The Labubu effect: Gambling psychology meets cuteness

The Labubu effect / House of Conversation

We didn’t mean to fall for it. But there we were — eyes closed, hands hovering over a tiny mystery box, whispering our chosen colours like it was a spiritual ceremony. 

Labubu had us, and we hadn’t even unwrapped it yet.

On the count of three, we opened our eyes.

We did not get the one we wanted. And yet... we still loved it. And we wanted more.

This is how it starts.

This is how a fuzzy, bug-eyed creature that looks like a cross between a gremlin and a Beanie Baby wormed its way into our brains...and our bank accounts.

Labubu, the flagship toy of Hong Kong-born artist Kasing Lung and Chinese toy giant Pop Mart, has swept through Australia like a cute little financial tornado. 

Since its launch in 2023, people have lined up at 3am outside Pop Mart stores, waited 12 hours to get their hands on one, paid others to camp overnight, and flooded resell platforms with inflated listings of "rare" colourways. Every toy is sold in a blind box, so you never know what you’re going to get, which is the entire point.

This isn’t just about a toy. 

It’s about intermittent reinforcement, the same psychological mechanism that powers poker machines and loot boxes. Your brain keeps chasing the reward because it doesn’t come every time.

The unpredictability is addictive. The potential payoff, the rush of pulling the exact one you want, is more intoxicating than the toy itself.

It’s gambling. But make it adorable.

And sure, it’s easy to roll your eyes until you’re in it. But once you start, you start negotiating with yourself.

"Maybe just one more," you say, like you're at a bar after midnight. "Just one more try for the pink one."

You know it’s a little unhinged. But it’s only $30 — basically the cost of that serum you swore was “an investment in your skin.” Except now you’ve bought three and could’ve funded your whole skincare routine for the month.

But here’s where it gets more interesting. Pop Mart’s rise has happened in parallel with something else: a cultural craving for comfort.

We’re broke, burnt out, and doom-scrolling daily. Traditional investments feel boring, out of reach, and wildly impersonal.

But Labubu? That’s joy in a box. A dopamine hit you can film and share. It’s nostalgia. It’s escapism. It’s something that feels good in your hands when everything else feels a bit chaotic.

Unboxing a Labubu scratches the same itch that Pokémon cards and footy trading cards did in primary school, except now, you’re 24, drinking an iced oat latte, and watching resellers price the one you want at $300 on Facebook Marketplace.

And it’s not just the thrill, it’s the ritual.

I hadn’t collected anything since the glittery gel pens craze in Year 6. And yet here I was, eyes closed, counting to three with my partner, hoping we’d finally pulled the green one.

But let’s be real: these toys are not an investment strategy.

According to NAB’s Director of Investor Behaviour, once something hits full-blown hype, the value almost always goes down. 

Toys are designed to be enjoyed, not to generate income. There’s no long-term gain here, just the illusion of rarity and a fear of missing out.

And yet, I don’t regret buying one. Not even a little. Because for all the chaos of the algorithm and consumer culture, this one felt like fun. It wasn’t a financial decision. It was a small, silly, joyful one. The kind that gives you a memory, a laugh, or just a very weird-looking creature to perch on your bookshelf.

So no, Labubu won’t build your wealth. But it might build your serotonin.

And sometimes, that’s a pretty solid return.

M x