Huge, soulless oval eyes. A smile larger than the Joker’s himself, composed entirely of razor-sharp, triangular teeth. Scruffy fur all over its entire body, but somehow no eyebrows. Stay away from me! is your immediate reaction, correct? If not, I am extremely concerned for you.
Labubus first stole the spotlight in 2024, when Blackpink’s Lisa posted photos on Instagram with a sky blue edition hanging on her bag. Then followed a wave of social media influencers unboxing the shaggy dolls, spreading FOMO to more and more users online.
Further motivating consumers was the artificial scarcity created by the “blind box” packaging. Labubu’s marketing is in some way absolutely genius, utilizing the psychological concept of intermittent reinforcement. In other words, blind boxes offer a rewarding payoff once in a while rather than every time, and buyers easily become addicted to this uncertainty. Another key factor to the company’s success is releasing new editions regularly rather than reproducing the same products over and over, creating a sense of urgency to buy the newest edition before it sells out.
With all this demand, people are going to extreme lengths to fuel their collecting craze, creating a vastly profitable market for resellers. Prices on reselling platforms like StockX range all the way up to the hundreds. During a live auction in Beijing, a human-sized Labubu was sold for around $150,000. Of course, not all reselling efforts are legal. Labubu-driven thefts have become a common occurrence–for instance, a shipment valued at £150,000 was hijacked in England, with the thieves escaping with the majority of the toys.
In essence, Labubus may just look like mildly threatening, furry plushies, all bark and no bite, but their rise to fame triggered a devastating surge in consumer culture. The quicker trends gain popularity, the faster they fall. Stock prices, resale prices, and Google search interest have all decreased significantly, indicating that the collectible has passed its peak. When the Labubu craze inevitably collapses, millions of these synthetic plushies will be discarded as useless clutter, releasing astronomical amounts of non-biodegradable materials into the environment. To lessen the detrimental environmental effects of this impending wave of waste, wouldn’t it be in our best interests to leave the overpriced, creepy doll in 2025 rather than prolonging its relevance into 2026?