Why is this strange creature dangling from so many bags? And causing crime to be committed?

A less commonly seen Labubu plushie: the head

By Ray Zhang

People—boys and girls, young and old—have been hanging all sorts of stuffed toys from their bags for a long time. So the current craze for a creature with a plumb face, bunny ears, and a serrated-toothy grin dangling from bags has baffled me, somewhat. Labubu, as it is called, has taken our island by storm; it truly reigns. I was quite unaware of its reputation, its seeming cuteness, and how much it is adored until recently. At a social event last month that I had to attend out of obligation, rather than personal interest, one fellow, speaking to another, mentioned Labubu. I was then totally clueless to what or who that was—I had assumed that Labubu was a name. One of the guys said to me, “Huh, you don’t know what Labubu is? How can it be?” Oh, so it isn’t a person. The other chap took out his smartphone and showed me a photo of the subject of their fascination. Oh, that was Labubu!

I have seen that creature before, but did not pay much attention to it as it did not look particularly attractive to me, let alone cute. I had no clue as to what it was called or what it really was. I thought it was a random beast. A week before that chat, I saw a girl of about 18 carrying a Louis Vuitton OnTheGo tote. Instead of the circular coin purse that came with it, she dangled, not one but two Labubus, both in different shades of pink, from the D-ring on the shoulder strap. Days later, I saw a guy with the said dangly doll dressed as a bear, hung from the side belt loop of his cargo pants. Its strange, ultra-wide grin with teeth that could have belonged to the Great White was a little disconcerting to me, so too the obvious brow bone, on which not a short length of hair could be seen. I still had no idea what I was looking at although it certainly was glaring back at me, like something from the Warren’s Occult Museum.

One of the most popular Labubu characters, Fall inWild

Although I am not afflicted by FOMO, I wanted to know more. So I did a little reading. Labubu has a rather multi-nation origin story. It was birthed in 2015 by Hong Kong-born illustrator/painter Lung Ka Sing (or, as he is known globally, Kasing Lung, and in China, 龙家升 or Long Jiasheng), who was raised in the Netherlands from age seven, but is currently based in Belgium. Labubu is, according to the artist, inspired by Nordic fairy tales, but they bear no semblance to the likes of Katie Woodencloak (Norwegian Version of Cinderella). According to what has been shared on social media (where else?), Labubu is essentially an “elf”, not however, the same as those from Rivendell. And it is not the only elf Mr Lung created. In fact, there is a family of them known as The Monsters (not Mother Monster’s followers!). They include other similarly impish characters, such as Zimomo, Tycoco, Spooky and Pato. But, Labubu, a “she”, is the most popular.

I have no idea why Labubu was given the name that now represents her family of elves. Does she look Labubu? It is a moniker that, to me, could have been inspired by the names influencers such as Macau-born, Singapore-based Yoyo Kulala, also known as Yoyo Cao, adopt for themselves. It could be the cuteness of repeated sounds, such as lala and bubu, which sounds very much like baby talk. But this is no kiddie stuff. Labubu is an adult obsession, just as Bear Bricks once were. And not only the young grown-ups crave them. I have seen middle-aged women with their Labubus, dangling from their Kate Spade bags, even stroking the toy while waiting for an MRT train, as if pampering a pet. I was told that although she looks mischievous, Labubu is kind-hearted. How that is established of an inanimate object, I have no idea. But an auntie-killer she is

A statuette of Labubu at the Pop Mart store in Wisma Atria

Labubu and attendant merchandise was conceived by Pop Mart, the Chinese toy company listed on the Hong Kong stock exchange. Pop Mart, known for their “designer toys” sold in blind box format (you do not get to see which version of the toy you intend to buy), such as Skullpanda and Molly, has the exclusive rights to produce the Labubu figurines and plush toys, which, when launched in 2019, allowed the retailer’s revenue derived from the inaugural series to break the sales record in the art toy category, according to media reports. I guess Pop Mart’s strong distribution network is behind the brand’s and, in turn, Labubu’s hard-to-fathom success. I mean, they are just toys, aren’t they? Of course, that question was met with disdain. When I went around, inquiring about Labubu, one question is often shot at me: “Have you visited Pop Mart?”

So I did. There are now about 20 Pop Marts across our island. I was warned that they would be packed, even at a counter-under-an-escalator at Century Square. That fact I was aware, as I have passed the Pop Mart outlet at Wisma Atria, and was often puzzled by how frequently packed the store was. One late Monday morning, I made my way there. The lack of a queue was conspicuous, but inside, it was busy enough to make browsing a tad uncomfortable. If you thought that only kids come here, you’d be very, very wrong. Adults, even sexagenarians, were here. I didn’t know where to start until I spotted a Labubu statuette further inside. At the display island, there were no key-ring plushies to be found, only some figurines housed in the famously-opaque boxes. A gangly guy suddenly appeared next to me, picked up a box after another, and shook them. I was puzzled and asked him what he was doing. He educated me: “To try to guess what is inside.” You can? How? “There are tips online. You can go learn”.

Labubu sharing designer-bag exterior space with another Pop Mart character Crybaby

How dull I was in my head! Burning with embarrassment, I walked away and caught sight of another display, now against a wall. The main character here was Labubu dressed as the Merlion. Interestingly, it bore an uncanny resemblance to the Merlion Bearista Bear at Starbucks. I had read of the mayhem during the August sale of the Merlion Labubu at the Pop Toy Show at Marina Bay Sands. The “pushing and shoving” was so bad that the police was called in to manage the crowd. Some even described the tussle as “fighting”. Well, here it was, that Labubu, retailing for S$35, so many scuffled over for. When I asked a salesgirl to get me one, she said, “Oh, that one early early sold out.” So there isn’t any Labubu plushie in the store at all. She said, patiently, “You come in the morning, lah. Many people come before the shop opens.” And what time would that be. “I don’t know. Sometimes, when I come to work, they are queuing already.” And when would the next batch be available? “We are not sure. These are random drops.”

Labubu’s staggering rise is, in no small part, also due to Pranpriya Manoban’s (aka Lisa or Alisa of Blackpink) online “endorsement” of it. Between gigs as an LV ambassador and releasing singles as a solo vocalist, she allows herself the odd toy. Things reached a frenzy when Ms Manoban shared on Instagram an image of her hugging a yet-to-be-unboxed Fall in Wild Labubu (followed by group mate Rosé Park with her Sea Salt Coconut Labubu). According to social media reveals (or speculations), it was creator Lung Ka Sing who gifted the Thai K-pop singer with a custom “mega” Labubu (does she buy anything for herself?). Lalisa and Labubu have, of course, a nice ring to it, and it didn’t take long for her fans to go mad about the doll. Labubu quickly hit the big time, beginning in Ms Manoban’s native Thailand (even actor Mario Maurer showed his off on IG. In one post, he was posing with Mr Lung himself), and then filtering down to our city state.

If you need an introduction to Labubu,, there is a plaque to explain his origin in the Pop Mart store in K11 Art Mall, Tsim Shan Tsui, Hong Kong. Photo: Perrier Cheng for SOTD

So immense the craze for Labubu has been that the creatures started appearing with our political figures and at religious festivals. Last October, Sengkang West branch chairman Lam Pin Min (蓝彬明, Lan Binmin), an opthalmologist, shared on Facebook a bespectacled Labubu, making her party affiliation known: The doll was togged in all white, and included a PAP logo—as large as her pupil—on her left chest. Later, the same Labubu appeared on TikTok, enjoying being passed around by Mr Lim’s beaming team. The grassroots theme continued when Labubu, dressed as a Taoist devotee (complete with a yellow sash!), appeared at this year’s festival of the Nine Emperor Gods (九王爷诞, jiu wang ye dan), mostly observed by the Hokkiens and Teochews of our island. Labubus were apparently passed around among the priests conducting the rites and rituals at Ling Lian Bao Dian (凌莲宝殿), a temple in Tampines, much to the chagrin of some observers who thought the presence of the doll was “disrespectful”. But one of the GFC’s MPs Baey Yam Keng (马炎庆, Ma Yanqing) did not think so. He shared on Threads a photograph of himself, holding not one but two Labubus togged in outfits ready for temple rituals!

Labubus are hard to come by, at least through official channels: the Pop Mart stores. (Even at their outlets in Hong Kong, a friend told me, asking for the toy have mostly been Singaporeans. Why is he so sure? “Aiya, you can tell they when they speak, lah!”). The mad desire to own (or resell) Labubus has tempted some individuals to try illegal means. One of the most popular source is the claw machine. As recent as early this week, three boys managed to access a claw box in Yishun and made off with five Labubus worth about S$300, The Straits Times reported. But that was not an isolated case. Another three were nicked at Dr Clawtopus in Sim Lim Square last month. Others attempted to bring in the dolls and foregoing GST. One woman, apparently returning from a trip to London, was stopped by customs officers, and in her suitcase, they found, among luxury bags and accessories, Labubus. She was fined.

A Labubu can be so precious to its owners that the creature is carried in its own vinyl, see-through bag to prevent damage or staining

For a small stuffed toy, Labubu is not cheap—not at all. Of course, the deliberate rarity makes it worse. And the unpredictable drops, even in Pop Mart stores, do not encourage consumer patience. Those who must have a Labubu, I gathered, have no objection to splurging. It is undeniably, a seller’s market. Average price is S$35 for a regular elf (compared to, say, a Hello Kitty keyring-plushie which can be bought for around S$10). But special editions or discontinued ones are enjoying astronomical asking prices. They could go from S$50 to as high as S$2,811 for a rare one, such as she togged in Vans (peddled on Novelship). And that is not the most outrageously priced. On Ebay, one ‘Labubu Pilot’ is asking to be bought for S$14, 088! That is very close to the price of a new Chanel Classic 11.12 handbag!

And that is not considering the countless accessories you could buy to customise your Labubu. As the keyring-plushies are expensive and are meant to be hung on bags and, more importantly, seen, many owners want to protect them. So the first item to buy is a case. These can be hard or soft, and are always clear. And they can, I was shocked to discover, cost as much as the doll itself. And as many owners want their Labubus to have a wardrobe of fashionable threads, clothes for the elves are available too. A few days ago, I came face to face with a Labubu togged head-to-toe in Chanel, including the signature quilted bag! She can be as well dressed as Barbie. And clothing isn’t all there is to prettify your Labubu. There are even coloured braces for the teeth-baring Labubu. Why the perfectly flat and permanently exposed pearlies need braces is quite beyond me, but, for those who desire their elves to have dental decorations, they are covered.

As the elves are somewhat top-front heavy, they tend to be inward-facing when hung

These days, there are as many people who wish to buy Labubu as those who desire to hawk them. And while Pop Mart is the official retailer, the elf is also sold by third-party vendors. One of them that I keep seeing is a stall at the basement of One Raffles Place. While Pop Mart is constantly short of stock, this seller, with their wares spread on a table, is full of Labubus in various iterations. I can’t vouch for their authenticity, but I did ask the proprietor if there were original. She looked at me disdainfully and said, “of course” and turned away. Another seller with seemingly massive supply is the livestream retailer Vanity Closet. Early in November, they sold their cache of Labubus—“limited-edition series you won’t find anywhere else (but they did)”—during a Facebook session described as “a jaw-dropping experience”. It was the usual sale chatter of the husband-and-wife team behind the selling. The Labubus moved fast, but I cannot say with certainty if GST on those plushies were paid.

Labubu is now its own industry (a friend corrected me and called it “ecosystem”), with even a personal anthem to its name: the Labubu Song, which some described to be more annoying than the Don Donki ditty played on loop in stores. You can really hear them even when the fluffy creatures are mute! I don’t know why a song that seems to target toddlers could be pleasing to adult ears. In fact, I have never seen kids with Labubus. They are often carried by adults, who mostly hang their choice of Labubu on a luxury bag. Charms are, of course, trending now, but those, such as Fendi’s lollipop case, are prohibitively priced. A Labubu makes for a more affordable option and a talking point. And if you pay an astronomical amount for it, the better it goes with your costly bag. By the looks of things, Labubu is here to stay. And grin.

Note: We are unable to vouch for the authenticity of the Labubus seen here. They are featured for illustrative and entertainment purpose only. Photos: Zhao Xiangji