The House of Labubu

What if I told you that a nine-toothed cartoon elf with a sneaky grin just made more money last year than most Hollywood blockbusters?

Meet Labubu, the unlikely star of Pop Mart, a Chinese company that has turned buying mystery boxes into a global obsession worth $47 billion.

This isn't just another toy story.

Pop Mart has cracked the code on something much bigger: turning the simple act of opening a box into an experience that millions of adults around the world can't resist.

I first learned about this craze through a friend in Hong Kong who couldn't quite explain why these little toys had taken over Asia. "You have to see it to understand," she said. When I visited a Pop Mart store there myself, the place was absolutely packed.

From packed stores in Hong Kong to celebrity Instagram posts, Pop Mart has built an empire by understanding exactly what makes people tick in the digital age.

Pop Mart started small in 2010 as a single specialty store in Beijing. Founder Wang Ning had a simple idea: what if toys weren't just for kids? What if you could create collectible figures that adults would actually want to display on their desks, shelves, and social media feeds?

The breakthrough came when Pop Mart discovered the power of the "blind box." Instead of selling toys in clear packages where you could see exactly what you were getting, they sealed everything in mystery boxes. Each box contains one of twelve possible figures in a series, plus a rare thirteenth "secret" figure that only appears in less than 1% of boxes.

This simple twist changed everything.

Suddenly, buying a toy became like playing the lottery. The uncertainty, the anticipation, the thrill of possibly getting something rare all tapped into something deep in human psychology that kept customers coming back for more.

The numbers are huge. In 2024 alone, Pop Mart made $1.8 billion in revenue, a 107% increase from the previous year. They now operate over 530 stores and 2,500 vending machines across nearly 100 countries. Their profit margins hit 66.8%, making them more profitable than most tech companies.

The viral explosion came in April 2024 when Lisa from the K-pop group Blackpink posted a casual photo on Instagram. She was at Coachella, carrying a designer handbag with a small Labubu keychain attached. It wasn't an ad or a sponsored post, just a genuine moment shared with her 104 million followers.

The effect was explosive. Within weeks, demand for Labubu products increased by 400%. Resale prices shot up by 741%. Pop Mart's stock price soared nearly 600% over the following year. CEO Wang Ning's personal wealth jumped from $1.8 billion to $21.1 billion, making him one of the richest people in China.

In Lisa's home country of Thailand, Labubu became a cultural phenomenon. The Thai government officially appointed Labubu as the “Amazing Thailand Experience Explorer” in a grand ceremony at Bangkok's Suvarnabhumi Airport, complete with government ministers in attendance. Buddhist monks were photographed with the characters at temples. When Pop Mart opened a store in Bangkok, it recorded over $1.4 million in sales on the first day alone.

What makes Labubu so appealing? Unlike traditional cute characters, Labubu has an edge. Those nine sharp teeth and slightly scary grin make it both cute and a little bit dangerous at the same time. Design experts call this "anti-cute" appeal, and it connects perfectly with Gen Z buyers who don't want overly clean, corporate looks.

However, this edgy look has also caused controversy. Western commentary and social media conspiracy theories have emerged claiming Labubu resembles Pazuzu, the Mesopotamian demon featured in "The Exorcist." These claims fall apart under scrutiny. Creator Kasing Lung has repeatedly stated that he drew inspiration from Nordic folklore and Scandinavian fairy tales he encountered while growing up in the Netherlands, not ancient Mesopotamian demons. Despite the lack of evidence, these theories gained enough traction that authorities in Iraq's Kurdistan Region banned the doll, and Russian officials proposed similar restrictions.

Despite going global, Labubu's appeal stays mostly focused on Asian and Asian-American communities. Walk into any Pop Mart store in Los Angeles or New York, and you'll find primarily Asian customers, with limited crossover to other demographic groups. This isn't unique to Labubu. The broader "kidult" collecting culture that Pop Mart has mastered stays mostly unknown to Western buyers outside of Asian diaspora communities.

The character's viral moments (Lisa's Instagram post, appearances at Thai temples, celebrity sightings with Rihanna and Dua Lipa) all originated from or were amplified by Asian cultural networks. Even when Western celebrities adopt Labubu, it often reflects Asia's growing cultural influence rather than organic Western embrace of the aesthetic.

Pop Mart didn't accidentally stumble onto success. They've used human psychology in ways that would make casino designers jealous. The blind box format exploits what scientists call "variable reward schedules," the same mechanism that makes slot machines so addictive.

Here's how it works: when you don't know what reward you'll get, your brain releases more dopamine than when you know exactly what's coming. That uncertainty creates a powerful craving that keeps you coming back. Academic research on blind box psychology shows that about 30% of revenue from these types of "gacha" mechanics comes from people at moderate to high risk for gambling addiction.

This works very much like loot crates in popular video games like Counter-Strike and Overwatch. Players spend real money on digital boxes containing random virtual items, creating the same psychological hooks as physical blind boxes. Gaming regulators have already moved to restrict these practices. Belgium banned loot boxes in 2018, classifying them as gambling. If awareness grows that physical blind boxes operate on identical psychological principles, similar regulations could follow.

Pop Mart makes this effect stronger through fake scarcity. Limited edition releases and time-constrained sales create Fear of Missing Out (FOMO) that bypasses rational thinking. Research shows that 60% of people make purchases because of FOMO, usually within 24 hours of first exposure.

The community aspect adds another layer. Pop Mart has built lively online communities with over 700,000 followers creating hundreds of thousands of user posts. Collectors share their rare finds, trade duplicates, and bond over their shared obsession. These personal connections with toy characters provide comfort and stability for many collectors, creating real social connections through shared interests.

The typical Pop Mart customer is a 21-30 year old woman with disposable income who uses social media heavily. Business analysis research shows active collectors often spend over $500 per month, with some reporting that Pop Mart purchases consume 20% of their total disposable income. These aren't casual buyers. They're deeply engaged fans building meaningful collections.

Pop Mart's success in Asia makes perfect sense when you understand the cultural context. In countries like Japan, South Korea, and China, "cute culture" extends far beyond childhood. Adults openly embrace character goods as lifestyle accessories without social stigma. This acceptance of "kidult" behavior created perfect conditions for Pop Mart's growth.

The "kidult" phenomenon first emerged in Japan during the 1990s, spread across East Asia in the 2000s, and now appears to be gaining traction among younger Americans. This cultural shift reflects changing attitudes toward adulthood. Where previous generations marked maturity through traditional milestones, today's young adults increasingly embrace childhood comforts as stress relief and self-expression. From adult sleepaway camps to collectible toys, Pop Mart's U.S. expansion is both riding and accelerating this trend.

But expanding to Western markets has proven more challenging. American toy culture is fundamentally different. We grew up with action figures tied to movies and TV shows, characters with rich backstories and detailed universes. Pop Mart's deliberately "story-less" characters don't carry the same cultural weight for American consumers.

Even Pop Mart's American stores primarily attract Asian Americans, with limited appeal to the broader market. To break through, the company has partnered with familiar Western brands like Disney and Marvel. The strategy is working, Pop Mart's Disney Princess collection and Marvel character series helped drive their North American revenue up 556.9% in 2024. But there's a catch: this approach risks diluting their identity as a cultural innovator.

The contrast with American competitor Funko is stark.

While Funko built their empire by licensing existing characters from popular culture, Pop Mart develops original intellectual property through partnerships with artists. This gives Pop Mart higher profit margins but requires them to build emotional connections from scratch in each new market.

One of Pop Mart's most admirable innovations is how they treat artists. Instead of hiding creators behind corporate brands, they celebrate them as stars. Kenny Wong, creator of the Molly character, received a 2% equity stake now worth about $127 million. He's treated like a rockstar at designer toy conventions, with fans lining up for autographs.

This artist-first approach has attracted top creative talent from around the world. Pop Mart manages 93 different intellectual properties like a venture capital portfolio, with varying levels of investment based on market performance. Successful characters get 6-8 new series annually, while others get 2-4 series for testing.

The company can bring new designs from concept to market in just six months, remarkably fast for the toy industry. This speed allows them to respond quickly to trends and continuously offer something new to their collecting communities.

Hong Kong artist Kasing Lung, creator of Labubu, exemplifies this success. Before partnering with Pop Mart, Lung was a talented but relatively unknown designer. Now his creation is recognized globally, and he's achieving the kind of cultural influence that seemed impossible for Asian artists just a decade ago.

Pop Mart's business model isn't without controversy. Critics argue that blind boxes constitute a form of gambling that targets vulnerable consumers. The random nature of the products can trigger compulsive buying behaviors, with some customers purchasing dozens of boxes trying to complete sets.

One infamous example involved a customer in China who bought 106 KFC meals just to get a complete set of Pop Mart collaboration toys. Stories like this prompted government warnings about "irrational buying frenzy" and led to new regulations in some markets.

Quality control has struggled to keep up with viral demand. When Labubu exploded in popularity, production scaling led to widespread complaints about crooked heads, visible seams, mismatched limbs, and other defects. The success also attracted a massive counterfeit market, with "Lafufu" knockoffs flooding online marketplaces.

Pop Mart sits at the intersection of several major trends reshaping entertainment and retail. As more of our lives move digital, physical objects that you can touch, display, and show off become more valuable, not less. You can't screenshot the experience of opening a blind box or the satisfaction of arranging rare figures on your shelf.

Plans for a Labubu animated series and feature film launching in summer 2025, plus the existing Pop Land theme park in Beijing spanning 40,000 square meters ~6.5 football fields, show ambitions to build a comprehensive entertainment empire around these characters.

Regulation poses the biggest long-term threat. As more governments examine whether blind boxes constitute gambling, Pop Mart may face pressure to fundamentally alter their core business model. The challenge is that mystery and excess are central to their appeal. Remove the uncertainty, and you remove much of what makes the products special.

What Pop Mart has built goes beyond a toy company. They've created a new category of global entertainment that combines art, psychology, technology, and community in ways that didn't exist before. They've taken the designer toy aesthetic from niche galleries and made it mass market. They've turned unknown artists into international celebrities.

Most significantly, Pop Mart represents a broader shift in global cultural flows. For decades, cultural products moved primarily from West to East. Pop Mart’s ability to generate nearly 40% of revenue from international markets shows that Chinese creative content can compete globally on its own terms.

Labubu’s meteoric rise is more than a commercial triumph, it marks a new frontier for Chinese soft power. For the first time, a Chinese-created intellectual property has become a global consumer craze, not through state planning or government campaigns, but through organic, bottom-up momentum. Plush Labubu toys have become status symbols among celebrities and fans worldwide, selling out in minutes and fetching eye-watering prices on the resale market.

Unlike Japan’s government-backed “Cool Japan” initiative or South Korea’s state-driven K-wave, Labubu’s success is accidental soft power: a quirky, emotionally resonant figure that makes China feel playful, creative, and accessible. The phenomenon signals a potential shift in how Chinese culture is perceived abroad.

This is China’s answer to Pokémon or K-pop: a homegrown character, propelled by fandoms and social media, that has captured the world’s imagination. In an era when global perceptions of China are often shaped by geopolitics and surveillance, Labubu offers a disarming, human face to Chinese creativity. It’s a sign that China’s cultural exports can now evoke emotion, status, and belonging on a global scale.

Pop Mart has understood something fundamental about human nature: we want to be surprised, we want to feel special, and we want objects that connect us to communities of like-minded people.

They've built a $47 billion empire by giving people exactly that.

The success of characters like Labubu proves that great design and authentic emotional connection can transcend cultural boundaries. Showing a path for Hong Kong and Chinese artists to have their creations featured on a global stage.

Pop Mart has shown that in our increasingly digital world, the simple joy of opening something unexpected still has extraordinary power.

That might be the most valuable lesson of all.