

It all started one evening when my roommate exclaimed, “I need a Labubu.”
“A what now?” I asked, genuinely puzzled.
She pulled out her phone and showed me a picture of a plush toy with pointy ears, big eyes, and a mischievous grin. My initial reaction was a mix of confusion and mild horror. “You want to attach that… to your bag?”
She laughed. “It’s the trend! Rihanna had one. It’s sooo cute.”
I stared at it again, trying to find the cute. Did she truly love it? Or did she love that Rihanna loved it? I asked, and instead of a clear answer, I got a whole saga: mystery boxes, surprise reveals, long queues at Pop Mart stores (starting at 6 a.m., no less), and that addictive thrill of “just one more try” to get the one Labubu you really want. At €18–20 a box, going up to €80–90 for special editions, it’s a hobby that escalates fast.
And then it escalated further.
The next day, one of my classmates casually walked into class with two Labubus swinging off his backpack. Not only had he paid extra at a secondhand shop in Chinatown, but he bought duplicates from the same collection just to (hopefully) score the one he wanted. He now owns four and counting.
At that point, I had to ask: what is this Labubu? And why is it haunting my Milanese academic life?
Labubu, as it turns out, was born from the quirky imagination of Hong Kong artist Kasing Lung and first introduced in 2015 through his series The Monsters, inspired by Nordic folklore. It was Pop Mart, a Chinese toy company, that turned it into a collectible sensation starting in 2019. The doll’s fame exploded further after Lisa from Blackpink featured one on her socials and Rihanna was spotted with it clipped onto her handbag — and poof, overnight it became fashion’s weirdest new accessory.
And there’s more — in China, Labubu has reached full cultural saturation. Think: tiny Prada hats, custom robes, sparkling crowns, and mini designer bags. People literally dress them up like miniature versions of themselves. Some Labubu dolls even come with full outfits, creating space for identity, genderless expression, and mood-based styling. In fact, Pop Mart UK recently paused Labubu sales altogether after a fight broke out in-store — a chaotic side effect of overconsumption and limited drops. It’s like Barbie — but chaotic, mischievous, and delightfully unhinged.
And maybe that’s what makes it so perfect for Gen Z.
Labubu is more than a plush. It’s a charm, a collectible, a mood, a micro-self. It taps into the need for something emotional, personal, and unpredictable in a hyper-algorithmic world. It’s not just about fashion — it’s about fun, with a touch of subversion. In fact, we’ve seen bag charms return to the runway too: from Miu Miu’s SS24 show to Balenciaga’s Fall 2024 accessories lineup, designers are clearly leaning back into the idea of decorated, expressive bags. The charm renaissance is real.
So will Labubu stick around? Or will it quietly exit stage left like many trends before it?
Maybe. Maybe not.
But for now, it’s the trend that best captures the absurdly delightful mix of fashion, fandom, and feeling. And honestly, what’s more relevant than that?
-Sakshi Agrawal
