Stephen Smysnuik
The Level’s guide to whatever the heck Labubu is
Mariia Ploshikhina / Shutterstock
The Topline
- The collectible toy characters have exploded in global popularity via Tik Tok and Instagram
- It’s especially popular with Gen Z and younger Millennial women and is surging in popularity across Canada
The latest pop-culture craze
Consider Labubu the new Beanie Baby or Pokemon card.
These plush toys, with their mischievous grin, portable size and addictive collectibility, have become the most viral phenomena in Canadian consumer culture in years. Canadian retailer Showcase called Labubu "the largest toy trend we’ve ever seen”, as the collectibles flood shopping malls and social media feeds.
(And yes, they’re called Labubu – not Labubu dolls or Labubu toys. Just Labubu.)
The craze is truly a global phenomenon, as well. As the AP points out , there are 1.4 million #Labubu TikTok posts, featuring videos of fans unboxing them, of fashion inspired by them, and yeah, Labubu cosplay – hallmarks of a legitimate, and in this case, a uniquely international, Gen Z, pop cultural event.
Created by Hong Kong-born artist Kasing Lung in 2015, and manufactured by Chinese toy retail giant Pop Mart, Labubu drops are usually announced just days in advance, with each character released as a limited run – a central component of the hype.
Each Labubu comes in a blind box, with each purchase concealed until its opened – adding an element of surprise and rarity to the experience. The blind boxes also give a taste of exclusivity for fans at a low-ish cost price point (between $20-$40).
Indeed, writers and economists have flagged Labubu's popularity as part of the " lipstick index, ” where people opt for small luxuries during times of economic uncertainty. Fans have described the experience of unboxing a Labubu as a dopamine hit – a dose of joy in an increasingly stressful political and economic environment.
A burnout waiting to happen
The fandom is especially crazed in North America. While fans online report of a more relaxed consumer environment in Asia, figures often sell out almost instantly on this side of the ocean.
Canadian fans report frantically trying to snag blind-box drops. On Reddit , one exasperated fan wrote, “Labubu restocks way less often on Canada site and the craze is just as high as US […] most of us got ours during summer to late fall of last year when the restocks were consistent.”
Fans have started to burn out on the craze, with one Redditor stating, "This whole [Labubu] craze is getting a little toxic. Like almost cult vibes. [...] The whole marketing scheme has people obsessed, stressed, on edge about drops.”
The popularity surge has created a secondary market for knock-offs, dubbed “Lafufu.” These cheap imitations lack proper safety standards and have been flagged for choking risks , especially in the U.K.
And, in a twist that echoes the Harry-Potter-mania of yore, the craze has taken a metaphysical turn. People in China have burned their Labubu dolls over comparisons to Pazuzu, the ancient Mesopotamian demon (which, like, is kinda dope).
Markus Giesler, a professor of marketing at York University, suggests the emotional toll of the blind‑box chase and uncertain resale value may cause burnout and a drop-off in popularity in the Canadian market.
All this to say, Labubu’s marketing strategy is driving some unhealthy, obsessive behaviour among fans. It’s now become a potent symbol for the anti-consumer movement, with one online commentor writing, “People are spending hundreds (some even thousands) on these little collectible dolls called Labubu […] it’s not even about the thing itself anymore—it’s about being seen having it.”
