"I'd kill for a Labubu"

Labubu, the once-charming plush monster dreamed up by artist Kasing Lung in 2015, has mutated from quirky collectible to cultural wildfire. With new releases often selling out in minutes, Labubu fever reached new heights worldwide – and nowhere was the obsession more intense than in the UK, where the mania has reached post-apocalyptic levels.

Thanks to TikTok hype and manufactured scarcity, demand for Labubu has exploded. What used to be a £13.50 to £50 retail toy is now a high-stakes gamble, with rare editions fetching hundreds on resale platforms like Vinted and eBay. And here’s the kicker: you don’t even know which one you’re getting until you rip open the box. That’s not collecting – it’s gambling disguised as cuteness.

PopMart, the brand behind the monster bag charms, pulled the Labubus from its UK shelves, in which they have 16 stores, in late May. Why? Because things got ugly.

Long queues outside stores devolved into fights. Customers reported aggressive behaviour, and in some extreme cases, “smash and grab car break-ins for toys valued at over £100 each. For toys. What started as an innocent hobby quickly morphed into something fare more troubling. 

As always, the vulture’s playground that is online resellers had the £17.50 Labubus listed unboxed for £30 or more, with some rare editions going for hundreds of pounds online.

Good luck affording one without selling a kidney...

The limited availability and blind box packaging only fuel the madness, turning each purchase into a gamble – and every collector into a competitor.

The question remains: Are Labubus worth it?

To diehards, yes. Labubu represents more than a toy; it's art, nostalgia, and community. The hand-drawn aesthetic and storybook charm of the figures have struck a chord with collectors around the world. And hey – fine. If that’s your thing, live your truth. But for many outside the loop, the obsession seems baffling – and at times, dangerous.

Pop Mart says it's working on a fairer system for restocking. But fans are divided. Some took to Instagram, blaming the brand’s “drip-feeding” of stock for creating the hype. Others direct their frustration at resellers profiting from the chaos.

“It’s unacceptable,” one fan wrote. “How come they get to buy and others can’t?!”

Labubu has clearly struck a cultural nerve – part fashion, part fandom, part fury. What began as a whimsical toy is now a dangerous desirable, a symbol of internet-fuelled consumer madness.

In the end, Labubu has become a cultural phenomenon, a symbol of how exclusivity and hype can turn even the cutest of things into something wild. Whether this craze will endure or burn out like so many others, one thing’s certain: Labubu has made its mark – adorable, chaotic, and a little bit feral.

Labubu may be soft and fuzzy – but in 2025, it’s anything but harmless.

Just buy a lafufu, bro.