Blind Boxes and Billion-Dollar Dreams: Labubu Fever in the Lion City
Words Eric Jurado
January 14, 2025
Labubu
Within the glowing confines of the Verandah Club, a pinnacle of luxury perched high above the skyline of Singapore. The room buzzes with the elegant, intentional chaos of expatriate revelry. A mix of financiers, tech disruptors, and artists-in-the-making sip cocktails amidst a haze of jazz and cigar smoke. The subject of the evening? A curious little toy with serrated teeth and an even sharper grasp on modern consumerism.
Margaret Penrose, an American banker in a dress that could only be described as preposterously expensive, clinks her gin and tonic. “I swear,” she drawls, “this city could make you fall in love with the oddest things. Has anyone heard of... Labubu?”
Nearby, Charles Beaumont, a Briton with an uncanny knack for acquiring both art and scandal, raises a languid eyebrow. “Labubu? Sounds like something out of an overpriced sushi menu.”
“Not quite,” Margaret replies with a knowing smile. “They’re toys. Figurines, really. Adult collectibles by a company called Pop Mart. Imagine a rabbit with sharp teeth and a Nordic fairy tale gone slightly wrong.”
“I’ve seen them,” interjects Priya Banerjee, an Indian entrepreneur known for her boutique line of eco-luxury furniture. “My niece has a collection. Or rather, her mother does. Grown women and men queuing up for these things like it’s the second coming of Hermès, dressing them up in Chanel.”
From the corner, Henri, a French venture capitalist, saunters in. “Ah, Pop Mart! Their stock has been quite the talk. Up 230% over the past year, if I recall. Exceptional growth, but a PE ratio of 60. Risky territory, no?”
“It’s not just about the numbers, Henri,” Margaret says. “Labubu taps into something visceral. Nostalgia, exclusivity, a sense of belonging. Even here, adults are buying blind boxes, for God’s sake.”
“Blind boxes?” Charles chortles, swirling his scotch. “What is that? A Kinder Surprise for people with trust funds?”
Priya leans in conspiratorially. “It’s deeper than that. The creator, Kasing Lung, envisioned this whole world inspired by Nordic myths. Labubu isn’t just a toy; it’s a story. Mischievous but kind-hearted, always trying to help yet hilariously inept.”
Henri nods. “A narrative sells. And so does scarcity. Didn’t Lisa from Blackpink post about Labubu? Pop Mart knows its audience well. Millennials and Gen Z treat these toys as art. A piece of whimsy amidst their perfectly curated Instagram feeds.”
Margaret turns to Henri. “But surely, the growth is unsustainable? The valuation suggests a bubble. Who’s holding the shares?”
“Mostly insiders and institutional investors,” Henri replies. “42% held by the CEO, Ning Wang. 1.5% by BlackRock. No debt, stellar revenue and earnings growth. But insiders have been selling — troubling, to say the least, or maybe they’re just cashing in.”
“Ah,” Priya says, sipping her lychee martini. “Labubu might be whimsical, but the market is anything but. A debt-free company with overvalued stock and eager speculators? It’s like one of Kasing Lung’s fairy tales. Magical but fraught with danger.”
Across the room, a quieter conversation unfolds. Emily Tan, a Singaporean psychologist, chats with Rajesh, a tech consultant. “It’s fascinating,” Emily muses. “Labubu comforts people. Corporate workers. Kidults. It’s like wrapping your inner child in a blanket during a storm.”
Rajesh chuckles. “Or it’s just retail therapy at its finest. Blind boxes, exclusivity — it’s like Tinder for your dopamine receptors.”
Emily smiles knowingly. “Maybe. But that joy? That excitement of not knowing what you’re getting? It’s a little rebellion against the predictability of adulthood.”
As the evening wanes, Margaret lifts her glass one final time. “Here’s to Labubu — proof that in a world of rising costs and falling sanity, we’ll pay for anything that makes us feel something. Nostalgia, joy, even a bit of FOMO.”
“And to Pop Mart,” adds Henri, “the empire of misplaced childhoods, exceptional growth, and impeccable balance sheets.”
The group erupts into laughter, a mirthful symphony that echoes across the city, their glasses glinting like the skyline beyond — a constellation of ambition, nostalgia, and perhaps, a little madness.
