Across cities and campuses, in shopping centers and cafés, a peculiar trend has been quietly taking over. What once may have seemed like a harmless display of personal style has now caught the attention of psychologists and consumer behavior experts. What’s fueling the obsession? Why are these strange little objects commanding so much emotional investment? And what does it reveal about the current emotional climate—especially among Gen Z?
Experts say it’s not just about toys. It’s about something far deeper, and perhaps more urgent.
A Generation in Love with Trinkets
Whether you’ve noticed them dangling from handbags, crowding car dashboards, or taking over TikTok unboxings, Labubus, Jellycats, Squishmallows, Sonny Angels, and Pop Mart blind boxes have become modern-day talismans—part fashion accessory, part emotional anchor.
In malls across the UK and the US, Pop Mart shops now routinely sell out of Labubus within hours. Instagram feeds are flooded with collections of pastel-toned plushies. Even McDonald’s Happy Meals have embraced the cultural moment, offering miniature Squishmallows as limited-edition collectibles. In high school lockers and corporate offices alike, these quirky figurines and soft toys are not just accepted—they’re celebrated.
But while the aesthetic appeal is obvious, experts say the emotional undercurrent behind the trend is what demands our attention.
The Data Behind the Craze
According to Daniel Fisher, Head of Categories at online marketplace Whatnot, the growth in this category has been explosive:
“Labubu live sales alone have jumped 300% month-on-month since March. And the number of sellers specializing in Labubus has doubled in that same time frame.”
Whatnot, like many platforms capitalizing on live shopping and digital commerce, has become a hub for both collectors and casual buyers. But this isn’t just a financial boom—it’s a cultural one.
The question is: Why now? Why this generation?
A Psychological Response to a Disconnected World
Tracy King, a chartered clinical psychologist, believes the answer lies in the emotional terrain that Gen Z has grown up in.
“On the surface, these collectibles are whimsical and lighthearted,” she says. “But psychologically, they’re deeply symbolic. They provide small, accessible moments of comfort, control, and identity in an unpredictable world.”
In short, Labubus aren’t just cute—they’re coping mechanisms.
Dr. King likens the shift in generational expectations to an “escape room” rather than a career ladder. The traditional promises—work hard, climb the ladder, build a life—have eroded. In their place, Gen Z faces moving goalposts, economic volatility, and information overload.
“You’re expected to solve problems with no clear instructions. The economy’s unstable. The climate crisis looms. And home ownership feels like a fantasy. Trinkets offer joy in digestible doses.”
In this context, a plush strawberry-hat Labubu isn’t trivial. It’s soothing. It’s stable. It doesn’t judge. It won’t vanish with a market crash.
Not Just Toys: “Micro-Luxuries” With Meaning
Dr. Daniel Glazer, a cognitive psychologist, supports this interpretation.
“Gen Z came of age during recessions and a pandemic. When conventional milestones were delayed or destroyed, they redirected discretionary spending toward micro-luxuries—items that deliver immediate joy and psychological grounding.”
He explains that these purchases aren’t signs of immaturity or escapism. Instead, they’re a method of emotional regulation—particularly for a generation that has faced intense burnout, digital anxiety, and global instability from an early age.
This behavior, while sometimes ridiculed by older generations, is increasingly being recognized by professionals as “inner child work”—an effort to restore emotional balance through gentle, tactile, and playful objects.
Identity, Belonging, and Emotional Safety
As Dr. King elaborates:
“In a world full of uncertainty, collecting things like Jellycats and Labubus becomes a form of nervous system regulation. These objects provide emotional safety, evoke nostalgia, and can be personalized to reflect one’s identity.”
And let’s not forget the role of social media. Platforms like TikTok and Instagram allow users to curate and share their plushie collections as a form of self-expression. Soft toys have become part of the aesthetic language that Gen Z uses to say: “This is me. This is what brings me joy.”
In fact, these items now function much like fashion accessories or music tastes once did. From Dua Lipa to Blackpink’s Lisa, celebrities have been seen styling Labubus or Jellycats in streetwear shoots or fan selfies. This isn’t just play—it’s branding.
Consumer Culture and the Need for Control
The rise in trinket collecting also taps into a deeper psychological need: the desire for control in small ways, especially when life feels chaotic.
“Collectibles provide a sense of mastery,” says Dr. Glazer. “You choose what to buy, how to display it, which ones to hunt for, and which to trade. It’s a miniature world you can shape, unlike the unpredictability of jobs, relationships, or politics.”
Indeed, part of the appeal is the ritual—the unboxing, the chase, the organizing. These acts offer structure and meaning, even if they revolve around a 3-inch plastic figure in a duck costume.
Why This Isn’t Just a Trend
Critics have dismissed trinket culture as immature, wasteful, or emotionally regressive. But the experts interviewed by Tyla strongly disagree.
“This isn’t a shallow obsession,” says Dr. King. “It’s a psychological response to the pressures of modern life. It’s how people are reclaiming a sense of calm and connection in a fragmented world.”
She predicts the trend won’t fade anytime soon. In fact, she believes it will “evolve and deepen.”
The surge in plush toys, keychain charms, and collectible figurines isn’t about reverting to childhood—it’s about redefining what self-care looks like in a digitally overloaded era.
The Role of Community and Belonging
What separates this trend from past toy crazes is the deep sense of community that has grown around it. Live stream auctions on Whatnot, dedicated Discord servers, and TikTok fan pages have turned collecting into a social ritual.
“Fans aren’t just buying,” says Fisher from Whatnot. “They’re curating, trading, and storytelling. Each stream becomes a social event—a space where people can feel seen, heard, and connected.”
In a post-pandemic world where social interaction is increasingly online, collectibles offer a bridge between personal joy and communal experience.
When Comfort Becomes Commerce
Of course, with any booming trend, there are downsides. Consumer experts warn that the blind box model used by Pop Mart and similar companies encourages overspending through scarcity tactics and artificial rarity.
Limited drops, random box contents, and exclusive editions can pressure buyers—especially younger ones—into spending beyond their means in the pursuit of emotional satisfaction.
Some critics liken it to gambling, where the “hit” of dopamine from a rare pull keeps people coming back for more.
A Warning—But Not a Condemnation
So, what’s the verdict from psychologists?
“We’re not saying don’t buy plushies or enjoy collecting,” clarifies Dr. King. “But be mindful. If your sense of peace is too closely tied to consumption, it’s worth pausing.”
She encourages Gen Zers to examine their motives: Are you buying for joy—or for escape? Are you collecting or coping?
Used intentionally, trinkets can offer tremendous emotional value. But if overdone, they risk becoming a crutch—something that masks pain instead of healing it.
Final Thoughts: The Objects That Hold Us Together
In a time of spiraling costs, vanishing certainties, and relentless online pressure, it’s no wonder people are turning to the small, soft, and sparkly for a sense of stability. Labubus, Jellycats, and Sonny Angels might not change the world—but they offer something rare: tiny moments of comfort in a world that feels too big, too fast, and too loud.
As Fisher puts it:
“We’re in an era where personalization is king, identity is fluid, and comfort is currency. Trinkets aren’t just toys—they’re symbols of how we survive.”
So, whether you’re clipping a Labubu to your tote bag or organizing a shelf full of pastel bunnies, know this: you’re not alone, and you’re not silly.
You’re human.
And sometimes, being human means finding peace in a plush strawberry hat.
