labubu, jellycats & the longing for emotional support toys

i don’t remember when i first saw labubu — but it was probably somewhere between a morning scroll and a late-night rabbit hole. the screen was dim, my coffee was unfinished, and some girl was unboxing a blind box with slow, ceremonial care. the toy emerged from plastic like a tiny secret — sharp-toothed grin, big glassy eyes, limbs stiff with charm. and there it was: labubu. small, weird, adorable. utterly unnecessary. and completely magnetic.

a few days later, it showed up again — this time in someone’s “soft life shelf” next to a jellycat bunny, some glossier balm dotcoms, a miniature candle, and a hardcover book no one really reads but everyone displays. i didn’t know what i was looking at yet. but i knew what it felt like.

something in me softened.

there’s been a rise in emotional support objects lately. jellycats, sanrio plushies, labubu figurines, squishmallows, sunny angels. they appear in home vlogs and sunday resets. they sit on bookshelves with the importance of family heirlooms. people carry them in tote bags. pose them next to matcha. sleep beside them. no one’s pretending they’re for the kids anymore. this is grown-up adulthood — curated, aesthetic, and deeply nostalgic.