Look, my DMs and emails have been a wild place for the past few months.
It used to be the usual stuff: "When are you restocking the Macaron series?" or "Any tips for pulling a secret?" Now, I'm getting messages at 2 AM asking, "I think my Labubu moved. Is Labubus haunted?"
It all started with a few viral TikToks. Someone connects Labubu's pointy ears and toothy grin to Pazuzu, a demon from Mesopotamian mythology (and, you know, The Exorcist). Suddenly, a niche designer toy from Hong Kong is at the center of a global paranormal panic.
As the owner of PopNya, where we live and breathe these figures, I've watched this whole thing unfold with a mix of amusement and, honestly, a little frustration. So, let's talk about it. For real.
First, let's get the obvious out of the way. The idea that these are mass-produced demonic vessels is, to put it mildly, a stretch. But I get it. They don't look like Barbie. The design is intentionally mischievous. Kasing Lung, the creator, draws heavily from the whimsical, sometimes dark, world of European fairy tales. His creatures aren't meant to be conventionally "cute" like a Sanrio character. They have personality. They have little fangs and expressive, sometimes chaotic, energy. That's the point. That's why we love them. It's what separates a designer toy from a simple doll. If you want to understand the artist's real vision, it's a world away from the spooky stories; it's about exploring a world of quirky monsters who are more mischievous than malevolent.
The character of Labubu is a kind-hearted, if clumsy and goofy, monster. She lives in a forest with her friends, gets into trouble, and has adventures. She's no more evil than Bugs Bunny is for constantly outsmarting Elmer Fudd. The narrative has been twisted by people who don't know the lore and are just reacting to a 15-second, creepily-lit video.
But here's the part that no one else is talking about: the market. Why are Labubus bad for your bank account? The irony is that this "evil Labubu" trend has been incredibly good for business.
I saw it happen in real-time. The Labubu Macaron series was a steady seller. Retail is about $17 a box. For a while, you could find them easily. After the first "demonic Labubu" video hit 10 million views, that series vanished. Not just from our store, but everywhere. On StockX and eBay, individual, non-secret figures that were selling for $20-$25 suddenly shot up to $50, then $60. People weren't just buying them; they were hunting them. The controversy made them more desirable.
This creates a huge problem for real collectors and a massive opportunity for scammers. The demand is so high that factories are pumping out fakes at an alarming rate. I've had at least three customers email me pictures of a Labubu they bought on a marketplace site, asking why the paint was chipping or the ears were bent. It's because they bought a counterfeit. The hype is making people desperate, and they're getting ripped off. If you're worried about getting a fake, you're right to be; it's a bigger risk than ever.
Real Talk: My Honest Take as a Seller
Okay, let's just be blunt. Are Labubus bad? No. They're pieces of vinyl. They're art. The question itself is kind of silly. But the hype around them? That can be bad.
It's bad if it makes you spend money you don't have on a secondary market bubble that's bound to pop. It's bad if it ropes you into buying a cheap knock-off. And honestly, it's bad if it's genuinely making you scared. The whole point of collecting is to bring you joy, not to give you nightmares. If a little vinyl monster with pointy ears freaks you out, you absolutely should not buy one. Spend your money on something that makes you happy.
For me, the whole "are labubus evil or good" debate misses the entire point of the art form. They aren't good or evil. They just are. They're a canvas for Kasing Lung's imagination and, by extension, our own. The fact that so many people are now drawing their own Labubus, creating fan art, and building a positive community around them is a much more interesting story than the spooky one.
This controversy has separated the tourists from the residents in the world of designer toys. The tourists are the ones paying $100 for a standard Macaron figure because they saw it on TikTok. The residents are the ones who know the artist, understand the design language, and are patiently waiting for the hype to die down so they can complete their collection without taking out a second mortgage.
I have a shelf in my office with over 100 Labubus on it. Some are from the very first series, some are jumbo-sized, and some are the latest releases. The scariest thing that has ever happened in that room is me tripping over a box of packing peanuts. They don't move. They don't whisper. They just sit there, looking awesome. The only spirit they're possessed by is the spirit of creativity.
Here's a little insider detail the paranormal investigators on social media missed. It's a perfect example of how this whole thing is based on a misunderstanding. Many of the viral videos show older series, like the first "The Monsters" collection. Those figures had a very glossy vinyl finish. In a dimly lit room, that gloss can catch the light in strange ways. It can distort the face, making the smile look more like a sinister grimace.
Now, look at a newer series like "Fall in Wild." The vinyl has a beautiful, matte finish. It doesn't reflect light the same way. It looks softer, less harsh. Pop Mart and Kasing Lung are constantly refining the production. It's not a sign of a demonic presence; it's a change in manufacturing specifications. It's a detail only someone who handles these toys every single day would notice.
So, why are Labubus bad according to the internet? Because of shadows, confirmation bias, and a viral algorithm that rewards sensationalism. People want to believe it's haunted because it's a more exciting story than "I bought a cool toy." They see a shadow move and their brain, primed by the videos, screams "ghost!" instead of "a car's headlights just passed by my window."
My advice? If you love the design, buy it. If you're buying it because you think it's a trendy paranormal artifact, maybe save your money. The real magic of Labubu isn't in some made-up curse; it's in the art, the community, and the simple joy of unboxing a figure you've been waiting for. It's about finding that one character that speaks to you, whether it's the one with a flower on its head or the one dressed like a little cupcake.
This whole episode will eventually fade, becoming a weird footnote in the history of designer toys. The people who are panic-buying today will be the ones panic-selling in a few months when the next viral trend takes over. And those of us who were here before the hype, and will be here long after, will still be here, happily arranging our shelves and appreciating these wonderful, mischievous, and completely harmless little monsters.
If you're curious to see what all the fuss is about, and you want to decide for yourself if they're delightful or devilish, you can always browse LABUBU figures in our shop. Just promise me you won't email me at 3 AM if you hear a creak in your floorboards. It's probably just your house settling.
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