Labubu and the Lifecycle of Hype: What Happens When Niche Becomes Noise?
Once a forest sprite for vinyl-collecting art toy nerds, Labubu has now infiltrated duty-free perfume shelves, AI-generated nail art, and TikTok thirst traps. Not bad for a character with a face only a hypebeast could love.
It’s easy to laugh. But also—what a case study.
In under a year, a niche collectible jumped from cultish counterculture to airport commercialism, shedding its origin story along the way. Labubu is just the latest avatar of the phenomenon we’ve seen time and again: how cultural specificity gets rinsed through the mainstream machine and re-emerges as aesthetic wallpaper.
We’ve seen it before with:
Sanrio’s Kuromi → once a punky Hello Kitty foil, now a mall goth mascot
Stanley cups → wilderness hydration, now suburban status symbol
Cottagecore → Tumblr escapism turned Target home aisle
Clean girl beauty → no longer a TikTok rebellion, just a Sephora SKU
And long before TikTok was driving trends, the hype machine was alive and well. Remember the scenes in toy stores when Cabbage Patch Kids first came out? Grown adults elbowing each other for dolls in bonnets. Beanie Babies trading like currency. Tickle Me Elmo selling out nationwide. These weren't just fads—they were frenzies. Proof that trend obsession isn’t generational or digital. It's human. It's social. And it’s always been there—only now it moves faster, flattens deeper, and feeds on visibility.
Why does this happen?
Because people don’t just want to express themselves. They want to belong.
And the internet turned aesthetic alignment into a shortcut for social fluency. No time to research the origins of Labubu’s creator, Kasing Lung—just get the plushie and post.
Trends aren’t evil. But they are ecosystems. And most brands only ever engage them at the peak—when the wave’s already breaking and it’s too late to surf it with any integrity.
So how do you spot what’s real?
You look upstream:
Who's talking about it before the packaging gets glossy?
Is it born from identity, irony, or just algorithm?
Does it actually mean something to the people using it—or is it just shorthand?
Labubu will fade. The next version will arrive just as fast.
So what’s next?
Our bet: hyperlocal becomes hypervisible.
We’re not talking about new behaviors—but old instincts resurfacing in smarter, stranger, more specific ways. Relevance is no longer about being broadly popular—it’s about being personally resonant.
Here’s what we’re watching:
1. Ultra-specific self-expression
We’ve seen this before—Tom Daley knitting, dancers who cook, teens crafting mythology-inspired slime. What’s new is how fast these mashups find their people, their formats, their moment. From embroidery kits to niche subreddits to hyper-nuanced “core” trends, identity is being layered, not labeled. The self is a moodboard—and a medium.
2. Old-school formats, new-school reach
Zines, mixtapes, pixel art, film photography—they’ve all been here before. But now they’re part of something bigger: a quiet revolt against algorithmic sameness. Shows like The Piano prove analog can still break through. Not because it’s retro. Because it’s real.
3. The sincerity era (again)
Yes, we’ve cycled through sincerity before. But this time, it’s not just earnest—it’s intentional. People are curating their joy, their hobbies, their friendships with full awareness. Less “just vibing.” More “this matters.” The aesthetic? Care.
At Wink, we think trends are fun—but meaning is magnetic.
While the internet chases the next big thing, we’ll be paying attention to what sticks, what spreads, and what actuallymatters.
Because relevance is a moving target—but resonance lasts longer than a scroll.
