Ooh la Labubu

 

 

"Art Monsters" Labubus at the Louvre

Ever have a feeling your life is missing something? A mysterious "extra" that would elevate your very existence? What if I told you that you could BUY that “something”? Wouldn’t it be worth a fortune? Of course it would!

 

Luckily, happiness costs much less than that. Your ticket to fulfillment, according to Pop Mart, starts at a rock-bottom $20, though prices soar into the stratosphere from there, especially for "secret edition" items. I’m talkin’ bout Labubus, of course. Yup, those furry creatures with devilish grins that, we are told, are what our paltry, humdrum lives have been lacking.

Launched in 2015, Labubus are modeled on the Monsters book series by Hong Kong artist Kasing Lung. Lung, who moved to the Netherlands as a child, was charmed by Nordic folklore, especially elves. He created “mischievous creatures” who, though always well-intentioned, often cause chaos. In 2019, the Asian toy giant Pop Mart began selling them, using the clever marketing strategy of the ”blind box,” and the rest is adorably fuzzy history. 

 

The concept of the “blind box” is nothing new, as those of us who used to buy Cracker Jacks solely for the toy surprise inside understand (I know no one who ever actually enjoyed EATING a Cracker Jack, myself included). An unopened pack of baseball cards offers the same thrill. Have you acquired a Mickey Mantle? Or just a Gordon Seyfried (no relation) (I think), a pitcher who, in 12 seasons, played in a whopping five MLB games?  It’s a bit of taking a chance, rolling the dice, succumbing to the allure of the unknown, that is within us all. One purchases, THEN one discovers that which one has purchased! So you don’t know if your Labubu will be pink or green or orange, if it will sport a tiny motorcycle helmet, a princess crown, or wings. It’s a glorious moment when you, the buyer, realize you’ve shelled out a king’s ransom for a plush toy with a face that could give you nightmares! 

 

And don’t take their popularity from me. Ask Rhianna! Ask K-Pop sensation Lisa of Blackpink! Ask Dua Lipa! All of these megawatt stars have been seen with Labubus hooked to their handbags. There are even Labubus dressed as Mona Lisa and The Girl with a Pearl Earring, sold at the Louvre. Kid you not. 

 

I am personally not tempted. This is not my first toy rodeo. I remember the rare Princes Di Beanie Baby, which we were PROMISED would one day skyrocket in value. Still waiting. Fool me once, shame on you, TY. Fool me twice, shame on me. Thankfully Sher and Yaj are not rushing out to buy blind boxes for under the Christmas tree. 

 

However, I guess I do see the appeal. In this world of uncertainty and angst, what’s one more mystery? And also, doesn’t “well-meaning creatures who often cause chaos” describe most of us humans? Labubus, like ‘em or not, are here to stay.

 

Until the next crazy fad comes along, that is. 

Julie and friend Laura pose with some Beanies, circa 2000

Memory Palace

  

This week marks the 20^th anniversary of my first manic episode (that I can identify as such). Just as my mind can often recall specific moments of trauma perfectly, so it can bring back the time surrounding them (no idea how that works). 

 

For instance, I recall exactly which book on my bookshelf I was looking at when the 1981 phone call came that my sister Mo had died in a car accident. But I also remember everything I did the day BEFORE, including buying a pair of shoes at a store in Suburban Square, Ardmore, PA, and what I'd cooked for dinner (baked chicken breasts with herbed breadcrumbs). Obviously, I had no idea that tragedy was in the immediate future. Weird, right? 

 

And 11 years earlier, I was in Atlanta when I heard my beloved  Nana Cunningham had passed away in New York;  I played a recording of “Evening Prayer” from Hansel and Gretel (Nana, a wonderful pianist, often played a transcription of this). I also remember that my high school had just, the previous day, OK’d the wearing of pants (not blue jeans) to school for girls. 

 

Same is true of this strange, sad anniversary. The day in late August, 2005 that I became manic, we were at our summer rental house in Lewes, DE, and suddenly I was talking a mile a minute and feeling a rush of wild excitement (over absolutely nothing, by the way). But I also remember the day BEFORE, taking my mom for a haircut at a Hair Cuttery in a nearby shopping center—what I was wearing, the weather, everything. 

 

It would take a solid year of mental illness and eventual treatment, for me to begin to see daylight. I do NOT remember the moment I first felt better, however. It’s as if the brain is wired to bring back sorrow, much more readily than joy. 

 

Not to say I have forgotten my wedding day, or the births of my children--I haven’t--but those memories lack the crystal clarity of breaking my arm (onstage, during a performance of The Wizard of Oz in South Jersey), and every second of my (mercifully brief) encounter with an intruder in my family room when I was a teenager. 

 

There is a very old method of improving memory that dates back to the ancient Greeks, and is popular again. Nowadays, it’s known as The Memory Palace, and it involves connecting specific locations to what you want to remember. Need apples and aluminum foil at the grocery store? Picture apples dancing along your kitchen counter, and foil-covered telephone poles as you drive to the market. 

I find the concept intriguing, and wonder if it could be used to strengthen happy memories, and weaken bad ones. I don’t want to erase the tough times, because I want to experience all of life. But I’d love to look at the dust jacket of The Thorn Birds, or hear “Evening Prayer,” without painful flashbacks. 

 

Bring on the dancing apples, please.

photo by Suzy Hazelwood on Pexels