking for the next Hello Kitty. No, this fuzzy mischief-maker started as a character in a storybook, sketched into existence by Hong Kong-based artist Kasing Lung, who once worked as a children’s book illustrator.


In the late 2000s, Lung began crafting “The Monsters” universe—a charmingly odd world filled with curious critters, gentle ghosts, and more than a few existential undertones. His characters weren’t polished or perfect. They were emotional. Flawed. Occasionally toothy. Essentially, they looked like they had deep thoughts about the meaning of life, while also stealing cookies when no one was looking.


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Poster for a Labubu Series


Among them was Labubu, a creature Lung once described as “strange, misunderstood, but deeply curious about the world.” Think: the love child of Maurice Sendak’s Wild Things and your hyper-imaginative childhood imaginary friend. Early drawings placed Labubu in forested settings: playing with insects, befriending ghosts, and generally living its best eerie-but-adorable life.


And this wasn’t just surface-level whimsy—Labubu’s backstory packed a surprising emotional punch. It spoke to people who had ever felt like outsiders. People who didn’t quite fit into the neat, boxy world of adulthood. People who thought, “I too feel like a misunderstood creature who just wants to befriend a frog in the woods.”


By the time Lung teamed up with POP MART in 2018, the emotional groundwork had already been laid. Labubu had a soul. Now, it just needed plastic limbs.


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Another series of Labubu


POP MART and the Business of Turning Weird into Wonderful

POP MART isn’t your average toy company. Think less “Barbie Dreamhouse,” more “curated toy gallery for emotionally complex grown-ups.” Known for elevating niche art into massive commercial appeal, POP MART spotted Labubu and said, “Yes. This unsettling forest goblin has it.”


They launched Labubu as part of “The Monsters” series—and boom. Demand exploded like a confetti cannon at a birthday party. 


But POP MART didn’t stop at just making the toys. They built an entire ecosystem around the experience—stores that looked like modern art museums, vending machines in shopping malls, and packaging so cute it should be illegal. And at the center of this curated chaos? Labubu, grinning like it knew exactly what it was doing to your wallet.


Blind Box Culture and the Psychology of “Just One More”

Ah, the blind box. The loot box of the toy world. The physical manifestation of your inner gambler whispering, “Go on. What if this next one is the secret edition?”


Here’s how it works: You buy a sealed box. Inside is a mystery toy from a series—but you don’t know which one. Could be the common floral fairy. Could be the ultra-rare translucent pirate ghost. Could be the one you already have three of, and now you’re questioning your life choices.


This setup triggers what psychologists call the “variable reward system”, the same trick casinos and video games use to keep you coming back. You don’t know what you’re going to get, but that unpredictability? That’s the good stuff. That’s the dopamine hit.


POP MART designs Labubu series with 1–2 “secret” editions per 12–24 box sets. Some of these are so rare, your odds of pulling one are worse than matching all the numbers on a scratch card while blindfolded. Which, naturally, only makes people want them more.


Collectors end up buying entire cartons. Others jump into online trading groups or become part-time detectives in Telegram chats, desperately hunting for that missing fairy Labubu to complete their woodland dream team. It’s like Pokémon, except instead of battling, you spend your paycheck and develop a deep emotional attachment to a creature with crooked teeth.


Asia’s Obsession: Singapore, China, and Japan Lead the Charge

Blind box culture has absolutely exploded in Asia, with countries like China, Japan, and Singapore turning Labubu into a full-blown cultural movement.


POP MART opened sleek flagship stores and dropped vending machines into high-traffic malls. In Singapore, you’ll find these vending machines at Bugis+, Plaza Singapura, and other youth hotspots. They’re always surrounded by hopeful teens, excited couples, and occasionally bewildered parents wondering why their child just spent $15 on something they can’t even see yet.


Weekend launches often spark queues that rival bubble tea openings. The moment stock drops, it’s chaos—in the friendliest, most pastel aesthetic way possible. People open boxes on the spot, hoping for that sweet, sweet secret edition high. Sometimes strangers trade figures right there on the floor like it’s a Wall Street exchange run by Studio Ghibli characters.


The series themes only fuel the hype. “Labubu Pirates,” “Flower Fairies,” “Forest Concert”—each one feels like a tiny fantasy universe. And the collector’s mindset? Ruthless. You don’t just want one Labubu. You want the entire gang, posed like a Renaissance painting on your bookshelf.


Labubu and the Social Media Explosion

Enter: TikTok and Instagram, the turbochargers of any modern craze.


Labubu quickly became the star of unboxing videos, shelf tours, and even little skits. Hashtags like #Labubu, #POPmart, and #KasingLung racked up millions of views. And why not? Labubu is oddly photogenic. It looks good nestled among succulents, balancing on a stack of books, or even hanging out with your morning matcha.


People weren’t just collecting—they were curating personalities. Some users staged cinematic scenes with their Labubu figures; others built mini shrines of pastel chaos. It wasn’t just about having the toy—it was about creating a vibe, a story, a pocket-sized rebellion against the digital blur of everyday life.


Labubu became a way to bring joy back into physical space. Something tactile. Something you could hold. Something weird and sweet and surprisingly meaningful.


And yes, not everyone jumped in for the wholesome nostalgia. Some folks joined the trend simply for the hype, the clout, the resale value (looking at you, $300 Ice Labubu listings). But even hype has its place in the ecosystem. After all, if BLACKPINK’s Lisa is cuddling a giant Labubu, how can you resist?

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Blackpink’s Lisa holding her very own Labubu


The Resale Craze: When Labubu Becomes a Luxury Item

If you think the story ends at collecting, think again. There’s a whole other world buzzing beneath the surface: resale culture.


Some rare Labubu editions—especially the secrets, glow-in-the-darks, or event exclusives—have sold for over $500 on eBay and Carousell. The Ice Labubu? A snow globe of pure plastic prestige, often listed at $300 or more, depending on condition and box authenticity. Limited editions like the Forest Labubu or Halloween Gothic series? They're basically the Louis Vuitton bags of the designer toy world.


And where there's money, there are flippers. Some buyers don’t even open the boxes—they weigh them with a digital scale to guess what’s inside. Others sell entire unopened cartons to hungry collectors for double the retail price. The demand is so intense that certain Telegram groups now have waitlists longer than K-drama fan meetups.


As an 18-year-old collector from Singapore puts it, 

“I told myself I’d just get one. I now have thirteen. I’ve spent over $600 this year alone. But every time I get a secret, I feel like I’ve won the lottery.”


Another long-time collector shared:

“There’s something weirdly comforting about Labubu. It’s a little monster that somehow understands you. And yes, I have traded sneakers for a Labubu before. No regrets.”


Celebrity Sightings and Cross-Cultural Chaos

When Lisa posted herself holding a giant Labubu, fans didn’t just like the post—they zoomed in, identified the edition, and sent POP MART into restock overdrive. Not long after, eagle-eyed fans spotted Stray Kids’ Hyunjin cradling a Labubu in a VLive, instantly boosting the toy’s street cred in K-pop circles.


Labubu wasn’t just an Asian toy trend anymore. It became global. A fashion accessory. A personality statement. A symbol of taste and quirkiness.


What makes Labubu particularly adaptable is its chameleon-like aesthetic. Cottagecore? Fairy Labubu is practically wearing a flower crown. Vaporwave? Try the translucent Ice edition. Dark academia? The Halloween Gothic series looks like it just finished reading Poe.


In a digital landscape where “cute-but-weird” reigns supreme, Labubu is a perfect storm: expressive, versatile, nostalgic, and just strange enough to be unforgettable.


Final Thoughts: So... Why Are We Obsessed?

Labubu is more than a toy. It’s a mirror. A little creature that reflects back our inner misfits, childhood dreams, collector’s impulse, and desire to feel something—anything!—beyond the glow of our phone screens.


For some, it’s nostalgia. For others, it’s art. For many, it’s an endorphin-charged chance to open a blind box and feel, for a second, like the universe handed you a win.


And for all of us? It’s proof that even in the strangest forms—grinning teeth and fuzzy ears—we’re still drawn to stories, to characters, and to that glorious, messy intersection of identity and play.


So the next time someone raises an eyebrow at your growing army of tiny Labubus, just smile and say:

“It’s not just a toy. It’s a feeling.”




 
 
 

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