Trends and Hypes: Why Labubus are taking the world by storm

It's a late afternoon at Berlin's Alexa shopping center: A long line in front of the Pop Mart store stretches all the way to the forecourt. Barrier tape directs the waiting, and security guards maintain order. Anyone wanting to enter the store needs patience—and a wristband. "So no one pushes ahead," explains a young man.

The procedure is strictly regulated: First, you queue outside, then continue in small groups into the aisle in front of the store, where the line is sorted again. There, the wait begins all over again. Those who finally make it into the store are greeted by half-empty shelves—many items are already sold out. The store opened at the end of July, but the long line hasn't changed.

Most of those patiently waiting here are young. They want to get their hands on something that's currently experiencing a huge boom – a Labubu. The rabbit-like plush creatures with sharp teeth and large grinning jaws have been attracting crowds ever since the Chinese company Pop Mart started marketing them as collectibles.

The message: Anyone who wears Labubu belongs. These little creatures now visibly dangle from handbags and backpacks – a fashion statement and a ticket to a digital community.

In front of the Berlin store, what experts say about the phenomenon is becoming clearer: Labubu has long been more than just a plush toy. It's a status symbol, a collector's item—and a prime example of how hype is created.

For Kristina Klein, a consumer researcher at the University of Bremen, this illustrates the classic mechanism: "A hype differs from a trend in its short lifespan," she says. "It often arises suddenly, driven by social media and celebrities, and can fade just as quickly."

Several ingredients are needed to trigger such a hype. Klein considers the Labubus to be a prime example. First of all, there's the artificial scarcity, says the expert. The little figures aren't readily available at the nearest store or easily purchased online with just a click. Limited editions ensure that the selection is limited – and the product is all the more desirable.

Added to this is the element of surprise. This is the heart of the strategy: Buyers don't know in advance which figure will be in the box. Some series contain dozens of variants, including "secret" versions that are extremely rare. Unboxing becomes an event, viewed millions of times on TikTok. "It's the same mechanism as with the Kinder Surprise Egg," says consumer researcher Klein. "The variable reward, i.e., not knowing what I'm getting, is a powerful psychological trigger. It can make people truly addicted."

Social media further amplified the effect, partly because stars like Rihanna and Dua Lipa showcase their figures online. "Products like Labubu thus become status symbols," explains Klein.

Anyone who has snagged one not only demonstrates status and exclusivity within the Labubu community, but also that they belong to that very community. This, too, is important for hype: belonging to a community.

The fact that many people find the little monster figures ugly and can't understand the hype often increases the fans' enthusiasm and the exclusivity factor even more. Because when "the mainstream" dismisses something as nonsense, it strengthens the fans' sense of community.

"It's about differentiation and the feeling of having discovered something special," says Klein. All of this triggers the impulse to buy and a kind of collecting frenzy, says Klein. That's all it takes: "Yes, we really are that simple."

Labubus originate in Asia. A few years ago, no one could have imagined the triumphant rise of a little monster from the sketchbook of Hong Kong artist Kasing Lung. Lung, born in 1972, grew up in the Netherlands and was inspired by wuxia novels, Nordic myths, the Smurfs, and Moomins. "These are the nutrients of my creativity," he later told the South China Morning Post. In 2015, he first introduced Labubu in his children's book series "The Monsters": a girl with a cheeky grin but a kind heart.

The big turning point came in 2019 when Lung collaborated with the Chinese toy manufacturer Pop Mart. From then on, Labubu was available not only on paper but also as a designer toy—initially in a limited edition, then as a collectible figure in surprise boxes.

It was the beginning of a global phenomenon. Labubu, half cute, half scary, fits perfectly into the "ugly cute" aesthetic. What began in China became a global phenomenon thanks to celebrities and social media. When Lisa, a singer from the South Korean band Blackpink, performed with Labubu last year, the trend spread to Southeast Asia. Soon, US stars were also posing with the figures.

Vera Klocke, head of the Consumer Culture Research Center at the University of Hildesheim, believes there's something else behind the hype. It's part of a new maximalism trend that deliberately does the opposite of what's been popular in recent years. While minimalist trends like "clean girl" or "quiet luxury" (a natural, simple look and understated elegance without ostentation) previously took center stage, things are now moving in the other direction. Simply put, after years of "less is more," fashion is now shifting to "more is more."

Klocke also sees the appeal of Labubus in its childlike aesthetic, which "conveys lightness and security in times of multiple crises." In this context, it acts as a "coping strategy" that allows consumers to "retreat to symbolic places of retreat," according to the expert.

But the passion for collecting can also turn sour. On social media, fans report spending hundreds of euros a month on blind boxes to get their desired figure. Some speak of a "dopamine rush" when a rare version finally appears.

This, however, is precisely what environmentalists are deeply concerned about. "The production of ever-increasingly new trendy products not only pollutes the climate, but also wastes vast amounts of resources and generates huge mountains of waste," says Thomas Fischer, recycling expert at the German Environmental Aid (DUH).

Many products that experienced huge demand within a short period of time have disappeared just as quickly. The most recent example of this was Dubai chocolate, which experienced a boom last winter. Hardly a Christmas market was without pistachios and light green lettering. Little of that remains. The social media algorithm has new favorites, and prices for the once-coveted chocolate have plummeted.

Now it's the Labubus. "It's never been easier to get people, especially young people, excited about new products online across national borders," Fischer observes. A few well-known social media stars were enough to trigger a chain reaction.

Labubu has long been Pop Mart's most important business. In the first half of 2025, sales increased by 204 percent to €1.65 billion, and net profit even increased by almost 400 percent. The "The Monsters" series featuring Labubu alone generated around €570 million—more than a third of total sales.

The company is expanding rapidly: over 500 stores worldwide, plus 2,600 vending machines in 18 countries. In Europe, Pop Mart recently opened in Milan, Amsterdam, and now in Berlin. Following the opening of the Berlin store in Alexa, another Pop Mart will soon be opened in the Europacenter on Kurfürstendamm. A total of three German stores are planned.

Pop Mart is a high-flyer on the stock market: its share price has increased by over 550 percent since 2024. Company CEO Wang Ning is now one of the richest people in the world.

Where there's hype, counterfeiters are usually not far away. So-called "Lafufus" are flooding online shops and markets. The US Consumer Protection Agency (CPSC) has already warned: The copies break easily, and individual parts can be swallowed – posing a choking hazard for children. Investigators are searching for entire shiploads of counterfeits.

Tips for identifying authentic figures circulate among fans: nine pointy teeth, a heart on the nose, UV protection on the foot, high-quality vinyl or plush. Dumping prices and dubious online shops are considered warning signs.

What irritates retailers, however, is also a kind of accolade for the product. "This is because counterfeiters only copy a product when it's profitable for them, that is, when the product has already achieved a certain size and notoriety," says Klein. The fact that a product or trend is being counterfeited therefore demonstrates that it is so popular and sought after that others will go to the trouble of imitating it.

Will Labubu stay? Klein is cautious. For the professor, the key factor is whether Labubu can move beyond the status of hype. Hype is a short-term phenomenon, she says, whereas a trend is more sustainable; it builds a community and fulfills a deeper need. "It's still a hype in Germany," says Klein, "but whether it becomes a trend depends on whether Pop Mart succeeds in retaining its fan base long-term," the expert adds.

Whether Labubu will stay like Hello Kitty or the Moomins—or disappear like Fidget Spinners and Stanley Cups—remains to be seen. In any case, these questions are far away from the Berlin store. Fans continue to line up for their figures. For them, only one thing matters: the chance to get the next box, the next monster, the next kick.