Pop Mart Stock Drops, Exposing Risks in the Collectibles Boom as Labubu Craze Fades

A few years ago, visiting a Pop Mart flagship store in Shanghai or Hong Kong was like stepping into a carnival for collectors. Crowds spilled out onto sidewalks, queues snaked around corners, and shoppers clutched mystery blind boxes with the eagerness of treasure hunters. The company had brought its cult favorite Labubu figure — a cartoon character with mischief in its eyes and a legion of enthusiasts in its wake — to the world, and investors were watching the phenomenon with dollar signs in their eyes.

But fast forward to December 2025, and that energy has largely dissipated. The crowds have thinned. The lines have disappeared. And the stock that once seemed poised for meteoric growth has instead crashed — losing nearly half its value in a matter of months. It is a stark reversal for a company once celebrated as the darling of China’s modern toy and collectibles market.

Earlier this month, retail analysts touring overseas Pop Mart stores noticed something unmistakable: the foot traffic that once defined the brand’s global appeal had evaporated. In cities where Pop Mart locations were once bustling with shoppers rifling through blind-box shelves and limited-edition displays, aisles now saw few customers — and rarely the long queues so synonymous with the brand’s peak craze.

“I used to see lines down the block for Labubu drops,” said one store manager at a major European outlet. “Now we have quiet afternoons like any other retailer.”

This shift didn’t happen overnight. Every new Labubu series or collaboration, whether it had seasonal themes, artist tie-ins, or rare chase figures, would attract a lot of fans and sell well for a while. But demand that seemed insatiable began to wane as novelty fatigue set in, secondary-market prices softened, and casual collectors moved on to other pursuits.

These changes were not lost on investors. In the second half of 2025, the stock of Pop Mart began to show signs of weakness. The stock had soared as the company expanded its footprint and product lines. The slide accelerated sharply when key sales metrics and foot-traffic data pointed to declining consumer enthusiasm. By December, the share price had plunged by roughly 40 % from recent highs, wiping billions off the market capitalization and challenging narratives of perpetual growth.

For some long-term holders and private equity participants, the losses were especially painful. Analysts noted that Pop Mart’s valuation had been predicated on sustained global demand for collectibles and continued expansion into the U.S. and European markets — projections that now look overly optimistic in hindsight.

Several forces converged to turn enthusiasm into disillusionment:

1. Brand fatigue: The pop-culture collectible space is inherently fickle. What was novel — a blind-box figure with unique art and limited release — gradually became familiar. As similar toys proliferated from competitors, the emotional drive that once pushed fans to line up dissipated.

2. Competition: Rivals from both domestic and international markets flooded the category with blind-box series, licensed characters, and low-cost alternatives. Where Pop Mart once stood nearly alone at the top, it now shares a crowded stage.

3. Secondary market pressures: The resale market — where rare Labubu figures once commanded hefty premiums — cooled significantly in 2025. When collectors stop seeing aftermarket value, demand at retail often slows too.

4. Global expansion challenges: Pop Mart’s overseas stores initially drove spectacle more than sustainable sales. Without local brand roots or deep cultural integration, many international outlets struggled to maintain consistent demand beyond the first wave of novelty shoppers.

The narrative of decline isn’t just about charts and stock tickers — it’s about real people whose experiences reflect shifting trends. A young collector in Seoul described her journey from obsessive fan to cautious buyer: “I used to save up for every new Labubu release. But after a few series, it started to feel less special. I now only buy occasionally. In Berlin, a store employee said foot traffic used to spike on weekends and holidays. “Now, some weeks go by without a line. Customers trickle in — not rush in.”

On social platforms once dominated by unboxing videos and trading communities, engagement has faded as short-form trends and other niche hobbies capture attention. The meme-like obsession that lifted Pop Mart to fame seems to have migrated elsewhere — a reminder of how transient viral culture can be.

For Pop Mart’s leadership, the current moment is part reckoning and part reinvention. Executives have signaled plans to diversify products, pursue deeper licensing deals with established global franchises, and integrate community-based experiences to reignite interest. There’s also talk of leveraging technology — augmented reality, digital collectibles — to create new layers of engagement beyond physical toys.

But these strategies will take time, and the market’s patience appears limited. Investors are watching closely for evidence that Pop Mart can turn its brand narrative from nostalgia to innovation — before the next craze comes and goes.

In a culture where trends flare up and fade overnight, the lesson for Pop Mart may be the same one experienced by fans and investors alike: the magic of collectibility is alive only so long as the crowd still cares.