Labubu: The viral toy everyone wants, even if they don’t really care
Open TikTok right now and you’ll find video after video of people unboxing a fluffy, bug-eyed toy with exaggerated reactions. This is Labubu, a character from Pop Mart’s The Monsters collection, sold in blind-box packaging. You don’t know which version you’re getting until you open it, and that mechanic alone has turned it into one of the most visible product trends of the year.
But like most viral moments, the hype has little to do with the product itself. And the more I watch, the more convinced I am that most people buying and filming these toys don’t particularly care about them at all.
The toy isn’t the draw, the reaction is
I’m fairly confident that for most people posting Labubu videos, the real motivation is engagement, not genuine excitement about a toy. A quick search of Labubu-related TikTok videos shows likes and views shooting into the hundreds of thousands. The format is familiar, easy and consistently performs.
Whether someone pulls the rare rainbow-teeth version or a common duplicate, the emotional structure of the content is the same: suspense, reveal, reaction. It plays perfectly into short-form algorithms, and that format works whether the excitement is real or not.
It becomes almost obsessive. Viewers watch because they want that moment of surprise. They want to see which one comes out of the box. The toy doesn’t need to be interesting. It’s the unpredictability that keeps people watching.
Another reason I personally suspect most people don’t actually care about these toys in the long term is how often creators offer to give them away. Scroll through TikTok or YouTube and you’ll see Labubu unboxers claiming they’re gifting their pulls to followers… usually saying something like, “These are so hard to get, it’s the least I can do.” But giveaways are one of the oldest engagement tricks in the book. They boost comments, shares, saves and follows, and allow creators to tag their content with searchable phrases like “free Labubu” or “Labubu giveaway,” which helps videos travel further. It might sound generous, but it’s rarely selfless.
The toy becomes a tool. One that can be monetised, recycled, or traded for algorithmic reach.
Scarcity makes it more desirable
Labubu isn’t going viral because of its design. It’s going viral because you can’t easily get one. And that sense of rarity, whether manufactured or genuine, is one of the oldest tools in the marketing book.
Brands limit stock, control drops, or stagger availability so that something feels exclusive, even when it isn’t. It’s not really about the product. It’s about perception. The harder something is to get, the more people want it. That illusion of rarity builds value.
Soho House is a great example of what happens when that illusion fades. I’ve been a member since around 2014 or 2015, and back then, it really felt like a membership club. You could walk into any of the London Houses midweek, find a table easily, and there was this relaxed, exclusive feel that made it a genuinely nice place to spend time. It was also great for taking clients, especially public figures, because you knew no one would bother them. A few months ago, I went back with someone recognisable who suggested it just because it was nearby. Within minutes, people were taking photos of them, and staff didn’t intervene at all.
Since going public in 2021 and rapidly expanding, the business has shifted focus to profit, and it shows. More Houses, more members, more add-ons. The food is consistently underwhelming, the spaces are overcrowded, and the whole experience now feels like a busy chain restaurant with good lighting. A Costco membership is arguably more exclusive at this point. Friends who used to ask to meet me there now ask why I’m still paying for it.
To be fair, I can’t judge people for falling for the Labubu craze. I fell for the Soho House charm. Scarcity tricks all of us at some point.
Labubu works because it feels rare. If you could grab one in every supermarket aisle, the obsession would disappear overnight. The toy isn’t inherently valuable, but right now it feels like a collector’s item, and that’s enough to keep people chasing. The moment it becomes accessible to everyone, that energy dies. Just like it did at Soho House.
For under £20, you're buying attention
Labubu keyrings typically retail at around £17 to £19 in the UK. For that price, you’re buying more than a toy - you’re buying a chance to participate in a viral trend. On TikTok, Labubu unboxings regularly pull in hundreds of thousands of views, sometimes more. Viewed strategically, it’s not a personal purchase, it’s a content investment.
To put that into perspective, a brand or influencer might spend anywhere between £50 to £150 in TikTok ad spend to reach 100,000 views, and that’s on a modest CPM. So if a £17 keyring gets you the same visibility, plus stronger organic engagement and interaction, it’s a no-brainer.
You’re not just buying something to collect. You’re buying content, relatability, and reach. You’re entering a fast-moving trend with high discoverability. And because of the element of surprise, the algorithm tends to reward it. That makes it one of the cheapest and most effective content hooks available right now.
Gen Z and the return of anticipation
There’s a broader psychological context to this too. Gen Z has grown up with instant access. Most things, from shows and games to deliveries and social interactions, are available on demand. Very few consumer experiences today involve any kind of wait.
It wasn’t always like that. Anyone who grew up in the 90s will remember the stress of Christmas toy shortages. Parents would buy gifts months in advance to avoid disappointment. You had to circle what you wanted in the Argos catalogue and hope it wasn’t sold out by the time someone queued up in store. Gen Z wouldn’t relate to any of that. They certainly wouldn’t understand the plot of Jingle All The Way.
Today, if something isn’t in stock, it doesn’t matter. There are a hundred other options, and most things arrive next day anyway. Labubu breaks that pattern. You can’t guarantee a specific version, and you might not be able to buy one at all. That mild frustration, the uncertainty and anticipation, is unfamiliar, which makes it oddly compelling.
When the fakes outperform the real thing
Knock-off Labubus are everywhere now. You’ll find them on AliExpress, TikTok Shop, in random market stalls, and even in petrol stations. And interestingly, some of the most-watched unboxing videos are of these fake versions.
They’re usually terrible, with off-model colours, distorted stitching or broken packaging, but that’s part of the appeal. People exaggerate their reactions, lean into the absurdity, and viewers love it. In fact, some creators are putting on Oscar-worthy performances, pretending to be shocked that theirs is fake, as if they hadn’t guessed from the £4 price tag or the fact it came from the corner shop.
These videos are unpredictable, funny and often more entertaining than genuine pulls. In a way, the fakes are fuelling the trend. They keep Labubu visible, even when the real product isn’t being shown. And they give audiences something else to react to. It’s proof that the story around a product often matters more than the item itself.
What brands can learn
Labubu isn’t just a viral product, it’s a useful case study. Not everything here is replicable, and no marketing agency in the world can guarantee this kind of traction. Trends like this are usually a mix of timing, luck, and the right audience doing the legwork for you.
But there are strategies that increase your odds.
Build in suspense. Whether it’s blind-box formats or surprise drops, consumers enjoy the feeling of a reveal.
Use scarcity strategically. Slight unavailability can heighten desire. Total inaccessibility can backfire.
Optimise for video. Products that look good on camera, or reveal something unexpected, naturally perform better on visual platforms.
Expect counterfeit attention. If your product goes viral, fakes will appear. Plan for this with clear branding, packaging and verification tools.
Seed the right people. You can’t force a trend, but you can set it up. Start by getting key influencers or recognisable personalities to use the product casually, without over-promoting. Sometimes it only takes one visual - a celebrity wearing it in the background of a video, or a creator with a large following unboxing it off-hand — to begin the ripple.
Understand repetition. Most consumers need to see something multiple times before they remember it or act on it. A widely accepted marketing principle puts that number around seven. You don’t need seven ads, but you do need visibility across different contexts. The moment people start commenting that they’ve “seen this everywhere” is when momentum builds.
In short, virality isn’t predictable, but it is buildable. You can’t guarantee that people will start filming themselves with your product, but you can at least give them a reason to.
Final thought
Labubu isn’t really about toys. It’s about structure. It gives people something to film, something to chase, and something to watch. It performs well because it delivers a clear emotional beat: suspense, reveal, reaction, all wrapped into an easily repeatable format.
Whether or not people genuinely care about the toy feels almost irrelevant. The performance around it is what sells. For under £20, you’re not buying plush, you’re buying attention.
And that’s what makes it such a perfect trend for right now. It taps into content culture in a way that’s simple to replicate and even easier to consume. But I’d confidently guess there’ll be thousands, if not millions, of Labubus collecting dust by the end of the year.
It does remind me slightly of the Beanie Baby era, another wave built almost entirely on scarcity and perceived value. Thank God TikTok didn’t exist then. I remember how excited people were to get their hands on the Britannia bear, the Princess Diana tribute bear, or even the 9/11 commemorative one (I remember these at the time being rumoured that in 20 years time they will sell for thousands.. Just checked Ebay).
Fads like that, when viewed through a modern lens, always feel a bit surreal. But at the time, they felt genuinely important. That’s what makes trends like Labubu so fascinating - they often say more about the moment than the product.
