A thought: What if the first decision of your day wasn’t what to wear, but which tiny creature gets to ride on your bag? Welcome to the strange, wonderful world where adults treat bag charms like emotional support animals and backpacks become moving diaries. Beijing-based reporter and Temper contributor extraordinaire Layla Zhang takes you inside the dangling drama taking over China’s streets.
Charm. Packed. All images in this article are sourced from superkalifragalisticexpialidocious lifestyle bible app Xiaohongshu (RedNote)
Iused to think bag charms were just… accessories. You know, the thing you buy at a tourist trap and lose without knowing. But then I started noticing my friends’ bags.
One had a grumpy octopus dangling next to her work ID. Another rotated her charms like some people rotate their skincare routine—”This one’s for Mondays,” she explained, pointing to a hanging penguin. And me? I now have a collection that requires its own storage solution and a very patient fiancée who pretends not to notice when I bring home another “limited edition” plushie.
In this Close-Up, I, Layla Zhang, your friendly neighborhood bag charm anthropologist, set out to understand why a generation raised on smartphones and stress is now finding solace in fuzzy things that hang from zippers.
Spoiler: It’s about more than being cute. It’s about being heard, without ever saying a word.
“Sorry! I have mental health issues” (bottom row, second left) is just one example of customized bag charms voicing their owners’ “mental status quo” (insert wink)
In early January 2026, a small manufacturing error in Yiwu, China’s sprawling commodity hub in Zhejiang Province, turned into an unlikely cultural phenomenon. A worker at a toy factory mistakenly sewed the mouth of a plush horse, designed to smile for the then upcoming Year of the Horse (February 17, 2026-February 5, 2027) upside down. The result? A droopy-mouthed, tearful-looking creature that looked more like it had just been scolded than ready to celebrate the Chinese New Year.
“It was just a worker’s oversight,” Zhang Huoqing, a Yiwu-based toy producer and the boss of the factory, laughingly told newspaper China Youth Daily. “The mouth was sewn the wrong way. The horse was actually designed to smile, as it always has been.”
But what could have been discarded as a defect became a sensation. Dubbed the “Crying Horse” (kuku ma in Chinese) by netizens, the plush toy went viral after a customer posted it online, joking about its tragicomic expression.
Within 48 hours, Zhang’s company had ramped up production from two to 15 assembly lines. Orders poured in from across China, and soon from South Africa, the Middle East and Southeast Asia. By mid-January, production had reached 10,000 units a day, with orders booked through March.
“I never expected it to blow up like this,” Zhang said. “We actually contacted the customer who bought the first ‘wrong’ horse to return the product and we would send a ‘correct’ one instead. Who can predict we are now stepping up to make more?”
But the Crying Horse wasn’t just a viral product. It was a mirror. In its exaggerated sorrow, millions of young Chinese saw themselves.
The phenomenon of the Crying Horse is part of a much larger and faster-moving current. Across the country, bag charms (baogua in Chinese) have evolved from simple accessories into a booming sector of the “emotional economy.” In Guangzhou, capital of Guandong Province in southern China, a MINISO store dedicated an entire wall to them, featuring everything from classic intellectual properties (IPs) like Hello Kitty to trending favorites from Zootopia 2. Liu Xiaobin, MINISO vice president and chief marketing officer, noted that charm products now account for over 35 percent of the brand’s total plush toy stock. (MINISO is a Chinese-founded global retail brand known for selling lifestyle products, by the way.)
“Since the beginning of this year, our total sales of charm products have exceeded 12 million units,” he told Xinhua News Agency. The frenzy is equally visible online. On wildly popular Chinese lifestyle bible app Xiaohongshu (RedNote), the hashtag “everything can be hung from a bag” had garnered over 130 million views at the time of writing, as netizens eagerly share their matching strategies and “socialize” through their shared love for specific characters.
Your Bag Is Your Canvas
But before we dive deeper into the world of negative bag charms, there are always more regular, fashionable ones we should learn about, or those that aren’t necessarily an emotional SOS, but simply a match or trend.
For many young Chinese, the first decision of the day perhaps isn’t just what to wear, but which plush companion to clip onto their bag. “Which doll should I take out today?” This simple question signals a burgeoning trend, turning everyday accessories into a dynamic form of self-styling.
Along popular commercial streets in China, you might see shoppers, mostly Gen Zs, crowd the aisles of stores like MINISO, some clutching over a dozen items. Prices range from tens to hundreds of yuan (a few to tens of U.S. dollars), but the enthusiasm is uniform. These aren’t just impulse buys; they are curated extensions of one’s outfit. A classic Sanrio (the Japanese creator of Hello Kitty) character might be the perfect finishing touch for a cute, pastel look, while a quirky, original design adds a dash of irony to a minimalist work tote. Guo Jiayi, a bag charm collector who recently turned her hat and keychain rack into a bag charms rack, showed us her collection of over 200 items.
“I bought these over the past three years without really noticing how many I’ve bought,” Guo said. “Most of them, as you can see, are from Shanghai Disney Resort. I can’t leave the place without getting one each time after having so much fun. I put some on my backpack when I get to work every day- my bag can hold eight.”
The second-largest source of Guo’s collection is MINISO-sourced. In her words, the reason is that “MINISO is collaborating with so many great IPs worldwide now that you can get anything you want at a reasonable price. It’s like going shopping in a fluffy supermarket.”
So how does having different bag charms make one feel?
Gender. Neutral.
“Great,” Guo said. “I’ve long been a toy person. I have very big toys and over 30 Barbies back in my hometown. But I’m turning 30 now and it seems inappropriate to keep your barbies and dolls on your desk at work; it’s just too much. That’s why I turn to bag charms instead, They are portable and fun to play with.”
“They are also part of who I am, I guess,” Guo added. “In a law firm, I am this prudent, diligent, logical, sometimes even cold and profit-oriented person, but I could also be cute, considerate, gentle and caring deep down. I guess carrying around bag charms of characters who I believe are like me is a reminder of that side of myself.”
Xu Xinyue, an associate professor at the Institute for Cultural Industries of Shenzhen University, interprets the trend as a shift in consumption psychology. “Generation Z pays more attention to self-expression,” Xu told Xinhua News Agency. “Bag charms perfectly match their needs for emotional regulation, identity display and connecting with social circles.”
Then it is also about fashion. Just as one curates an outfit, the new generation curates a “bag-fit.” The choice of charm is basically a dialogue with the bag itself and the world at large. Guo shared some logic when choosing bag charms du jour:
A slouchy, oversized tote, the kind favored for a casual coffee run or a Sunday out and about, often gets a cluster of charms. Guo has a chain that can tie together several charms. Think a chunky key from Chiikawa (a Japanese manga and anime franchise) dangling next to a fluffy pom-pom and a miniature acrylic photo of a beloved idol. It’s about abundance and playfulness.
In contrast, a sleek, structured leather handbag for work calls for one single, statement piece with more delicate outfits, perhaps a small metal Sanrio charm or a miniature Labubu figure from POP MART, adding a whisper of whimsy without disrupting the professional silhouette.
“Bag charms have to match with specific bag vibes. For instance, I have this medium-sized black Toujours bag from Dior, and I often match it with a limited-edition Hello Kitty charm. You can see my logic here as well: Dior is delicate and classic, as is the Kitty in her little black dress,” Guo explained. “The black carryall from Louis Vuitton is also black, but I partner this one with my black metal pirate Disney figurine.”
Then there’s the mix ‘n match by IP tribe: Disney enthusiasts, for example, signal their allegiance with princess characters. The rise of “blind box” culture from brands like POP MART has added a layer of gamification, you don’t just buy a charm, you unveil it, and the specific figure you get becomes part of your story.
“Almost all bag charms person have their preferences for IPs,” Guo said. “Mine is Disney. Some friends enjoy the thrill of unboxing and there was a time when Labubu appeared a lot in my social circles and so you often saw those dangling from bags.”
The curation doesn’t stop there. Spring now sees an explosion of cherry blossom-themed acrylics and pastel plushies. Winter calls for warm, fuzzy textures and maybe a tiny Santa hat for a regular companion. A music festival bag gets its loudest, most chaotic charms, while a dinner date bag might only host one small, elegant piece. Unlike static figurines kept in display cabinets, these charms offer all-day “companionship” and serve as a mobile, visual business card for one’s personality, mood, and even schedule.
“I always put out my bag charms with bright and sunny colors to go with my wildly colorful dopamine outfit in summer, while in autumn, with my brown jackets, black over-the-knee boots and grey bags, I tend to choose the charm from the same color panel, such as the Maillard (responsible for browing of food in cooking) one. And I save the most ‘rock ‘n roll’ charms for concerts, “ Guo added.
The Rise of the ‘Sad’ Toy
Many readers may still wonder: How and why did sad toys become the new It thing among young Chinese?
It all has to do with not only fashion, but tradition, emotion and expression.
For many in China, buying a zodiac animal plush for the Chinese New Year is a cherished tradition. These toys are usually red and yellow, considered auspicious colors, with big smiles and cheerful poses. They symbolize good luck and prosperity for the year ahead.
“My family has a whole collection of the 12 Chinese Zodiac signs—smiling tigers, bunnies, oxen, and so on” said Lu Yajun, a Shenzhen-based young professional in her late 20s. “We even use them in our family photos taken during the holidays. Little kids in our family hold them up and stand front row. It’s a cute way to document time, when you see the toy in the picture, you instantly know what year it was taken.”
But this year, Lu got something different… She ordered the Crying Horse.
“My mom was so confused. She asked me, ‘Why would you want a crying horse? Doesn’t it bring bad luck? Won’t people think you’re unhappy? Think about all the guests that are coming to your place!'” Lu recalled. “But to me, it was adorable. And honestly, it reflected how I feel sometimes.”
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For a long time, traditional Zodiac cultural and creative products have primarily adopted festive and auspicious designs, yet overlooked consumers’ diverse emotional needs. The unexpected emergence of the Crying Horse happens to meet this demand. It may no longer be a symbol of perfection in the traditional sense, but it gains a sense of relatability and a touch of ironic charm. For office workers, it serves as a spokesperson for the feeling of “smiling on the outside but crying on the inside;” for those under pressure, its pitiful expression offers a silent form of understanding and empathy.
Lu’s choice is part of a broader shift among China’s youth. For years, young people have quietly embraced “sad” or “negative” toys, including bag charms, plushies and keychains that express frustration, exhaustion or existential dread. These aren’t just kitsch; they’re emotional outlets.
“I have been doing this (buying negative toys) for quite some time, and this crying horse thing just brought this to my mom’s attention for the first time, given the special festival occasion.”
A post tagged “fragile at work” shows an employee sporting the SpongBob grumpy-faced Octopus
“I have three bag charms that I rotate depending on my mood,” Lu said. “One is a penguin, another is a screaming cat holding a laptop and the third is the SpongeBob grumpy-faced Octopus. When I’m having a bad day, I pick the saddest one. When I’m happy, I switch to something cute. Basically, you can tell how I’m feeling just by looking at my bag.”
For Lu, these charms are more than accessories. They’re a form of emotional communication, subtle, personal and safe.
“I feel that my mom didn’t want me to buy this horse because many people from the older generations, including my own parents, are still stuck in a phase where they place great importance on maintaining a sense of outward dignity and pride, and they don’t want others to perceive any hint of dissatisfaction or difficulty in their lives. This might have to do with the environment they grew up in.”
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The Quiet Revolution
Lu is not alone. A quick search on RedNote reveals thousands of posts celebrating “negative toys.” Phrases like “This is the toy that truly represents my attitude toward life” or “This is exactly how I feel on my way to work” appear again and again.
Popular characters include the Spongebob Octopus, the blue, glasses-wearing Sadness from the Inside Out movies and a locally created IP called “Sweet but Sad Lolita.” But increasingly, young people are moving beyond existing characters. They want something more personal.
“We started making ‘sad toys’ in 2021,” said Chen Fu, who runs a Taobao store based in Yiwu–Taobao being e-commerce titan Alibaba’s online shopping Walhalla. “At first, we only made animals. Our bestseller was a dog that looked, well, sad. But now, we offer custom-made bag charms based on customers’ own faces.”
The process is simple: customers either draw themselves or commission an artist to create a caricature of their own expression—tired, grumpy, zoning out, crying. Then Chen’s team turns it into a bag charm.
“It costs about five times more than our regular products,” Chen said. “But many people are willing to pay the premium. Some even order a whole set of expressions—crying, sleepy, screaming, spaced-out.”
For Lu, this trend reflects deeper societal pressures. “I’m not a psychologist, but from my own experience and from talking to friends, I think we’re all under a lot of stress—work, relationships, family expectations,” she said. “Everyone finds their own way to cope. Some exercise, some travel, some play video games. For me, it’s putting a sad little toy on my bag and letting the world know I’m not 100 percent okay.”
The Numbers Behind the Mood
The emotional landscape Lu describes is backed by data. According to China’s National Bureau of Statistics, the average weekly working hours for employed people in China reached 49 hours in 2024, the highest in two decades. That translates to over 2,500 hours a year, nearly 800 hours more than the OECD average.
Long working hours have taken a toll on mental health and personal time. A 2026 report by the Hurun Research Institute found that China’s high-net-worth individuals are working longer and sleeping less. Among those aged 35 and under, the trend is even more pronounced.
In response, the Central Government has extended public holidays and included mental health targets in its Healthy China Initiative (2019–2030). But for many young people, systemic change feels distant. In the meantime, they still find solace in small things, like a plush horse with a frown.
“Leave me alone” (top left)
When Words Speak Louder
For a growing number of young Chinese, subtlety is no longer enough. They want their bag charms to shout out their feelings in a literal manner.
Welcome to the world of text-based bag charms: acrylic tags, embroidered patches and printed slogans that hang from backpacks and totes like miniature protest signs. Unlike plush animals that rely on interpretation, these charms leave little to the imagination. They announce their owner’s mood, frustration or worldview in no uncertain terms.
One of the most popular categories is what might be called “direct expression.” The hottest phrases this author analyzed from a Taobao store with 100k sales in 2025 include:
- “I’m working on it. Stop rushing me.” (People use it with colleagues or superiors who keep adding to the existing pile of work)
- “Call the police if you want.” (Basically: “I have gone out of my way to do something, and if you are still not satisfied, then call the police”)
- “What are you barking at?” (This is a direct translation from Chinese, basically comparing the other side to… a dog)
- “Warning: I’m going crazy.” (Final warning for people who don’t know their boundaries)
- “Looking alive, but actually dead inside.” (This refers to people who are physically healthy but mentally giving up)
“Don’t forget to pack your attitude before leaving home” is a caption often spotted under bag charm posts such as this one
Sarcastic and self-deprecating charms are also everywhere. Two examples:
- “Self-discipline? I leave work on time.” (Most people using this one are not able to leave work on time.)
- “Oh wow, the Pacific Police.” (Targeted at people who think they can boss others around.)
And different people, be it users or not, have different opinions about these text-bag charms.
“I wouldn’t go that far, getting text charms, even if I have to admit some of the phrases are well-put and I feel the same way,” Lu said. “I prefer my toys. Toys leave you space for interpretation.”
“I love that one,” a 22-year-old surnamed Zhao, a history-related researcher, told us, referring to the “I’m working on it. Stop rushing me” charm. “I hang it from my work bag. It’s like a reminder to myself and a message to anyone who’s judging me for not being productive 24/7. Some people think I’m joking, while others are too busy with their work to judge me.”
The demand for text-based charms has also created a new niche for small businesses and independent designers.
“We started making them about a year ago,” said Xiao Yu (pseudonym), who runs a Taobao store specializing in quirky accessories. “At first, it was just a few designs. Now we have over 50. Our bestsellers are the sarcastic ones—anything that makes fun of work culture or social pressure.”
Xiao Yu’s customers range from teenagers to office workers in their 30s. “Some buy them for themselves. Others buy them as gifts—sometimes as a joke, sometimes as a way to say ‘I see you, I get you.'”
Prices range from a few to tens of yuan (basically up to 15-ish U.S. bucks), depending on the color and size of the characters, the material and complexity. “The acrylic ones are more expensive because they’re durable,” Xiao Yu explained. “But the embroidered ones have a handmade feel that people love.”
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But Why Words?
For psychologists, the trend reflects a deeper need for validation and boundary-setting.
“Text-based accessories allow young people to express emotions they might otherwise suppress,” a Beijing-based clinical psychologist surnamed Liu told us. “In environments that often prioritize too much on emotion stability, hard work and dignity, these charms offer a safe outlet. They say what the owner may not feel comfortable saying out loud.”
“These texts are popular among college students. I used to think of them as catching up with the trend and not meaning anything by heart, but I have started to look at this problem in a serious way.” An administrative tutor at a college with a Ph.D in Psychology by the last name of Zhou shared with us. “One thing I’m certain about is that students who wear these text charms are experiencing some sort of pressure, and my job is to understand and help them with it. Everything matters when it comes to students’ mental health.”
“I’m not planning on talking to them in private. Students can be unhappy when they receive interference from teachers like me. I plan to organize relaxing activities where they can feel free to share their problems.”
They’re not just bagging a charm.
They’re packing a little emotional insurance.
FEATURED IMAGE: COLLAGE OF REDNOTE BAG CHARMS POSTS
Contact Layla Zhang at yz7048@nyu.edu
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Perpetually in pursuit of the greater good that is “China Fashion”, van Paridon set up The China Temper to help promote the dynamite dynamic fashion scene sprouting within Beijing, Shanghai, and China overall. Catering to anybody and everybody who reads English and/or Chinese, Temper covers all the basics and bases. From China's street style scenery to its budding photographers, internationally renowned designers, and underground quirks plus phenomena: We present one hot-hip-happening current collective weaving The New "Made in China" tag.
The term “Made in China” is undergoing the ultimate 21st Century makeover. Escorted by the increasingly strong influence of a new thinking among China’s younger generations, regarding individuality and the expression thereof, the fashion scene in the Middle Kingdom is exploding. And stretches far beyond what meets the eye. It’s appliqué, one might say.