A strange new collectible has taken Thailand—and the global internet—by storm. Over the past few months, wild-eyed, snaggle-toothed little creatures known as Labubu have appeared dangling from backpacks, crowding keychains, and starring in viral YouTube unboxing videos. To many, their sudden popularity seemed to come from nowhere. The fever hit new heights after a famous K-pop star was spotted carrying a Labubu, instantly launching them into the imaginations and wishlists of a generation. Now, they’re the must-have item for young Thais and adults alike, with some rare versions fetching eye-watering prices in local and international collectible markets.
While the appeal of these so-called “ugly-cute” toys may puzzle outsiders, recent reporting and psychological analysis reveal this is no passing fad. According to an article in Forbes, two distinct psychological forces drive the Labubu craze: nostalgia and the addictive thrill of the “blind box” purchasing experience (Forbes).
To understand why Labubu resonates so powerfully in Thailand—and what risks the craze might pose—it’s important to look at the emotional and cultural forces shaping our relationship with toys in the digital era.
Labubu’s origins are unremarkable at first glance. Created by the artist Kasing Lung, Labubu started life as a quirky cartoon character, popular mostly in niche circles. But the collectible toy versions caught fire after celebrity exposure, and the market soon exploded. There are now over 300 distinct Labubu figurines on the market, each with its own style and storyline. Yet the genius of the product may be in how it’s sold: through “blind boxes,” which mean buyers never know exactly which figurine they’ll get until they open the box.
A recent interview with a clinical psychologist, cited in Forbes, sheds light on why even grown adults find themselves so taken by Labubu. “The current Labubu mania isn’t surprising from a psychological point of view,” says the expert. The first key driver is nostalgia. For Thai consumers in their teens, twenties and thirties, Labubu taps memories of oddball toys from their childhood—whether it was Troll Dolls, Furby, or famous local mascots from television shows. “Each generation carries deep emotional attachments to toys from their youth, no matter how unconventional,” the psychologist explains. “Labubu is just the most recent manifestation of this universal psychological phenomenon.”
Modern research has confirmed that nostalgia provides important psychological benefits. A 2013 review published in Social and Personality Psychology Compass notes nostalgia can be “an invaluable psychological resource,” boosting mood, identity and feelings of meaning, especially during uncertain times (Social and Personality Psychology Compass). For many—especially in Thailand, where economic anxieties, rapid technological change, and COVID-19-related disruptions still echo—the simple joys of childhood feel ever more precious.
When someone buys a Labubu, the expert proposes, “they’re not just seeking a collectible—they’re after a feeling. It’s a sense of familiarity, or a momentary hit of child-like wonder.” In the context of Thai culture, where family and tradition hold unique importance, these symbols of innocence are especially resonant. It’s no surprise, then, that adults and working professionals, not just teens, are now snapping up Labupu figures.
The second psychological driver is built right into the product: the unpredictable excitement of blind boxes. Like online gaming’s “loot boxes” or even casino slot machines, Labubu buyers experience a burst of suspense—will their purchase reveal a common toy or a rare, expensive ultra-collector’s item? This randomized reward mechanism is known to be deeply addictive, especially for young people. A 2021 study published in New Media & Society confirmed a strong link between loot box mechanics and gambling-related behaviors, particularly among youth (New Media & Society).
The psychological “high” of anticipation ensures some fans seek the thrill repeatedly. According to the Forbes analysis, “this mechanism is specifically designed to hook buyers in. While most people enjoy the occasional blind box opening, buying thirty in the hopes of pulling that one ultra-rare toy can lead to riskier behaviors.” The danger is amplified by intensive social media hype, peer competition, and limited-edition releases—features that have made Labubu as much a status symbol as a source of joy.
In practical terms, the Labubu craze is fueling record spending on collectibles across Southeast Asia. In Thailand, local toy shops and dedicated pop-up stalls report unprecedented sales, often with lines forming outside before restocks. Rare Labubu toys are now appearing with huge mark-ups on Thai e-commerce platforms. Reports from collectible market analysts suggest the trend has given a boost to independent Thai retailers, toy shops, and online resellers (Bangkok Post), mirroring similar “ugly-cute” mania seen previously with imported Western brands like Beanie Babies or Pokémon in the 1990s.
Yet, there are genuine social and financial risks. As one Thai child psychologist from a leading Bangkok hospital observes, “the excitement of collecting can be a wholesome, creative activity, but the randomness of blind boxes can mimic gambling psychology, especially for vulnerable adolescents. That’s why it’s vital for parents to talk with their children about healthy collecting habits and money management.” The psychologist stresses that labeling Labubu as “just a toy” misses the point: “it’s a cultural phenomenon with complex psychological roots and potentially lasting impacts.”
Thai pop culture provides fertile ground for such collectible crazes. The success of Labubu arrives on the heels of past memory-driven trends—most recently the revival of Tamagotchi, Japanese gachapon vending toys, and the resurgence of vintage local toys on social networks like TikTok and Facebook. Each wave demonstrates how nostalgia and surprise remain powerful motivators even in modern, digitally-connected Thailand.
However, in a society where status and luck are often intertwined in local belief—seen in everything from auspicious lottery numbers to “lucky” amulets—the random chance of blind boxes aligns uncannily with deeper Thai cultural attitudes toward fortune and destiny. Some Thai cultural commentators see the craze as a reflection not just of global trends, but also of enduring local values: a playful way to flirt with fate, chase magic, and claim a little piece of rare happiness in everyday life.
Looking to the future, Labubu frenzy seems likely to continue as long as the formula remains novel and rare items retain their prestige. As more brands rush to replicate the blind box model, consumer protection advocates are urging greater transparency—a call echoed in several countries where the sale of random toys to children now faces legal scrutiny. In Thailand, there are currently no explicit laws regulating blind box sales, though public health agencies are beginning to investigate the effects of digital-age gambling mechanics on youth (Thai PBS).
For Thai readers caught up in Labubu mania, the lesson is clear: collecting can be a source of happiness, community, and nostalgia. But experts warn moderation is crucial. Set spending limits, talk candidly with children, and remember that, while the hunt for ultra-rares can feel thrilling, the greatest rewards may be the moments of fun and connection collectibles inspire.
For those who’ve yet to join, it’s worth taking a moment to consider the powerful psychological and cultural currents now driving the Labubu wave. It isn’t just about cute toys or fleeting online trends; it’s a story of memory, mystery, and our never-ending search for a little magic in modern Thailand.
For more information on healthy collecting habits and spotting signs of problematic behavior, consult local mental health services or visit the Thai Ministry of Public Health’s resources on youth wellbeing (Thai Ministry of Public Health).