Pop Mart and the Economics of “Uselessness”: Why We Pay for Feelings

Why “useless” things often matter most

Wang Ning once said: “Anything with a function will eventually decay. Only the useless can last.”

At first glance, that sounds paradoxical. In a world obsessed with productivity, efficiency, and utility, why would anyone deliberately celebrate “uselessness”?

Think about it: imagine buying a MOLLY figurine that doubles as a USB drive. Your rational brain kicks in immediately—I already own three USB drives. Do I really need another one? Desire fades.

But when that same MOLLY does absolutely nothing but sit there looking cute, the equation changes. Your decision bypasses logic and flows directly through emotion. You want it not because it performs a function, but because it comforts you, brightens your desk, or signals your taste to friends.

That’s the magic of what I call useless economics: it doesn’t sell functionality. It sells emotion. And in doing so, it creates a kind of value that is strangely more enduring than “useful” objects.

Pop Mart’s biggest stroke of genius was the blind box.

You don’t buy a figurine—you buy a sealed mystery. The thrill lies in not knowing what you’ll get until you tear it open. Maybe it’s a common piece. Maybe it’s a rare hidden edition. That moment of uncertainty is electrifying, a microdose of adrenaline that feels more exciting than purchasing something predictable.

And the experience doesn’t stop at purchase. If you draw a duplicate, the story continues. You might trade with strangers online, join a fan group, or meet someone in person to swap figurines. A small toy suddenly functions as a social passport, granting entry into communities, friendships, and shared rituals.

In essence, Pop Mart transformed retail into a game. Each box is less about ownership and more about participation—about being part of an unfolding adventure.

A Labubu is worth more than plastic

Scroll through social media and you’ll notice something fascinating: when someone pulls a hidden Labubu, it’s not just a toy reveal—it’s a bragging right.

That figurine is no longer mere plastic. It’s a badge of identity. It broadcasts: I get the culture. I belong here.

This is the same psychology that fuels sneakerheads flaunting rare Jordans or whiskey collectors chasing limited editions. The object itself is secondary. What really matters is the cultural signal, the belonging, the sense of being part of a tribe.

For Pop Mart fans, figurines aren’t collectibles—they’re social currency.

Companionship beats storytelling

Critics often say Pop Mart’s characters lack the rich storytelling of Disney or Pixar. There are no epic plots, no cinematic universes. But Wang Ning disagrees.

“Stories may fade. Companionship doesn’t.”

Labubu, MOLLY, and Dimoo don’t need sweeping narratives. Instead, they evolve through design—astronaut costumes, floral patterns, streetwear themes. Month after month, new variations arrive. Slowly, these characters take on the texture of daily life.

They’re not heroes or villains. They’re companions. Quiet presences on your shelf, your desk, or your Instagram feed. Over time, that simple companionship creates a deeper, steadier bond than a single movie arc could ever achieve.

Uselessness as emotional infrastructure

Zoom out, and Pop Mart isn’t just selling toys. It’s quietly constructing what could be called emotional infrastructure.

Just as highways let people travel anytime, and the internet allows us to connect anytime, Pop Mart provides a plug-in source of small, repeatable joys. One blind box. One unboxing video. One local trading event. Each functions as a tiny generator of happiness and belonging.

In a high-pressure, hyper-rational world, these so-called “useless” pleasures prove essential. They provide micro-moments of relief, joy, and identity—things functional goods rarely deliver.

Final thoughts

Of course, useless economics has its risks. When the novelty of blind boxes wears off, or when competitors flood the market with lookalikes, can Pop Mart continue generating fresh emotional value? Can they keep reinventing companionship without stretching characters too thin?

That’s the real test of the empire Wang Ning built.

But for now, one thing is undeniable: a tiny Labubu figurine has already shown us a counterintuitive truth.

sometimes useless is more powerful than useful.