The Labubu: An Epitome of Overconsumption

Meet the Labubus. Photo credits: Pop Mart

The Labubu plague has spread to Stevenson: more and more bags are conquered by the mischievous plushes every day. Walking across campus, encountering Labubus of all colors, I wonder, what is it about these creatures that is so desirable to the human eye? 

Well, to start, they aren’t so desirable to many, including myself. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, yes, but these little monsters are just so irksome — what are they smirking about? Why are they claiming a bag as if it is their own? There are so many other decorative things one can attach to a bag; it seems illogical to fasten a thing so clunky to something designed for practical use. 

And yet, here we are: Labubus multiplying like rabbits, dangling from zippers and straps like parasites. Their popularity is not really about them, though — it’s about us. People no longer shop based on need or even genuine desire; they shop for the rush. Sonny Angels and Smiskis are other examples of this phenomenon. Granted, I just recently purchased my very first Smiski, so I apologize for the hypocrisy; if it makes the situation any better, though, I’m not a huge fan of the one I unboxed (damn these blind boxes). 

There is an emotional lottery attached to unboxing a blind box. Will you get the rare one? Will yours be special? That sense of variable reward, the same sensation as gambling, triggers dopamine release in the brain. It’s essentially the same mechanism that makes slot machines addictive — except here, the jackpot isn’t a million dollars, it’s just a plastic toy.

What strikes me is how normalized this has become. Scrolling through Instagram reels and other platforms, I find endless unboxing videos and staged hauls. This sentiment is reflected in the broader Stevenson community as well, with 60% of students “despising” the dolls. Only a small percentage of the joy comes from owning one, and the rest comes from showing off a pile. This behavior isn’t just encouraged, it’s rewarded by likes, comments, and a sense of status.

A variety of Labubu options. Photo credits: Pinterest

A lot of this rush (and many other things that young adults seem to enjoy) stems from childhood nostalgia. Blind boxes and plush toys tap into memories of cereal box prizes, collecting baseball cards, or digging into a McDonald’s Happy Meal. Only now, the price tags are higher. Companies know this, and they lean into it, weaponizing the comfort of childhood against wallets that, for many teens, aren’t even their own. 

We shouldn’t keep feeding that fire. We shouldn’t normalize buying something just because it is trending or let ourselves be manipulated into confusing material possessions with joy. Labubus are not mascots of personality — they are mascots of waste. They symbolize an unhealthy cycle of spending, discarding, and repeating, all to satisfy an insatiable craving created by corporations.

Labubus might seem harmless on the surface, just another fad in a long line of trinkets and trends. But the truth is that they reflect a broader issue: we are normalizing consumption for consumption’s sake. When buying becomes a reflex, a way to numb boredom, we surrender both our money and agency to companies that thrive on keeping us hooked. The harder but smarter choice is to resist. Ask yourself why you want something before you buy it, and recognize that sometimes the most powerful statement you can make is not adding another Labubu to the collection.