I Don’t Think Labubu Is Cute. There, I Said It.

Cute? That thing looks like it moves when nobody is watching.

Everybody keeps saying Labubu is cute.

I have looked at it from different angles.

I have examined the pointy ears.

I have studied the enormous eyes.

I have considered the tiny body and the wide smile filled with suspicious little teeth.

My conclusion remains the same:

That thing is creepy.

I’m sorry.

Actually, no. I’m not.

A Little Girl Agreed With Me

When I was in Hong Kong, I met a little girl who also thought the doll looked creepy.

A child said it.

Children are supposed to be the target audience for cute toys. If a little girl looks at your doll and thinks it may crawl across her bedroom at night, perhaps we need to reconsider the word adorable.

When I look at Labubu, I don’t see a sweet little creature begging for a hug.

I see something that knows where I hid the body.

It looks like it would sit quietly on the shelf all day and then move three inches closer to the bed while I’m sleeping.

Cute?

That thing has information.

Yes, I Know It’s Supposed to Be a Monster

Labubu was created by artist Kasing Lung and belongs to a fantasy world called The Monsters.

So yes, I understand that it isn’t supposed to look like a normal teddy bear.

It is a mischievous little elf-like creature with pointy ears and a toothy grin.

Fine.

The artist succeeded.

It looks like a monster.

What confuses me is how everybody arrived at the word “cute.”

People call it ugly-cute, which feels like a very diplomatic way of saying:

“We know it looks strange, but we already spent money on it.”

Maybe that is the appeal. It isn’t traditionally pretty. It has personality. It looks mischievous, weird, and different from the usual round-faced toys smiling innocently from store shelves.

I understand the concept.

I still don’t want it staring at me in the dark.

Then the Celebrities Arrived

Rich and famous celebrities started carrying Labubu dolls, displaying collections, and attaching them to expensive bags.

Once celebrities like something, the rest of the world suddenly begins conducting important cultural research.

What is that?

Where can I buy it?

Which version is rare?

Will owning one make me look interesting?

Apparently, hanging a tiny grinning monster from a luxury handbag creates balance in the universe.

One item says:

“I have money.”

The other says:

“And I may have made a strange decision with it.”

Celebrity attention helped push Labubu into a global craze. People saw famous women carrying them, collectors showed theirs online, and suddenly the little creature was everywhere.

But celebrity ownership does not automatically transform something into cute.

Famous people also wear outfits that would make the rest of us look like we escaped from a damaged lampshade.

They can get away with things.

The Blind Box Has Entered the Chat

Part of the excitement comes from how many Labubu figures are sold in blind boxes.

You purchase the box without knowing exactly which version is inside.

That adds suspense.

Maybe you’ll get the one you want.

Maybe you’ll get a rare version.

Maybe you’ll open it and discover you have purchased your fifth tiny demon wearing a different hat.

The surprise makes people want to try again. The collecting makes them want to complete a set. The rare versions give everyone something to chase.

I understand why that can become addictive.

It’s the same reason people keep opening mystery packages in games. You aren’t only buying the object—you’re buying the moment of discovery.

Unfortunately, the discovery may be:

“Excellent. Another creature I don’t like.”

Maybe I’m Missing Something

I’m willing to admit that cuteness is subjective.

Some people genuinely love Labubu’s strange face. They find the teeth charming, the expression playful, and the monster design more interesting than an ordinary doll.

Good for them.

Life is difficult. If a pointy-eared creature brings somebody happiness, they should enjoy it.

I’m not demanding that all Labubus be collected and launched into space.

I simply don’t understand the obsession.

I have stared at pictures, watched people show their collections, and tried to locate the cuteness everyone keeps discussing.

It remains missing.

Perhaps it is sold separately.

Would I Buy One?

No.

Maybe if I found a tiny one for two dollars, I would consider buying it as a joke.

Then I would remember what happened with my Temu cart and quietly walk away.

Because that is how these things begin.

You buy one ironically.

Then you need another version.

Then you want the special edition.

Then one day you’re explaining to your family why an entire shelf is occupied by fifty expensive monsters while insisting that it is an investment.

No, thank you.

My house already contains enough questionable purchases.

I don’t need one with teeth.

Popular Does Not Mean You Need It

The pressure around viral products is strange.

You see the same item repeatedly online, and eventually you start wondering whether you should want it too.

Everybody has one.

Celebrities collect them.

The rare editions sell for ridiculous prices.

Maybe you’re missing out.

But sometimes you are not missing out.

Sometimes you are simply successfully avoiding buying something you don’t actually like.

That is called financial maturity.

Or being a hater.

Either description works for me.

My Wallet Has Boundaries Too

In my previous post, I wrote about how being grateful to someone does not mean becoming their lifetime ATM.

You can read it here:

You Helped Me Before. That Doesn’t Make Me Your Lifetime ATM.

The same wallet that needs protection from repeated loan requests also needs protection from viral nonsense.

No, I cannot lend everybody money.

No, I do not need every trending product.

And no, celebrities carrying a doll does not create a financial responsibility for me to buy one.

My money has suffered enough.

The B.S. Truth

I don’t think Labubu is cute.

I think it looks like a little monster that sneaks into your room, steals one sock, and watches you blame the dryer.

That doesn’t mean the people who collect it are stupid.

Collectors enjoy the artwork, the surprise, the rarity, the community, or simply the joy of owning something weird.

I understand all of that.

But understanding why something is popular doesn’t require me to pretend I find it adorable.

You can keep your Labubu.

Display it proudly.

Attach it to your expensive bag.

Dress it in tiny clothes.

Just don’t leave me alone with it after midnight.

B.S. or Truth?

Do you genuinely think Labubu is cute—or did the internet slowly convince you?

What popular collectible do you completely refuse to understand?

Tell me in the comments.

The Labubu may also comment, but I’m deleting it.