Labubu Burnout: When Cute Trends Turn into Chaos
It started innocently enough.
A snaggle-toothed plush toy named Labubu went viral on TikTok, showing up on luxury bags, in aesthetic home setups, and even clipped to celebrities. In a matter of days, it turned from niche collectible to must-have object. Prices soared. Resale markets exploded. Videos hit millions.
People weren’t just buying Labubu, they were fighting to get one.
But barely a month later, the same social feeds are filled with people asking:
“Wait… what even is this thing?”
This isn’t just about a toy.
It’s about us.
THE RUSH TO WANT
Labubu didn’t go viral because it was cute. In fact, many would argue it’s not. The real spark came from a perfectly engineered marketing wave. It started with Pop Mart’s limited-edition blind boxes, then exploded when Blackpink’s Lisa was spotted carrying one. Suddenly, this odd little creature wasn’t just a toy, it was a flex. Celebrities like Rihanna, Dua Lipa, and even David Beckham followed, turning Labubu into a hyper-viral status symbol overnight.
It wasn’t accidental joy. It was viral strategy.
And the world responded exactly as expected, with obsession.
MICRO-TRENDS, MAJOR CRASHES
Labubu is just the latest in a string of hyper-speed trend cycles:
- Stanley Cups
- Lululemon belt bags
- “clean girl” aesthetics
- Short-lived obsession with handmade frogs, mushrooms, coquette everything
We no longer discover trends.
We’re hit by them, full force.
By the time you know what it is, you’re already late.
And when you finally get it, it’s already old.
So the cycle repeats.
We explored this feeling in more depth in Why Everything Feels Like a Trend, where we looked at how even identity is being reduced to micro-aesthetics.
ARE WE EVEN CHOOSING ANYTHING?
What Labubu reveals is something quieter and more unsettling:
We don’t chase trends because we need what’s trending.
We chase them because we’re afraid of missing a feeling.
A feeling of being in on something.
A feeling of soft happiness.
A feeling of identity, even if it only lasts a few hours.
But how many Labubus will we collect before we realise we never really wanted them?
THE CLUTTER AFTER THE CUTE
Now that the craze is fading, people are wondering:
- What do I even do with this?
- Why did I buy it?
- Did I like it… or just like what it said about me?
This is where the burnout hits.
Not because Labubu was bad, but because chasing it felt like a shortcut to joy.
When it wasn’t, we didn’t just lose interest.
We felt guilty. Wasteful. Confused.
And maybe a little manipulated.
WHAT LABUBU REALLY TELLS US
Labubu won’t be the last viral product to hijack our emotions.
But maybe it’s the one that makes us pause.
Before we hit “Buy Now,”
Before we build an identity around an object,
Before we let social media decide what joy looks like…
We ask:
Is this something I actually want?
Or just something I’m afraid to miss out on?
