Let's get something straight: Labubu isn't new. It's been around since 2015, born from the beautifully weird imagination of Kasing Lung, an artist who gave us The Monsters series - a universe where creatures are both creepy and cuddly. Basically, it's where folklore, pop art, and mischief shook hands and decided to ruin our wallets.
But Labubu wasn't supposed to get this famous, right? It was an indie art toy! A cult collectible! The kind of thing you'd find in a Tokyo side street boutique or at Comic-Con nestled between vinyl kaiju and overpriced enamel pins. And yet here we are. It's 2025. My children are swapping Labubu keychains with the same intensity I once reserved for Sailor Moon stickers. And I'm, well, I'm emotionally attached to a bug-eyed gremlin with elf ears and a snaggletooth grin. Send help.
From Gen Z Icon to Gen Alpha Obsession
Let's blame Gen Z first. They started it. They saw something chaotic, adorable, slightly unhinged, and claimed it as their emotional support creature. Then Lisa from BLACKPINK posted a Christmas tree full of Labubus, and the world exploded. Suddenly, Pop Mart stores were running waitlists. Celebs were carrying Labubu like they used to carry miniature dogs in the early 2000s. And just like that, Labubu went from "what's that?" to "WHERE CAN I GET ONE?".
Gen Z adored the chaos. The irony. The fact that Labubu looks like he could either comfort you or bite you in your sleep. He became a walking metaphor for emotional instability wrapped in cuteness. So, of course, they were hooked.
But now? My Gen Alpha gremlins want in.
And this isn't just some one-off curiosity. They're organizing full-blown Labubu summits on the playground. They're comparing sizes, colors, editions, and yelling things like "I got the rare one with the watermelon hat!" like it's Pokémon all over again. Only this time, I'm the one paying resale prices for a piece of vinyl the size of a kiwi.
I'll be honest. I get it.
Labubu Is Comfort Core with a Bite
There's something oddly therapeutic about Labubu. He's like your inner child and your inner chaos demon rolled into one bite-sized monster. He's the comfort plushie you hug after a long day, but also the prankster who gives side-eye to everyone at the PTA meeting.
His design is aggressively ugly-cute - big grin, wide eyes, always one eyebrow raised like he knows what you did. It's like if Totoro joined a punk band and started making sarcastic Instagram reels. And this weird little guy somehow hits every single trend in the toy world right now:
Blind box model? Check.
Limited editions and variants? Obviously.
Celebrity-approved? Rihanna, Kim, and Dua certified and approved.
Mini-sized emotional support monster for under €20? Dangerous. Very dangerous.
Am I Raising Collectors or Future Toy Dealers?
It's hard not to feel like we're all being slowly manipulated by the adorable face of a fuzzy goblin. The Pop Mart drop model is diabolical: limited runs, surprise packaging, rare "secret" editions that show up once in every 72 boxes. I once saw a grown man on TikTok cry because he finally pulled the black-and-gold Labubu after six months. And yes. I bookmarked it for science.
So naturally, my kids are all in. And me? I'm almost ashamed to admit I'm the one whispering, "Let's get one more box. You've been so good this week." We open it together like it's Charlie's golden ticket. And when we don't get the one we hoped for? We don't cry. We start planning the next one. This is how empires fall.
But Here's the Real Reason I Don't Mind
Labubu isn't just a trend. It's a shared language. I've seen my kids trade them like mini trophies. I've watched them make up entire stories: Labubu goes to space, Labubu opens a bakery, Labubu vs. Darth Vader (spoiler: Labubu wins). It's creativity in its most chaotic, joyful form.
And somewhere between that watermelon-hat edition and the glow-in-the-dark one, I realized: this is what play is supposed to be. It's not a YouTube unboxing video. It's tactile, it's social, it's full of imagination. And hey, it's not a screen.
Also? I like them. I like the way they look on my shelf. I like the fact that my kids think I'm cool for knowing the names of the different monsters in the 'Monsters' series. I like having a reason to line up at a toy store and pretend I'm doing it for my kids. (I am. Mostly.)
Do you know what's next?
Probably plushies (I see those popping everywhere ). Then maybe a streaming deal. An animated series where Labubu finally speaks (please no). Perhaps consider crossover merchandise with Crocs, as the world is chaotic, and we're just trying to accessorize.
I'm bracing myself for the inevitable Labubu-themed birthday party. I'm already half-drafting a Pinterest board. And honestly? Bring it on. Which store sells those on Etsy?
Because in a world that sometimes feels overwhelming and digital and way too serious, there's something perfect about a weird little toy monster becoming the bridge between generations. It's a mess. It's a craze. It's a tiny, pointy-toothed delight.
And if loving Labubu is wrong?
I don't want to be right.
