The Capitalism of ‘It Me”: Why We Buy Personalities in a Box
- Mirsyad
- 6 hours ago
- 3 min read
As children, many of us carried a favourite toy everywhere. A stuffed bear, a small figurine or a worn-out blanket. Today that instinct seems to have returned to a slightly stranger form. Perhaps that instinct never really left us, it just evolved. Once you notice them, you start seeing them everywhere.
Labubus hanging from Longchamps. Smiskis clinging to backpacks. Dimoos swinging from the handles of Prada. These tiny characters aren't just sitting on shelves anymore, they are travelling through classrooms, trains, offices and cafes. Somewhere along the way, we decided that adulthood was a lot easier to navigate with a companion clipped to our straps.
The Performance of Expertise
Before these characters ever make it onto the bag, they begin with a performance of expertise. Inside Pop Mart stores, adulting is temporarily suspended. You'll see people with degrees and deadlines performing what collectors call the “Shake Test”, holding cardboard boxes to their ears with the focus of a cardiologist. They are listening for the density of their desired characters, the tell-tale slide of the identification card against the packaging or the specific “thud’ of a secret pull. Until the foil is ripped the toy exists in a state of Schrödinger-like possibility. For those few seconds before the reveal, the 9-to-5 disappears. It feels like opening a Kinder Joy or a pack of Pokemon cards as a kid, except now the dopamine hit is funded by an adult salary.
Vandalizing Luxury: The Small Canvas of Identity
But this trend isn't just about the thrill of the pull, it's about what happens afterward. In a world of digital noise and “quiet luxury”,we’ve decided to vandalize our expensive belongings with RM80+ monsters. It is a playful contradiction, a way of saying that our lives are meant to be lived with, not worshipped. The bag stops being just an accessory and becomes something more personal, a small canvas of identity.
There’s a simple reason why we do this, and economists actually have a name for it, the “Lipstick Effect.” It's the idea that when the big, expensive milestones of life feel totally out of reach, we treat ourselves to smaller, affordable luxuries to bridge the gap. It’s the same logic as buying an RM30 lippie just to treat yourself, when you can't afford the big dream, you buy the small joy. A blindbox becomes a manageable treat that provides a high emotional return for a relatively low cost. For the student library at 2 a.m. or the worker facing a long commute, these characters act as small anchors. They are companions for a generation that is always moving, yet looking for something steady to hold onto.
Beyond the economy of it, there is a “Community of Strangers” that forms around these trinkets. In a crowded train or quiet cafe, catching a glimpse of a rare character on a stranger’s bag is like a secret handshake. It is a silent signal in a big city that says, i get it too. It turns a lonely commute into a shared hobby, connecting people who might never otherwise speak.
At its core, this trend is about curation. We don’t just throw any character on, we match the tone of the tone of the figure to the “vibe” of the bag, turning a mass-produced object into a carefully placed piece of self-expression
The Magic of the Gamble
There is a conversation to be had about the “G-word”, gambling. But really, it comes down to why you're standing in that store in the first place . Gambling is about the ‘win’, the hope of getting something more valuable than what you paid for. But for most of us there is no “prize’ to be won. The win is the toy itself. That isn't to say there isn't a bit of joy in the “gacha” of it all. There is a shared magic in the gamble–the way friends huddle together to make bets on what’s inside the box, or the way we cheer when someone finally pulls the specific Smiski they’ve been eyeing on the side of the packaging. We are not betting on a stock, we are just looking for a little bit of magic. The value isn't what the toy could sell for later, but in the simple fact that it's there , swinging from our bag, making a Tuesday morning feel a little less grey.
In many ways, these bag charms show how instincts don't disappear, they just change form. Whether it's a stuffed bear from twenty years ago or a vinyl monster today, the essence remains the same. We are simply finding whimsical ways to carry our inner worlds with us, making the journey feel a little less heavy.
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