Two young women squat by a low wooden display bristling with Labubus. They ask each other the same question that’s on my mind: Which of these plushie collectibles will the Pop Mart toy company allow me the privilege of taking home today? Will I get the 16-inch-tall Labubu with denim overalls and a fisherman’s hat or the keychain Labubu with bright fur and possessed eyes? Can I get both?
The clerk at this Beijing store—Pop Mart’s first location—gives us a reality check. “None of these is in stock,” she says curtly. “You can join our fan group chat and wait for the restocking alert.”
Of course. Labubu isn’t just a creepy-cute stuffed rabbit-demon-elf-bear. Labubu sat front row at Milan Fashion Week. Tourists lined up at the Louvre to buy a Labubu from the pop-up store. Lady Gaga dressed as Labubu in concert. Madonna served Labubu cake at her birthday. When Labubu sold out in London once, customers started a brawl. In Thailand, where Labubu is the government’s official tourism ambassador, trendy partygoers buy Labubu-shaped ecstasy pills. Even knockoff Labubus, called Lafufus, have their own devoted fans. You can’t expect to just leave the store with social currency. You’ve got to earn it.
Around the world, Pop Mart employees will tell you to start by monitoring the company’s social feeds for news and alerts. Here in China, I’ve got an additional option: I can scan a QR code and join a dedicated WeChat group. Mine is called “Pop Mart Beijing First Store Group No. 35.”
I do some quick, dispiriting math. My group is capped at 200 members. Assuming 34 other groups filled up first, at least 7,000 eager fans are looking to buy a Labubu. And that’s just at this store, which is one of more than 400 that Pop Mart operates in China. When the restock alert arrives, we’ll need to hit the purchase button faster than hummingbirds beat their wings.
At 10:57 am one morning, news hits the chat: A pink plushie keychain priced at 100 RMB (about $14) will be restocked in three minutes. The time comes, and the group erupts with disappointment. Only one person says she got the keychain. Soon, others start asking if she’ll resell it. An auction ensues. “I’m not selling,” the lucky buyer writes, but the bidding goes on anyway. In less than a minute, it reaches 900 RMB ($126). When she doesn’t reply again, the group goes back to venting about how hard it is to buy a Labubu from Pop Mart at the original price.