Labubus are dumb, but so am I
On scarcity marketing, parenting, and momentary joy.
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I am doing that thing I do. That thing where I start convincing myself I want something just because it’s hard to get. Except this time, it’s worse, because it isn’t even for me. Though if I am being honest, I would purchase one for me and one for our daughter. Maybe our younger daughter, too.
Yes, I am writing about Labubu dolls. If you don’t have a tween daughter or an iPhone infused to your hand that feeds the latest internet trends straight into your veins, allow me to introduce you to the Beanie Babies of 2025. Labubus are collectible plush toy monsters that look kind of like sinister Furbies. They come in many forms and sizes, including the key ring version that the fashion girlies attach to their designer handbags. Though they start around $27.99 for a coveted Labubu “blind box” (the surprise is half the fun!), some rare Labubus are valued in the hundreds. According to NPR, a life-size Labubu recently sold for more than $170,000 at the first Labubu art auction China. And you might not believe this, but there’s even third-party retailers who design custom outfits for your Labubus, because having today’s “it-thing” isn’t enough on its own.
Finding real Labubus isn’t easy. Pop Mart, the official retailer, only has twenty-something locations and another fifty-something vending machines around the country. This means that unless you’re buying secondhand (probably at a steeper price), you’ll need intel and alerts to get the timing right for merch drops. Only then, in your time-sensitive euphoria, will you have the chance to decide how much money you’re willing to waste on something that will be irrelevant soon.
I’ve explored my own susceptibility to scarcity marketing in the past. When you can’t get something, you tend to want it more. Beyond that, our experience tracks something called the “snob effect,” which The Journal of Retailing explains as a post-saturation decline in our desire to have something once everyone has it. In other words, we want to be unique. We want to be special. Once a hard-to-find product no longer makes you feel unique and special, having it isn’t quite as mission critical as it once seemed. I know that at times, I am putty in the hands of these marketing tactics. My personality and only-child-ness lends itself to seeking uniqueness, but even more than that, I genuinely enjoy the hunt for something special.
Here is the issue I face right now, which is as much a parenting conundrum as a money one: my daughter is beginning to want things like Labubus.
Do I give into my natural instinct to bring her along for these treasure hunts, or do I downplay the hype she experiences in her social circles until the latest trend cycles through? Then again, what’s the fun in that?
There are two sides to this. One is the side where I hear the voice of Mel Robbins on my shoulder whispering, “Let her!” Kids have always loved to collect things: baseball cards, Pokémon cards, Beanie Babies, Pogs. It’s a tale as old as time. I remember my mom calling the local toy stores to check when their next shipment of BBs would arrive in hopes of finding the rare varietals, such as the Princess Diana and Jerry Garcia bears (we ultimately found them). Both of us were in the zone. I wouldn’t quite call it a cornerstone of our mother-daughter bonding, but we both took enough interest that it’s something I remember as an adult. I got to do the thing that the other kids were doing. After spending the past two years interviewing people about their childhood money memories, I deeply understand the privilege of being able to say that.
But right now is not back then. Time moves faster for our kids than it did for us. Brands gain their attention faster. Trends spread faster—they call it viral for reason. Water bottles, sweatshirts, it happens with a ton of items beyond just toys. My daughter begged for a White Fox sweatshirt after sleepaway camp last summer, but by the time I placed a Black Friday order and the sweatshirt took its fateful four-week journey from Australia to New Jersey (true story), I already knew that the Older Cool Girls(TM) had moved onto Pink Palm Puff, a different brand. Now, I’m sure those girls are onto something else. Hazel has such limited access to social media that she tends to be months behind these things, and I still don’t know whether I’m proud of that or feel bad about it.
When we (the millennials) coveted a new hot thing, it felt like a race to secure it, but it wasn’t an international supersonic gulag of whose thumbs moved the fastest. You’d check the stores nearby. If they didn’t have it, you’d wait.
Kids don’t know what it means to wait, at least not as their default setting. Their default setting is now. And I don’t just mean for gifts but also in terms of how they observe our family’s needs being met. New socks arrive in an Amazon envelope hours after ordering them. Groceries wait at the back door after a long weekend away. They don’t see the efforts that technology have turned invisible: the workers filling orders; the mothers remembering to order; the family earners whose money lives inside the button on the side of their phones. This isn’t something to blame on parents but rather the speed at which our capitalistic society has raced to optimize these lessons away from all of us. Why wait, when you can have it now? And if you can’t find it now…then you better buy them (lots of them) when you do.
I can hold this to be true. I can teach the right lessons. I know how to say no—to myself and to them. But honestly, there are times I just don’t want to. With so much wrong in the world right now, I just want to stare at a Labubu’s stupid furry face. I want to come through with that thing, whatever it is, for no other reason than it will make them happy, even though it’ll be replaced with something else in a few months.
I know, it’s dumb. But there are moments when some dumb joy matters, and I’m not willing to stop chasing that.
Do you want to send the Boneparths a Labubu? I kid. We’d love to hear about the last sucker purchase you made for your kids (or yourself). Let us know.
Look at this stud, rolling into Father’s Day Weekend in full dad mode. I’ve been asking awesome fathers like Douglas to show their work, so I thought I’d showcase more of his. Douglas drove carpool to a birthday party at some sports facility 20 minutes from home last weekend. (No, this isn’t the vehicle he took.)
TJA update
Douglas and I are thrilled to now be on the Modern Husbands advisory board! Our missions are oh-so aligned, and we are so pleased to be involved. You can subscribe to the Modern Husbands Newsletter if you're looking for tips to manage money and the home as a team. Brian Page, M.Ed., AFC®, Fair Play® domestic labor specialist, CPFFE® is the founder of Modern Husbands, and he shares his newsletter every couple of weeks.
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