Why a sweet, slightly sinister elf named Labubu is inescapable right now

The little plush dolls, affixed to everything from designer bags to belts, have caught on with a curious cross-section of teens, celebs and fashionistas.

In late November, Casey Lewis began her “After School” newsletter by announcing, “We’ve officially hit peak ‘bag charm.’” She cited a spate of stories from the New York Times, the Wall Street Journal and the Strategist about women of all ages clipping key chains and jewelry to their purses as evidence that “the trend’s days are numbered.”

But just a week before, Lewis had also included an item about a new toy taking Asia by storm: an elf with a toothy, mischievous smile in a plush suit named Labubu.

Several months later, Labubu is more popular than ever — and the plush dolls can be seen dangling from purses next to other clattering charms nationwide.

Lewis is known to have her finger on the pulse of Gen Z and its consumer habits, but she admits that her grim assessment of the bag charm was premature.

“The Labubu thing came out of nowhere, to me at least,” Lewis said. “That is one of the most fun but also the most befuddling things about trend cycles today: It’s so hard to know what’s next and what will catch on and what the velocity of the trend will be.”

Thanks to Labubu, the bag charm trend has lived to see another day.

How did we get here? The answer involves Jane Birkin, Miuccia Prada, economic anxiety, tiny Kewpie dolls with fruits on their heads and summer camp arts and crafts.

“Labubu” is the name of a character from The Monsters, a children’s book series. She’s an elf who usually wears fuzzy onesies in various colors.

Kasing Lung is the Hong Kong-based artist who created The Monsters in 2015. In 2019, Lung partnered with the Chinese company Pop Mart to exclusively sell toy versions of Labubu. Prices range from hundreds of dollars for rare dolls to less than $30 for most smaller Labubu key chains.

It’s too early to determine whether Labubu will ever reach the mythical status and epic sales figures of, say, Hello Kitty. But her rapid rise is remarkable. According to Pop Mart, The Monsters merchandise generated $419.31 million globally in 2024, with Labubu accounting for the majority of those sales.

Celebrities such as Rihanna, Dua Lipa and Blackpink’s Lisa have been spotted with Labubu key chains trailing from their purses and belt loops. NBA basketball player Dillon “the Villain” Brooks has been photographed more than once carrying a bag with a white Labubu attached.

Labubu’s appeal cuts across several demographics: Miu Miu-pilled fashion girlies emulating runway looks, teenagers and young adults who love cutesy collectibles and nostalgic fashion fans who remember when Fendi, under Karl Lagerfeld’s creative direction, sold “monster” bag charms made of fur in 2013.

Lewis also sees a parallel to the Stanley tumbler fad of late 2023. “In these weird times where people are trying to figure out who they are and what they stand for and what’s their identity, having these collections of cute things is a way to say, ‘This is me, this is what I stand for,’” she said.

Just like Stanley tumblers — which spread like wildfire first through tween TikTok, then through the accounts of their mothers — the Labubu trend is fueled by social media. A twee ukulele song featuring what sounds like a baby singing “Labubu” over and over again has 11 million views on YouTube. Audio from the song has been used in more than 250,000 Instagram Reels, often playing under videos of people showing off their Labubus swinging from purses.

Some Labubus come in “blind boxes,” a term for collectibles that are sold without the buyer knowing what they’re getting until after purchase. It’s the same principle as buying a pack of baseball cards: you might get something common or you might get something rare and valuable.

Blind boxes amp up the risk and reward of shopping, delivering additional dopamine to a shopper who finds a coveted item. That’s part of what helped make Sonny Angels — collectible Kewpie dolls with different themed hats — a phenomenon among young Americans a few years ago.

But even at the height of Sonny Angels mania, we never saw anything like the scene at Westfield Century City mall in Los Angeles at the end of April, when TikTok videos of hundreds of shoppers running to line up ahead of a Labubu drop circulated online.

Shabnam Melwani, who runs a lifestyle brand called Sun Moon Rain, was at Westfield Century City when the scene at Pop Mart unfolded. “I cannot tell you, it was crazy,” she said. Melwani said “there was at least 1,000 people there” before 6 a.m.

Melwani, 56, who splits her time between Singapore and Los Angeles, had just returned from Asia. She and her son had caught what she calls “the Labubu bug” back in February but hadn’t realized that it had spread stateside.

She currently owns around 10 Labubus, but the number fluctuates since she frequently gives them away as gifts. When we spoke, she was about to go to the hair salon, where she was planning to surprise her hairdresser with one.

Her 13-year-old son trades and sells the dolls for profit and also gifts her with Labubu outfits made to resemble designs by brands such as Chrome Hearts, Chanel and Gucci. The unlicensed “designer” outfits are fake, but the bags she clips her Labubus to are real. A few weeks ago, she posted a photo of one of her Lububus in a (real) Hermés pink scarf, clipped to a (real) Hermés Kelly bag.

For a woman who can afford a Kelly (or several — “I stopped counting my handbags a long time ago,” Melwani said), what is the appeal of a toy made of plush and plastic?

“It’s layers of reasons why I got into it,” she said. She started collecting Labubus in the wake of the fires in L.A., which had damaged her home. “Just escaping into this little place of these crazy creatures in blind boxes was a fun distraction,” Melwani said.

Her newfound love of Labubu inspired her to dig out a collection of vintage bag charms, including a whimsical robot made by Prada, she said. “The timing was perfect,” she said, referring to how last year’s charm trend helped fuel the current Labubu fever.

Last summer, TikTok videos popped up with young women “Birkin-ifying” their handbags by attaching scarves, trinkets and key chains. The trend was inspired by Jane Birkin, who embellished her own beat-up custom namesake Hermés bag with necklaces, stickers bearing political slogans and nail clippers.

Demand for whimsical bag baubles was met by fashion brands including Loewe, Fendi, Balenciaga and Burberry. Coach’s $95 cherry charm was a particular hit among Gen Z.

Miu Miu — a line that has turned its propensity to nail the zeitgeist into massive profits — sold a wide array of bag charms, including teeny tiny Miu Miu bags that you could clip onto your regular-size Miu Miu bag.

Some of their $440 cord “tricks” — Miu Miu’s preferred term for bag charms — look an awful lot like the handwoven plastic key chains that you may have made in an arts and crafts class at summer camp. And in a marvelous example of fashion eating its own tail, TikTok tutorials began to pop up teaching you to hand-make key chains meant to look like the Miu Miu key chains meant to look like handmade key chains.

How would Jane Birkin feel about young women clipping Labubus to their purse in her name? “I honestly think she would have loved it,” said Marisa Meltzer, author of the forthcoming biography “It Girl: The Life and Legacy of Jane Birkin.”

Birkin herself carried a beloved stuffed animal named Monkey for most of her adult life. When her ex Serge Gainsbourg died in 1991, she buried him with Monkey. “She definitely understood the power of a stuffed animal totem, something that you want to have around you that you bring a lot of meaning to,” Meltzer said.

Labubu also appeals to edgier, less-sentimental corners of culture.

“I think they’ve got that perfect balance of being creepy but cute at the same time,” said Meg Ferry, who was in the process of getting tattooed when we spoke. “It just appeals to everyone.”

Ferry, 24, owns the Karma Club tattoo studio in Lincoln, England. She’s started making a name for herself by tattooing Lububus — onto humans and the dolls themselves, which she adorns with bats, spiderwebs and stars.

Ferry clipped a few of her tattooed dolls to her purse when she attended a tattoo convention in Nottingham, England, at the end of May. They served as compliment magnets, conversation starters and free advertising.

So far, she has sold 40 tattooed dolls on her website and has 20 more that will be available soon. “They usually sell out in seconds,” she said, speaking over the hum of a tattoo gun.