For years, the lipstick index was the unofficial economist-approved beauty barometer. When the market dipped, lipstick sales went up. A simple, feel-good theory: when people can’t afford big luxuries, they reach for small indulgences. But here’s the plot twist—lipstick isn’t cutting it anymore.
The lipstick index is officially defunct, not because people don’t crave little luxuries (they absolutely do), but because the product itself has lost its symbolic value. Lipsticks are no longer aspirational. Between the flood of affordable dupes, influencer hauls, and the rise of “clean girl” aesthetics that favour glosses, balms, and barely-there tints, the once-iconic bullet has been pushed to the back of the drawer, literally and culturally.
And let’s be honest: lipstick was never as collectable. It expires. It’s messy. You can’t display it on a shelf like a trophy. You can’t flex it on your desk. And you definitely can’t swap it with strangers on the Discord.
So what is the new indicator of emotional economic spending?
Enter: Labubu.
If you’re not already familiar with Labubu, it’s time to catch up. These oddball, wide-eyed vinyl creatures are part of Pop Mart’s blind box universe—a toy collectible brand born out of Chinese designer toy culture, now stocked globally in stores like Miniso, Urban Outfitters, and even airport terminals. Labubu, in particular, is the work of Hong Kong artist Kasing Lung and has emerged as Pop Mart’s breakout star. With their sharp teeth and unmistakable glee (or mischief, depending on the series) Labubus are both slightly creepy and deeply endearing.
And more importantly, they’re everywhere.
It’s fascinating to see something so distinctly Asian in aesthetic and origin (down to the mystery-box format and kawaii-meets-weird styling) go mainstream with Western audiences. A few years ago, Western culture might’ve dismissed Labubu as “too niche” or “too weird,” but now they’re being proudly displayed on shelves, turned into bag charms, and celebrated like little luxury mascots. There’s a clear shift happening in what’s considered cool and collectable and it’s rooted in a cultural fluency that didn’t exist a decade ago.
It’s a familiar pattern: a hyper-specific cultural product gets decontextualised, rebranded as lifestyle, and turned into a mass-market flex. Bag charms, Sanrio-core, pastel maximalism—so much of what’s currently considered “cool” is lifted from East Asian culture, then commodified without acknowledgement. What once lived in anime forums and niche shops in Richmond is now hanging from Urban Outfitters displays, with barely a nod to its origins.
This doesn’t mean people can’t enjoy Labubu (or that it’s your fault if you do). But it does mean we should clock how this all works: cultural aesthetics being mined, sanitized, and monetized by the same systems that once mocked them. Labubu isn’t just a cute object—it’s an economic symbol, a product of globalisation, and a lesson in who gets to profit from “weird and cute” when it becomes fashionable.
Labubus aren’t just cute. They’re collectable. They’re tradeable. They’re investment-coded. Unlike lipstick, a Labubu won’t dry out or get lost at the bottom of your tote bag. It sits on your shelf, becomes part of your online persona, and maybe even earns you clout in a very specific corner of the internet. There’s something deeply satisfying about owning something adorable, semi-rare, and just absurd enough to make you feel like you’re in on the joke.
They also tap into something lipstick never did: community. There are group chats, subreddits, and resale markets. There’s a thrill to unboxing a blind toy. And, perhaps most importantly, there’s a dopamine hit every time someone asks, “Wait, what is that?”
Labubus are the perfect little luxury for the now era: emotionally resonant, culturally specific, and just justifiable enough at checkout to pretend it’s not a silly purchase. They’re whimsical comfort objects for financially anxious millennials and Gen Zers who need a break from the relentless grind of adulthood.
So pour one out for the lipstick index. Its era was glossy and great—but it couldn’t compete with a tiny litle monster in a fun colour.
