Is Drop Culture Gen Z’s Kryptonite?
This past weekend, I found myself in central London with my nine-year-old daughter, on a mission to find a Labubu. If you know, you know. If you don’t, consider yourself lucky.
Our quest took us through several Pop Marts, but it was most pronounced in Selfridges’ toy department, where there were queues of over two hours for the JellyCat fish and chips experience. The Full Experience Set—a cuddly fish, chips, mushy peas, and sausage—costs £165. The most striking thing? At least 90% of the customers were adults.
In fact, following queues in the thousands, Pop Mart announced on Monday: “They will temporarily pause the sale of Labubu plush toys until further notice, to ensure the safety and comfort of everyone.”
Drop Culture isn’t new in fashion. It’s been de rigueur for brands like Supreme, Palace, and Kith to have hyped, limited-edition launches of clothes, shoes, and bags. Kith even drops new ice cream flavours and custom combos in-store.
And in hospitality, this isn’t foreign territory. Back in the Pitt Cue days, we ran some incredible collabs and pop-ups. You see it now in formats like Kitchen No.8, a rotating chef residency at BoxHall City. But what’s happening now feels like it goes deeper than just the next cool activation.
The Rise of the Experiential Obsession
Gen Z is different. They’re drinking less, yes, but more to the point, they’re craving experience. They want comfort and nostalgia, things that feel safe and familiar, but they also want the thrill of something exclusive, new, even bizarre. And they want to show it off.
They are a generation raised on social media moments, and the Jellycat and Labubu queues are a perfect example of how even a plush toy can become a badge of cultural capital.
Here’s what the data tells us:
Experience = Status: A full 78% of Gen Z and millennials prefer to spend on experiences over products; the memory and the moment are the prize.
Social Media is the Lens: Around 70% of Gen Z discover new food, fashion, and events through TikTok, Instagram, and YouTube. If it’s not worth posting, it might as well not exist.
FOMO is Fuel: Drop culture works because it creates urgency, limited-time only, blink-and-you-miss-it experiences that tap directly into the fear of missing out.
What Food Halls Can Learn
Food halls aren’t just about feeding people, they’re about creating moments, emotions, and memories. And Gen Z isn’t coming for dinner. They’re coming for a scene, a feeling, a story they can share.
To win their attention (and wallets), food halls need to:
Make It Limited: Curate short-run concepts, limited menus, or surprise chef collabs. Think streetwear logic, but with flavour.
Design for the 'Gram: Build physical spaces and visual moments that people want to photograph, not just food, but the environment, the energy, the interaction.
Build Emotional Hooks: Use nostalgia, humour, playfulness and yes, even a bit of absurdity to create joyful, unexpected experiences people will remember (and talk about).
Create Buzz, Not Ads: Forget traditional marketing. Tease drops, partner with influencers, create ‘leaks’, and let anticipation do the heavy lifting.
Final Thought
The Labubu queue isn’t just about toys. It’s about a generation that’s hungry for joy, connection, and meaning, all wrapped in a layer of Instagrammable absurdity. The question for food halls isn’t whether to engage them. It’s whether you're doing enough to deserve their time and their TikTok.
How are you creating cultural currency, not just food and drink? Let’s keep the conversation going.
