I’ve reached many lows in my life, but it was truly a dark day when I looked deep into the eyes of my new Labubu and realised: I’m a sheep. No false claims to irony could conceal the truth that, after adopting: “24-carat gold … La-bew-bew” as my latest catchphrase, the hideous things had started to captivate me. You may wonder how it took so long to discover the fatal flaw of my conformity – barely a month into 20 and I’m already having revelations about my character – but I’ve always considered myself a mere observer to trend cycles. This mild, and fundamentally delusional, superiority complex hasn’t been helped by my chronically offline mum, who lauds my ingenuity when I recite things like: “go piss, girl.”

“It’s their tackiness, their inherent vulgarity, that drew me in”

That said, the bulk of the blame is on me. I hopped on the Instax craze in 2019, fawned over cow print in 2020, and, just this week, decided to buy a Labubu. Maybe this all makes you sick – what a despicable ode to consumerism! I have no real rebuff to this, but I can wholeheartedly assure you that I don’t let things go to waste. A sheep I may be, but nobody can deny that the Chilli’s water bottle I bought in lieu of a Hydroflask is still firmly glued to my lips, and the one Jellycat I own (in all fairness, gifted to me on my second birthday) is as much a part of my life as ever.

I shouldn’t really need to defend myself (though, I suppose, this article is my defence). When Labubus inevitably become, what’s the word, cheugy, I’ll likely keep mine as a kind of gimmick. Then again, were they ever actually cool? Look at them. If anything, I think they’re a kind of anti-trend – I’m yet to meet a real-life person who sincerely likes them, and even I have to admit that it’s their tackiness, their inherent vulgarity, that drew me in. I pity them and their fiendish grins. I feel, as the saying goes, that we perhaps once picked apples together in papa’s orchard.

“I don’t think there’s too much harm in allowing yourself to succumb from time-to-time”

In trying to justify this purchase to my friends, I pointed out the many, many trends that I think are worse. The most apt comparison I could find were Gonks, those garish little gnome things which, fun fact for those who don’t know me, I hate with a burning passion. Last year, my nan inexplicably got the impression that I love Gonks. She bought me two, one of which was a Gonk-shaped candle. I went along with the idea to spare her feelings until I came home from Cambridge to a third. Three Gonks, all destined for the charity shop. At least Labubus are small. Mine in particular is about the size of a Tic-Tac box. Unlike Gonks, which take up so much space they’re impossible to ignore, a Labubu is relatively harmless. If the (unlikely) day should come that I grow sick of her hideous face, I’ll pass her on to my nephew, and she’ll become a family heirloom, a reminder of the brain rot of yore. All this to say, she’s still a miles-better investment than a Gonk – a word I keep repeating to hammer home my disgust. Ick.

Beyond the inherent flaws of excessive consumerism, you have to admit there’s a strange sense of community in giving in to the occasional trend. We jeer at those with Labubus, but where’s the vitriol for the many who traded their checkered Vans for Fila stompers and, eventually, Adidas Sambas? It’s difficult to avoid the allure of trend cycles, and I don’t think there’s too much harm in allowing yourself to succumb from time-to-time. When I look fondly at the little creature now hanging from my car’s sun visor, I feel connected to the millions who rushed to buy them – so many, in fact, that Popmart pulled them from their British stores.

If it makes me a more sympathetic figure, I bought my Labubu second-hand. I actually, quite desperately, wanted to buy a Lafufu – I thought it’d be funnier for the bit. For better or worse, I have joined the hoard of people cradling these ugly, loveable collectables (though, let me reassure you, I will not be buying another). I won’t advertise that you do the same, but I do think it’s time we get off our high horses and admit that it’s human to like or want popular things. Of course, if the only reason you want something is because others have it, then maybe you should try to figure out what you actually like. Still, if that Stanley cup is speaking to you, you’re not wrong to heed its call! So long as the purchase is made with deliberate thought and not on impulse, it’s my unprofessional opinion that you’re sound.