Labubus experience higher rates of homelessness compared to their cuter counterparts

Who knew the prerequisite to being a trend was not being ugly

It’s a fact of life that trends come and go. Things that were once seen as hip, or the newest revolution in fashion or style, begin to slip into obscurity, with each trend quickly replacing the last. With this, however, has come the most unfortunate of unforeseen circumstances: alarmingly increasing rates of homelessness among Labubus.

In the past, unwanted toys that were no longer the pinnacle of popular culture were handed down to little cousins or younger siblings. Barbies from the 1990s are said to still be circulating through families, and Cabbage Patch dolls are just now finally retiring. But as trends become quicker to come and go — and are significantly uglier (sorry Labubus) — children have begun rejecting the hand-me-downs.

“Why would I even want that ugly thing,” Lulu Ball, a second-year design major who has two older sisters that are always the first to jump on a new trend, said. “It’s not popular anymore, I can barely play with it and it's not even that cute.”

The speed at which the Labubu trend infiltrated every Urban Outfitters across the country and just as swiftly left was rapid and unprecedented. Within months, Labubus filled the landfills, no longer hanging menacingly on the purses and backpacks of consumers. Researchers blame the sheer speed of the trend for the rates of homelessness that Labubus have experienced, especially compared to their cuter counterparts: Sonny Angels.

To really understand the uniqueness of the problem, though, we have to acknowledge that Sonny Angels had a few things going for them that the Labubus simply didn't. They’re cute, they have big brown eyes and they have a perfect, demure pink smile — they even have cute little hats. Everything about them draws you in. The Labubu, on the other hand, is quite literally meant to resemble a monster. I can’t ultimately say that the Labubu’s caused their own homelessness, but I won’t say they didn’t, either.

Fine, I won’t place the full weight of the issue on the Labubus themselves. The entire situation begs the question of human morality when it comes to the homelessness of poor, unfortunate toys. How did we as a species transition from feeling bad when we couldn’t hug all of our stuffed animals at once, to drop-kicking them as soon as they became culturally irrelevant?

Then again, though, our childhood stuffed animals were far cuter — but that’s beside the point. How can we care so little about the well-being of Labubus? When is it time to stop mindlessly consuming and throwing away perfectly well-meaning, evil monster toys?

Can one say that Labubu homelessness is a greater allegory for American consumerism and our inability to grasp the truest consequences of our actions? Or is it really just a case of their complete lack of aesthetic appeal? I would say that it’s the latter.

Frankly, they’re displeasing to the eye, and somehow possess an evil aura despite being an inanimate object. Their theme song is distressing, to say the least, and yet I can’t stop imitating it as the tune runs circles in my mind — torturing me just as their soulless eyes do.

We’ve experienced many a fad, but none quite as detached from reality as the Labubu. Some people still keep their 30-year-old Beanie Babies because they’re just that cute. Squishmallows stay in the regular rotation alongside pillows because they are, in fact, somewhat functional. Even Stanley cups, at the very least, can hold water.

What can a Labubu do? Nothing. If anything, this is a conversation starter for how universally disliked they’ve become. At the end of the day, we can pretend that the Labubu trend is a greater issue with consumerism and our inability to purchase things because of our personal taste, and not because a celebrity told us to. But really, we all know it’s because they’re just really ugly.

Written by: Amber Duhs — alduhs@ucdavis.edu

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