Madison Hunt | Staff Writer
Picture a mischievous, weird-looking creature sewn into softness — bat-wide ears, marble-round eyes and a row of tiny needle teeth curving into a cheeky grin, all wrapped in shaggy, candy-colored fur. That is a Labubu: part gremlin, part rabbit, part sugary fever dream, designed to look both adorable and a little dangerous, like it might steal your heart and money in the same breath.
I get the charm. Labubu, born from the imagination of Hong Kong-born artist Kasing Lung, was created as a character in his illustrated book series, “The Monsters,” before being transformed into a collectible designer toy by Chinese retailer Pop Mart. Labubu’s hit the algorithmic sweet spot as in photos, they pop; on shelves, they congregate like a tribe. It is easy to understand why people want them. It is less easy to understand why we have agreed that wanting them should come with a steep price tag.
The prices can be staggering; for instance, they retail for approximately $114.99, while even mini versions start around $18.99 — prices that seem absurd for plastic toys, regardless of their colorful aesthetics and whimsical designs. According to a recent article from CNBC, Pop Mart announced a massive 400% profit jump in just six months, further cementing that the market for these toys is surging, with a staggering $670 million worth sold in the first half of 2025 alone. This spike in revenue is primarily attributed to their exclusivity and marketing strategies, which heighten their demand while also inflating prices to unattainable levels for the average consumer.
The online side sparked a frenzy both in-store and online. Pop-up drops for the plush Labubu draw overnight lines and phone-tapping countdowns; TikTok fills with unboxings, special offers and slow-motion edits; Discords and group chats ring with trade offers before the tags come off. Minutes after a release, resellers list the plush toy on retail sites, while fans treat mall storefronts like concert venues, waiting for multiple hours as they chase limited editions as if they are golden tickets.
It is not just a stuffed toy — it is a status object in the new economy of scarcity, where cuddly becomes collectable and hype turns fur into gold.
Many collectors have begun exploring counterfeit options — a trend that seems to be on the rise, especially with “Labufu,” a close imitation, which offered prices ranging from $5 to $50. This situation begs a larger existential question within the world of collectible toys: is it ethical to inflate prices so dramatically on items that are, at their core, just colorful figures?
Consumers like 28-year-old Joselyn Chamorro note to CNN that the chase for genuine Labubu’s has turned into an arduous task; with so many reselling for ridiculous prices, the thrill is fading and sentiments are shifting.
“Trying to get a real Labubu feels like ‘The Hunger Games,'” Chamorro said.
Instead, buy the exact figure you love on the resale market after the initial frenzy and when prices normalize. Support independent artists creating small-batch vinyl or resin pieces with stories that delve deeper than just color. Commission a custom piece from a local artist, and swap your blind-box budget for a museum membership that will inspire you for a year.
If you can’t resist the temptation and love of the Labubu’s aesthetic, pick one that is truly unique and let it stand alone. In that case, the single spotlighted piece is often more satisfying than a batch of variants you acquired by accident. And if you’re gifting, resist the blind box. Give the recipient the dignity of choice, not a gamble.
Some will argue that the thrill is the point, that the community is worth the admission price. Fair. However, we should be honest about the price. It’s not just the retail cost; it’s the time refreshing drop pages, the anxiety of missing out and the little pangs of buyer’s remorse disguised as “I’ll trade later.” When the high fades, what’s left should be a piece you genuinely love, not a plastic obligation.
Labubu’s serve as a fascinating case study within the world of pop culture collectibles. While they boast a unique aesthetic and an impressive backstory, the exorbitant prices and cult-like demand raise essential questions about consumer culture, ethical pricing and the validity of hype. As fans grapple with these choices amidst playful designs, one thing remains certain: at some point, when will enough be enough?
Labubu’s are overrated and priced beyond their actual value. They encapsulate how modern consumer culture transforms plastic and plush into prestige through scarcity and how “community” and “collectability” can mask a FOMO tax on our wallets, time and attention. None of the red flags cancels out the charm of a Labubu; it just argues for buying in a marketplace that is prone to blur your vision. Admire the design, skip the urgency and let meaning — not a ticking clock — decide what earns a place on your shelf.
