From Barbie to LABUBU: How a Quirky Chinese Toy Took Over Global Pop Culture

Image source: Getty Images

AsianFin -- In 2025, one question seems to echo across social media and shopping malls alike: Why is it LABUBU? As I paused from the blur of deadlines to reflect, I found myself asking the same thing—why this particular oddball character, and why now?

LABUBU, the mischievous, wide-eyed creature from Chinese toymaker Pop Mart, has become a cultural sensation. Posts flooded platforms like TikTok and Instagram, and the frenzy reached a fever pitch this month when a first-edition LABUBU figure sold at Yongle’s Spring Auction for a jaw-dropping 1.08 million yuan (about $150,000). That price tag turned a vinyl toy into a symbol of pop culture supremacy.

Like the meteoric rise of a breakout celebrity, LABUBU’s ascent feels equal parts strategy and serendipity. Look at the playbook: celebrity endorsements, surgically precise social media campaigns, limited-edition drops, and the psychological thrill of blind boxes and pre-sales. Add to that the white-hot vinyl and plush toy market, and the speculative secondary market where prices whiplash overnight—Pop Mart may downplay it, but the hype is real.

Still, behind the explosive success are signs that the journey hasn’t been entirely smooth.

Earlier this year, Pop Mart was forced to halt LABUBU sales across the UK after a scuffle broke out among collectors at its London store—a rare public brawl in a country known for its civility. This week, the company also suspended offline LABUBU sales in South Korea, a key market for Pop Mart and the home country of its International Business President, Moon De-yi.

Globally, the toy industry is navigating turbulent waters. During the height of the U.S.-China trade tensions this spring, former President Donald Trump remarked flippantly: “Maybe kids will only have two dolls instead of thirty.” The comment landed on front pages, unintentionally turning dolls into political pawns.

And yet, kids—and collectors—aren’t necessarily loyal to legacy brands. Scroll through TikTok or YouTube Shorts and you’ll find young fans flaunting their LABUBU hauls to thousands of likes and reposts. Meanwhile, Barbie—the quintessential American icon born in 1959—is quietly being pushed to the sidelines in boutique toy stores, her pink dreamhouses collecting dust.

It’s a striking image: in 2025, a peculiar Chinese character with spiky ears and a lopsided grin is eclipsing Barbie, the blonde embodiment of the American Dream. LABUBU’s rise isn’t just about vinyl—it’s about a generational shift in taste, identity, and who gets to define cool in a globalized, digital-first world.

Barbie’s Dilemma: The Collapse of a “Perfect Idol”

To this day, for most girls, the most iconic doll—one imbued with the significance of the times and culture—remains Barbie.

Barbie was originally designed by American businesswoman Ruth Handler. Interestingly, just like LABUBU, her inspiration also came from Europe: the prototype was the “Bild Lilli” doll Handler bought in Europe, which was based on a popular character from a German satirical comic strip.

Handler redesigned the Barbie doll and named it after her daughter Barbara’s nickname. On March 9, 1959, American toy giant Mattel debuted its Barbie doll at the American International Toy Fair in New York, with a retail price of $3. (In 2006, a Barbie doll produced in 1965 set a world record when it was auctioned for $17,000.)

The world’s first Barbie doll, released in 1959, was available with either blonde or brunette hair.

Barbie was born in a confident America, where consumerism was on the rise and the Cold War was quietly beginning. The “American Dream” was still a widely held social belief.

In its first year on the market, Barbie’s sales exceeded 350,000 units. This was largely because Barbie broke away from the then-popular “mommy doll” stereotype, instead presenting the image of an independent woman, infused with a strong sense of “American values”: thick blonde hair, a perfectly proportioned figure, a dream career, and the right to spend freely.

The lifestyle envisioned by Barbie’s designers became the ideal model for American women: dazzling mansions, cars, and wardrobes, the companionship of a beloved pet, and, of course, an incredibly handsome boyfriend, Ken… Barbie practically became the gold standard for how America’s middle class aspired to raise their daughters.

As global society and economic structures evolved, Barbie underwent several transformations in the late twentieth century. She shifted from a housewife to an astronaut, from a nurse to a presidential candidate. Each transformation reflected a new definition and understanding of women’s roles in American society, embodying the era’s imagination of what women could become in the future. Back then, girls truly believed that when they grew up, they could become anyone they wanted to be.

“You can be anything” has always been Barbie’s core message. Image source: Mattel official website

However, as we entered a new era, cracks began to appear.

After all, reality reminded everyone that these mass-produced “perfect girls,” with their unrealistic body proportions, continued to fuel body image anxiety among teenagers. Although Mattel later introduced Barbies with a variety of skin tones and body types, this deliberate attempt to cater to global consumers could never quite conceal its “white-centric perspective”—and in fact, drew even more criticism. The narrative of the “perfect idol, a controllable future” became tiresome for countless people.

Barbie became a symbol of the “old world”—outdated and out of touch.

Mattel has been making ongoing efforts to revitalize this flagship IP by speaking the language of younger generations. In 2023, the film Barbie, directed by Greta Gerwig (born in 1983) and produced under Mattel’s IP license, premiered and ultimately grossed $1.44 billion worldwide, becoming the highest-grossing film of the year globally.

Poster for the film "Barbie"

This unexpected box office success led many to believe that the 60-year-old Barbie had not grown old. However, the film "Barbie" is fundamentally a deconstruction, satire, and reflection on Barbie culture, sparking a collective conversation about patriarchy, female awakening, and self-definition.

This undoubtedly exposes an awkward reality: Barbie’s golden age has passed. Today, Barbie serves more as a mirror for American cultural self-examination, rather than as a dominant force in shaping contemporary women’s narratives.

The phenomenal popularity of the film "Barbie" feels like a fleeting flashback to Barbie’s golden era. Yet, the year after the movie’s release, Barbie doll sales plummeted once again.

Barbie is not just a chronicle of the evolution of American female identity. For over 60 years, as a key player in the global fashion doll industry, the evolution of Barbie’s manufacturing chain has also mirrored the broader story of globalized labor division.

Barbie was born in the 1950s, a time when Japan led the world in toy exports. In the 1970s, global toy manufacturing began shifting to Hong Kong.

After China’s reform and opening up, cities like Shenzhen and Dongguan in mainland China took over manufacturing orders from Hong Kong businesses. Countless toy factories sprang up like mushrooms after rain. Thanks to low labor costs and highly skilled craftsmen, the Shenzhen-Dongguan region became the world’s largest toy manufacturing hub.

After the 1980s, riding the wave of globalization, American manufacturing began large-scale outsourcing, and Barbie’s body began its own "global journey."

This is a highly globalized, finely divided industrial network:

1) Barbie dolls are designed at the California headquarters in the US;

2) Core manufacturing materials—such as specialty synthetic fibers (for hair), PVC plastic (for the body), and ABS engineering plastic (for joints)—are sourced from suppliers in China, Japan, and elsewhere;

3) The assembly and manufacturing process is concentrated in China (Dongguan, Guangdong) and Southeast Asia (Indonesia, Malaysia);

4) Finally, Mattel distributes Barbie through global retail channels.

The manufacturing belt in the Pearl River Delta, which was originally built by the world’s top industry giants shifting production here, now supports Barbie’s production. It boasts not only massive machinery for molding doll bodies and mature engineering expertise, but also a large, well-trained workforce. These workers are responsible for dressing each doll, sewing hair, painting faces, and more. Even for the tiniest accessories—like Barbie’s ultra-miniature custom combs—factories capable of fulfilling such specialized orders can be found quickly.

According to shipping data from S&P Global Market Intelligence, about 90% of dolls imported into the United States come from China—a figure that has remained steady over the past decade. A significant portion of Barbie dolls, for example, are manufactured in China.

Anti-Perfectionism’s Rise: LABUBU Resonates with the Times

During the heyday of globalization, Barbie was not just the embodiment of the “white girl” dream in America, but also a symbol for girls around the world aspiring to mainstream values and recognition.

In terms of design language, LABUBU stands in stark contrast to Barbie dolls—with its bared teeth, messy hair, rounded figure, and mischievous gaze.

LABUBU is a Nordic forest elf character created by Hong Kong artist Kasing Lung, who is also a signed artist with Pop Mart. LABUBU is a member of THE MONSTERS, a group of elf characters from Lung’s creations.

Image source: Weibo @龍家昇

Since becoming an independent IP in 2015, LABUBU had already caught the attention of trendsetters even before it went mainstream. This reflects the post-Z generation’s preference for “non-standard beauty” and “rebellious cuteness.” In 2018, LABUBU was introduced to the mass market by Pop Mart, quickly gaining popularity with its ambiguous, “half-smiling, half-blank” expression.

In September 2023, Pop Mart’s POP LAND theme park opened in Beijing’s Chaoyang Park, and LABUBU became one of the park’s top attractions, drawing crowds of fans eager to check in and take photos.

Globally, the tipping point came thanks to celebrity influence on social media.

In April last year, Thai star and BlackPink member Lisa posted a selfie with a LABUBU macaron blind box on Instagram, and was repeatedly seen accessorizing her Hermès bag with it. This instantly ignited a craze for LABUBU in Thailand and across Southeast Asia.

In February this year, global superstar Rihanna was spotted at Los Angeles airport with a LABUBU keychain hanging from her bag, helping LABUBU break through its “Asian” label and become a symbol of street fashion in Europe and the US.

In terms of actual sales, LABUBU has also become one of the best-selling products.

According to TMTPost App’s financial data, in 2024, the THE MONSTERS series—which LABUBU belongs to—generated revenue of 3.04 billion RMB, a year-on-year increase of 726.6%. It has become TMTPost’s fastest-growing IP, topping TMTPost’s four major IPs (THE MONSTERS, MOLLY, SKULLPANDA, and CRYBABY).

In the plush toy category, the LABUBU soft vinyl plush series became the year’s breakout hit (currently, it’s so popular that it’s sold out everywhere in China and is nearly impossible to find). Plush toys have become TMTPost’s annual blockbuster category, generating 2.83 billion RMB in revenue, up 1,289% year-on-year, accounting for 21.7% of total revenue, making it TMTPost’s second-largest category.

LABUBU Generation 3

To many, its appeal feels deeply intuitive. LABUBU seems to channel the unspoken emotional undercurrents of today’s youth, projecting their inner world onto a tangible, collectible figure.

In a market long dominated by mass-produced ideals of beauty and perfection, aesthetic fatigue has set in. Just as students once chased ever-higher test scores and workers now face unreachable KPIs, society’s relentless pursuit of “perfection” has become alienating. The flawless, blonde Barbie no longer resonates with a generation weary of constant comparison and pressure.

Instead, they’re gravitating toward LABUBU—a character that’s messy, weird, expressive, and deeply human. Choosing LABUBU is not just about taste—it’s a quiet rebellion against homogenized ideals and a celebration of individuality and emotional authenticity.

The global craze for sofubi-style plush toys, known for their soft textures and comforting presence, is part of this emotional shift. These toys represent more than nostalgia or trendiness—they’re a collective embrace of comfort, healing, and self-acceptance in a post-trauma era. LABUBU, with all its odd charm, isn’t just “ugly-cute”—it’s a symbol of emotional survival. A quirky companion in uncertain times.

Is this a case of global supply chain “out of control”?

From the perspective of cultural product manufacturers, POP MART has already broken through the traditional framework of toy companies and has developed a complete closed loop for cultural products.

POP MART is deeply tied to artists, holds the core IP design, controls flexible manufacturing, operates automated factories in Dongguan, and leads its distribution network (global self-operated stores + blind box vending machines + global e-commerce channels). It even participates in community marketing.

POP MART’s founder, chairman, and CEO, Wang Ning, also does not fit the typical image of a perfect entrepreneur.

A widely circulated anecdote (though perhaps overused, it’s still worth mentioning here) is that investors used to describe Wang as having an average educational background, never having held a “proper” job, speaking calmly and without charisma, and lacking elites in his team. After the company went public, those same investors said Wang was steady, spoke little, showed no emotion, and possessed the excellent qualities of a consumer industry entrepreneur.

In October last year, POP MART officially published a book titled Because of Uniqueness. The book, compiled by business journalist Li Xiang, is based on four interviews with POP MART founder Wang Ning from August 2023 onward. It tells the story of POP MART’s journey from a small variety shop to an IP powerhouse, as well as Wang’s insights on designer toys, entertainment, and business.

In short, as Wang himself described, the root of POP MART’s success lies in two key weapons: the Chinese market and Chinese manufacturing.

In fact, Wang is not someone obsessed with designer toys or trendy art. Even the name POP MART, if translated literally, is quite plain—“Trendy Supermarket”—which says a lot.

In its early days, POP MART was born out of a “grid shop” near schools, so Wang Ning simply sold whatever trendy little items attracted young people: keychains, figurines, hats, scarves, jewelry, phone cases, charging cables, and so on. When Wang Ning graduated and tried to replicate this model in Beijing, his approach remained the same.

POP MART’s decision to incubate its own IP was actually a matter of necessity. In its early years, POP MART was the agent for the hugely popular Japanese doll Sonny Angel, which accounted for 30% of its sales and was the core pillar of its stores at the time.

When Wang Ning attempted to expand his stores and open new locations in Shanghai, the early licensing model became a constraint. To protect regional players, brand owners did not allow cross-regional sales. During a social media poll asking fans about their preferences in designer toys, Molly received a high number of votes. Wang Ning then traveled to Hong Kong to sign a contract with Molly's designer, Kenny Wong (Wang Xinming). Kenny Wong is highly influential in Hong Kong’s designer art scene, and Wang Ning used him as a central figure to expand his network, which eventually led to the story of LABUBU.

In the early days, introducing Japanese IPs as an agent allowed Wang Ning to taste the commercial potential of designer toys—this was just one facet of the globalization of cultural products. It was only after signing and producing Molly that POP MART (now TMTPost) was able to form a closed loop in its own industrial chain.

Molly, another core IP of POP MART. Image source: Xiaohongshu @POP MART

Niche art and mass-market business have always struggled to find a balance. Exceptionally talented and individualistic artists are often labeled as “struggling” by default. However, artists who grew up in Hong Kong—a crossroads of Eastern and Western cultures and a region with a relatively advanced commercial environment—seem to possess an innate business acumen and were willing to embrace Wang Ning’s plans and vision.

More importantly, places like Dongguan and Shenzhen had already become the world’s largest toy manufacturing bases. While Hong Kong had a vibrant designer art scene and a certain consumer market, toy mold-making itself is a high-cost, high-risk endeavor, so a sufficiently large industrial chain had not formed locally.

After signing Hong Kong artists, Wang Ning leveraged the advantages of the local, complete industrial chain. At first, he opted for copper molds costing around 10,000 yuan, instead of the steel molds used by large companies that start at one or two million yuan. He immediately tested the waters in the much larger mainland Chinese market, working closely with factories for quick turnaround. As a result, the nationwide blind box craze for designer toys was instantly ignited.

In fact, many were surprised this year when LABUBU helped POP MART break out in overseas markets. However, if you count from the time when Wen Deyi joined the company (August 2018), POP MART’s globalization journey has already spanned nearly seven years—almost half the company’s history since its founding in 2010.

Ever since POP MART withdrew from the New Third Board and went public on the Hong Kong Stock Exchange in 2020, globalization has been a must-answer question for Wang Ning.

This move not only helps shape POP MART into an “international brand” and unlocks more global licensing opportunities (the company has already entered into short-term licensing collaborations with internationally renowned IPs such as Harry Potter and One Piece), but Wang Ning also believes that leveraging the Hong Kong capital market can better facilitate signing and incentivizing top international artists.

But unlike the previous generation of global toy giants, POP MART doesn’t just focus on supply chains and sales channels—it has also seized the advantages of internet community platforms, especially the early dividends from Chinese internet companies expanding overseas.

On platforms like Xiaohongshu and TikTok, LABUBU’s doll customization tutorials and “secondary creation” content have gone viral within niche communities. Since the beginning of this year, the #LabubuHaul (LABUBU unboxing) topic on TikTok has garnered over one billion views, single-handedly driving sales for POP MART’s online stores.

POP MART has also “replicated” the popular domestic strategy of operating private traffic pools in overseas markets. In regions such as Southeast Asia, POP MART has guided fans to establish Facebook fan groups, creating online social communities based on shared interests.

These down-to-earth promotional tactics are things that the “high and mighty” American-style multinational corporations neither understand nor value, and they are unable to execute them personally. The “secondary creation” phenomenon, in particular, would make these companies—which are highly protective of intellectual property and quick to resort to legal action—feel quite awkward.

Yet it is precisely these “building strongholds” and “fighting tough battles” approaches that have fostered a close emotional bond among LABUBU fans. This “UGC revolution”—with ongoing interaction and co-creation between the brand and its fans—has formed a cross-regional emotional community, exponentially amplifying the value of the IP.

Whoever Defines Dolls, Defines the Future World

While Barbie dolls, which have accompanied generations as they grew up, continue to lose market share, LABUBU—a designer toy from China—has quickly risen to fame with its unique, quirky aesthetic.

When these two symbols of cultural consumption converge on the same generation in 2025, and as this generation gradually becomes the backbone of society, voting with their wallets, it may be a reminder: the direction of the zeitgeist is no longer defined or controlled by any single party. Instead, it is being reshaped by young people around the world, who, through the internet, transcend geographical boundaries and express themselves through collaborative, social creation.

In a sense, this shift represents a global reevaluation of traditional Western discourse by the younger generation.

LABUBU is postmodern, emotional, diverse, and absurd—a complex aesthetic that is both good and mischievous. LABUBU’s sharp teeth and crooked smile are a perfect reflection of contemporary youth: rebellious on the outside, soft on the inside; imperfect, yet genuinely lovable. LABUBU not only interacts with every visitor in Chaoyang Park, but also embraces platforms like Douyin and Xiaohongshu, TikTok and Instagram, engaging with fans and encouraging “secondary creation.”

Barbie, on the other hand, represents the classic framework of strong American cultural export, with every product conveying signals of modernity, rationality, order, and standardization. Barbie always seems eager to keep up with youth trends, launching various “politically correct” product lines. However, its parent company, Mattel, appears indifferent to the changing consumption patterns of today’s younger generation.

Behind all this lies a fundamental restructuring of global toy brands.

Mattel, Barbie’s parent company, has made frequent headlines in recent years for layoffs and business cutbacks, and its flagship Barbie doll has hit a sales plateau. In April this year, Mattel announced price increases for some toys in the U.S. market to offset rising costs caused by tariffs. In addition, due to changes in the trade environment, the company has also postponed releasing its 2025 financial guidance to cope with current business uncertainties.

Meanwhile, POP MART’s ambition for global expansion is already clear. Also in April this year, POP MART launched its largest organizational restructuring in five years, establishing regional headquarters in Greater China, the Americas, Asia-Pacific, and Europe, granting these headquarters greater decision-making and resource allocation powers to enable the company to respond more flexibly to the diverse challenges of the global market.

To serve overseas markets, optimize global tariff costs, and support worldwide sales, POP MART’s Vietnam factory began production in January 2024, and now accounts for about 10% of the company’s total capacity. In 2024, POP MART’s overseas and Hong Kong, Macao, and Taiwan business revenue reached 5.07 billion yuan, a year-on-year increase of 375.2%, accounting for nearly 40% of total revenue.

Despite LABUBU’s outstanding sales performance and the capital market’s fervent support for POP MART (with its stock price having surged by over 205% since 2025), it’s important to recognize that the company is still only 15 years old. In terms of overall strength, it remains difficult for POP MART to compete head-to-head with global toy giants such as Disney (founded in 1923), LEGO (1932), and Bandai (1961).

However, this does not prevent us from turning our attention to this company. Its prowess in emotional marketing and its soft cultural influence are becoming powerful new competitive advantages for Chinese enterprises, making POP MART especially representative at this pivotal moment.

Behind this lies a structural trend: China can no longer be defined by the outdated stereotypes of “the world’s factory.” With its comprehensive industrial clusters and status as the world’s second-largest single consumer market, China is now an indispensable force in the global wave of cultural creation and consumerism.

As globalization faces certain headwinds and the global manufacturing supply chain is being reshaped, the ability to define the aesthetics and imagination of the next generation grants access to the future cultural landscape. The future of cultural consumption will no longer depend solely on national strength, but will require brands to be closely attuned to the subtle shifts in social sentiment.

As Barbie retreats from her golden era, LABUBU emerges with its quirky, rebellious, and imperfect charm, embodying a sense of self-deconstruction. When people see that frowning, toothy, wide-eyed, yet smiling face, it feels like a bittersweet collective farewell to the perfect childhood image—signaling that the door to an era defined by those old characteristics is slowly closing.