Let's get this out of the way immediately.
No, "getting a Labubu" is not secret internet slang for getting a lobotomy.
I've seen the TikToks. I've read the threads. I've even seen the half-joking, half-serious entries on Urban Dictionary. As the owner of PopNya and someone who has boxes of these little guys in my office right now, I can tell you this whole thing is a fascinating, bizarre, and very recent case of an internet meme taking on a life of its own.
Honestly, it's been wild to watch. For years, Labubu has been a beloved character in the designer toy world, created by the incredibly talented artist Kasing Lung. For us collectors, Labubu represents mischief, adventure, and the pure joy of Kasing's whimsical art style. Then, around early 2024, something shifted. The viral "The Monsters" blind box series, especially the Macarons, blew up on a scale none of us were prepared for.
Suddenly, my inbox was full of questions. Not just "Do you have Lychee Berry in stock?" but questions like, "Is Labubu demonic?" or "What is the labubu slang meaning?" It felt like it happened overnight. A character we've loved for its charm was now associated with something... Well, creepy.
So where did this even come from?
The Birth of a Bizarre Meme
From what I can piece together, it started as a joke on platforms like TikTok and Threads. Someone, somewhere, looked at Labubu's wide, staring eyes, its toothy, ambiguous grin, and made a leap. "This thing looks like it's had a lobotomy." Or maybe, "Getting one of these is like getting a lobotomy."
It's the kind of off-the-cuff comment that usually dies in a reply section. But it didn't.
The comment latched on. It was edgy. It was weird. It was shareable. People started running with it, creating a sort of fake lore. This is where the labubu urban dictionary-style definitions began to surface. They were user-submitted, completely fabricated, and had zero connection to the toy's actual origin. The idea was so absurd that it became funny, and in the strange currency of the internet, that makes it valuable.
Think about it: Labubu's design is intentionally simple. It's a canvas for different themes and costumes. But that simplicity, the wide, unblinking eyes and the set smile, can be interpreted in any way. To a long-time fan, it's cute and mischievous. To a newcomer scrolling their For You Page at 1 AM, seeing it for the first time out of context? I can almost see how their brain got there. Almost.
This is a classic example of what I call "lore collapse." The original story and intent created by the artist get flattened by the sheer force of a viral meme. Kasing Lung's vision of a mischievous little monster exploring a fantasy world is much more nuanced and gentle than the internet's dark joke. If you're curious about the real heart of the character, it's worth reading about the artist Kasing Lung and his creative journey, because it's a world away from this slang nonsense.
The Great Divide: Collector vs. The TikTok Trend
This whole situation has created a fascinating split in perception. On one side, you have the established collector community, primarily in Asia (Hong Kong, Thailand, Mainland China, Singapore) but also with a strong global presence. For us, Labubu is part of the "Zimomo" monster family. We know the names of the different figures, we hunt for the chase, and we appreciate the artistry. We discuss paint quality, box condition, and the subtle differences between series.
I remember when the Fall in Wild series came out. The community was buzzing about the fuzzy texture on the Mushroom figure and the beautiful gradient on the Leaf. That's our world.
On the other side, you have the new wave of mainstream attention, driven almost entirely by the labubu slang meme. This audience isn't necessarily interested in Kasing Lung's art or the history of designer toys. They're here for the trend. They see a cute/creepy rabbit-thing that's all over their feed, and they want in.
This isn't inherently a bad thing. But it does create confusion. The "lobotomy" slang often gets tangled up with other bizarre rumors, like the idea that Labubu is somehow demonic. I've had to reassure more than one customer that no, these are not cursed objects. They're vinyl toys. Fun ones! It's a bit silly that it even has to be said, but the internet is a weird place. The rumors got so prevalent that I even wrote a whole post explaining why people think Labubu is demonic (and why they're wrong).
The difference is stark. In our collector groups, a post might be a detailed photo shoot of the new Naruto crossover figure. On TikTok, a viral video might be someone unboxing a Macaron with a caption like, "Just got my lobotomy doll lol." Same toy, two completely different universes.
Real Talk: My Unfiltered Opinion on the Slang
Okay, so here's my honest take as a seller and a collector.
Is the slang annoying? A little bit. It feels like it dismisses the artistry and the years of world-building Kasing Lung has put into his creation. It reduces a beloved character to a one-note, slightly morbid joke. When I see someone call it a "lobotomy doll," a small part of my collector soul cringes.
But.
I'm also a business owner. And I cannot deny the sheer power of this viral moment. The Macarons series didn't just sell well; it became a cultural event. I've been selling designer toys for years, and I have never seen a single series move like that. We're talking about figures that retailed for about $15-$17 selling for $80, $100, even $150 on secondary markets within days of release. The demand was, and still is, astronomical.
Did the weird slang contribute to that? I think it's impossible to say it didn't. The meme, as strange as it is, gave Labubu a "story" for the mainstream. It made it edgy and shareable. It gave people a reason to talk about it beyond "oh, that's a cute toy." It created a massive, if bizarre, entry point for a whole new audience.
So, while the collector in me sighs, the seller in me has to acknowledge the reality: the meme put Labubu on the map in a way nothing else has. It's a double-edged sword. The hype is great for business, but it also attracts a lot of people who are just chasing a trend and might not stick around. It also, unfortunately, attracts a ton of scammers trying to cash in on the craze. The number of fakes has exploded, which is why knowing how to spot a fake Labubu is more important now than ever.
The Market Impact: A Seller's Field Report
Let's talk numbers and observations, because this is where things get really interesting.
Before the Macaron craze of 2024, Labubu was a popular but relatively stable line within the Pop Mart ecosystem. A new series would drop, sell steadily, and you could generally find them for a few weeks or months.
Then the Macarons hit TikTok.
I watched in real-time as my store's inventory, which I thought was well-stocked, evaporated in hours. My waitlist for the next shipment grew to hundreds of names. On platforms like StockX and eBay, the price for the "chase" figure, Soymilk, was hitting absurd levels, I saw listings for over $250 for a single, 3-inch vinyl figure. Even common figures like Lychee Berry or Sea Salt Coconut were being flipped for 5-10x their retail price.
This wasn't normal collector market behavior. This was sneaker-drop, Supreme-level hype. And it was all being fueled by mainstream social media.
One thing I've noticed is the difference in the customer. The long-time collectors know what they're looking for. They might ask about a specific artist or series. The new wave of buyers often just ask for "the viral TikTok Labubu." They don't always know the series name, just the color they saw in a video.
This has also changed how we manage stock. We used to be able to order a predictable amount. Now, we have to anticipate which series might randomly catch the algorithm's attention. It's a whole new game. The hype also means you have to be more careful where you buy. If you see a deal that looks too good to be true, it probably is. Stick to reputable sellers or official channels if you can. If you're looking for a safe place to start, you can always browse our LABUBU collection at PopNya, where we guarantee authenticity.
So, Should You "Get a Labubu"?
Let's reframe the question. Forget the labubu slang. The real question is, should you start collecting Labubu?
My answer is a wholehearted yes, but for the right reasons.
Don't buy one because of a fleeting internet joke. Buy one if you look at that little monster and feel a spark of joy. Buy one if you appreciate the artistry, the colors, and the sheer creativity of Kasing Lung's world. Buy one if you want to be part of a community of people who genuinely love these characters.
Start with a single blind box from a series that catches your eye. Maybe it's the whimsical "Let's Christmas" series or the adventurous "Monsters Camping" line. Feel the weight of the box. Enjoy the surprise of the reveal. Look at the little details on the figure, the texture of its tiny backpack, the gloss on its eyes.
That's the real meaning of getting a Labubu. It's about the thrill of the hunt, the appreciation of art you can hold in your hand, and the fun of building a collection that makes you smile. It has nothing to do with lobotomies and everything to do with finding a little bit of magic in a small vinyl creature.
The slang will fade. The TikTok trend will move on to the next shiny object. But the art and the community will still be here. And honestly, that's the part that's actually worth collecting.com/collections/labubu) we have in the shop. You might just find your new favorite monster.
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