If you haven’t heard of them, you’ve seen them. They’re little, potbellied fuzzy creatures with big evil smiles and demon twink energy. You can find them in any form: blind boxes, Dubai chocolate, at the front lines of an ICE protest, or at an auction for $170,000. Hell, even Carrie Bradshaw is (unfortunately) now aware of their existence. Their reign of terror on your timeline only means one thing: the Labubus are Summer’s It Girl accessory.
The craze around Labubu dolls feels like a prank or something your friend’s boyfriend would say is “right out of Idiocracy.” Half of the internet is obsessed with Labubus, lurking around Canal street for a dupe. The other half is horrified that something so terrifying could be so beloved and so expensive. They should be too lowbrow for high fashion and too off-putting for middle school girls, yet the creature charms hang on both Birkins and backpacks. So what’s behind the obsession?
As someone under the age of 30 and chronically online, I’m slightly more qualified than a Wall Street journalist to go into the trenches as to why these little devils are so sought after.
What Are Labubus?
It’s hard to determine exactly what Labubus are, biologically at least. They’re not quite bunnies, not quite possessed dolls. Whether it’s the blushing smile or the pick me eyes, they are kind of adorable. Sorry! I had to say it. To understand their rise to undisputed stardom, we have to know their lore.
How it started: Labubu dolls were born out of artist Kasing Lung’s childhood fascination with fairy tales, specifically Nordic mythological creatures. Labubu is one of the characters in Lung’s “The Monsters” series, which includes Zimomo, Tycoco, and Spooky. Their popularity, as well as the blind box boom in general (we can thank Vanilla Mace for that), has doubled their distributor Pop Mart’s revenue this year.
Why Are Labubus So Popular?
Gun to my head? I would say it’s simply a vibe. They’re a perfect combination of manic and huggable, and as we’ve proven, Gen Z has an affinity for ugly things. Upon first glance, they seem creepy, but we must acknowledge that they come from a line of weird, little, trendy toys. Think of Sonny Angels, the naked winged babies in fruit hats with two pairs of lips (one up, one…down). Or Smiskis, the glow in the dark amorphous guys who seem to love doing an activity at nighttime. They’re not quite as spooky as porcelain dolls, though they’re kind of popular too, but there’s something suspicious about them. And we eat it up. They’re kind of…relatable in their menacing stares that scream for attention. What can we say? In this age of internet daddies, 4DX, flaming hot Cheetos, and WW3 fitspos, maybe our taste has become masochistic.
Recently, Gen-Z has been in the headlines, yet again, for being outspokenly progressive in our politics and shockingly conservative when it comes to our views on love — but mostly sex. Our generational yearning to be told we’re good girls, boys, or theys makes us conformists. We have a uniform. You can spot it at any bar from Instagram reels: white top, blue jeans. Even niche trends have a formula: big baggy pants, camis, and Y2K purses. Raised on Club Penguin and Webkinz, can you blame us? In these games, a player picks from a small selection of characters, and then you personalize them. And how you accessorize determines whether you’re interesting enough to have a convo with your peers at the clubhouse. Then we graduated from flash games to social media, where the (pre-TikTok) algorithm largely rewarded you if you looked the same as everyone else… but hotter. We’re basically professionals at accessorizing our avatars. Enter: Labubus. Against the same old top and jeans, they stand out. And, you can even buy an outfit for them that’s more bold than anything you would ever dare to wear.
Labubus look like they bite ankles
— Send Help (@sendhelpbetches) June 21, 2025
Labubus are the perfect icon for the post-irony internet. Any post you dare share online risks the ire of a nuance-less comment section. By the age of 28, you’re expected to have perfect thoughts, attainable yet out-of-reach lifestyles, and flawless boyfriends. Fearing to stray from the mold, we turn to a Labubu that’s equal parts sinister and messy but ultimately lovable to convey the multitudes of our being.
You’ve heard it before: Gen-Z has no money. It’s been drilled into my head that I won’t be able to retire. So, why should I spend my hard-earned money on a 401k when I could have a matcha latte right now? Since we’re going to witness the climate apocalypse, I might as well procure as many bartering goods as possible. Or, if a Pompeii-like-tragedy hits, I’ll be buried amongst the bed of nylon collectibles like a pharaoh. We need a rotation of fidget toys that keep our ADHD-rattled, high screen time, low concentration minds focused.
Our generational enthusiasm for trinkets may appear childish. Gen-Z can’t grow up! But what if we’re honoring our inner child by splurging on a treat that our parents — pinching pennies post-2008 — couldn’t get us? We’re the generation raised by Gen-Xers, tail-end boomers, and their various undiagnosed neuroses. We watched them make impulsive choices, refuse accountability for their behaviors, give thumbs-ups to heartfelt messages, and drink in a way only someone born in the 60s-70s could. Are those choices mature and grown up? Adulting, as it were, is a myth. As you age, it seems like you just gain more lore — AKA more excuses — to rationalize childish choices. From what I’ve heard, a part of healing, breaking the chain, and so on is acknowledging the wounded child within us. Why not use adult money to make us happy? Owning a house seems stressful asf. Of course, I’d rather have a Roth IRA than a Labubu collection, but I’ll play the cards the economy dealt me.
Labubus aren’t just accessories; they’re little friends. They’re part totem, part emotional support companions that are simply there to be by my side as I navigate the sociopolitical economic hellscape that is 2025. Is it a false illusion of companionship? Maybe, but look, he’s got Bahama shorts! My Labubu is going on a vacation that I don’t have the PTO to take! How sickening, how cute to give our objects the quiet luxuries I won’t get on this budget or live long enough to attain.
It simplifies the Labubu to suggest people like them simply because everyone else does. Sure, they’re made from the same factory that welded together Tate McCrae and created Swedish candy. And yes, having one as a bag charm does, in the current climate, scream clout chaser. But the truth remains: Labubus captured the attention of a very lonely generation who can barely afford to live. I personally carry a little freak with me wherever I go. In these times, it’s nice to have a friend.
