Recently, I have developed a conflicted relationship with Lego. I love it. There’s so much Lego in our apartment that you can remove the brick and mortar, and I would still have a standing home.
But lately, I’m getting fed up with how hard the Danish company is pushing it. Pushing the absurd licensing deals. Pushing nostalgia. Pushing the gigantic sets that adults want, kids dream of, but so many parents can’t afford.
And sure. I can’t really blame Lego for wanting to make money. It’s a private company, and they are in the business of, you know, selling stuff. But by pushing so hard in every department, Lego risks brand exhaustion. At least, it’s exhausting the brick out of me.
Lego is one of the greatest, most beloved brands in the world. One that resonates with adults and kids at many levels. Emotionally, millions have that memory that makes us teary. I think back on recent memories of crafting Lego worlds with my son, as well as distant memories, like assembling spaceships with my father and siblings.
Rationally, there’s a definitive appeal in the engineering of building complex designs from very simple pieces. Culturally, Lego is iconic on its own and often becomes entangled with other iconic brands, from Star Wars to Harry Potter. Sensorially, the touch, the clickity-clack-click of the building experience itself brings calm and anchors you to the present, making you forget problems and worries.
Clearly, Lego has many paths to our pocketbooks.
It’s just that now, it feels like the worldwide Lego craze is on overdrive, and it’s becoming way too much.
There are many things that bother me. The company’s increasing reliance on licensed IP themes is one of them. While some licensed sets from Star Wars and Ghostbusters are great because of their clever design and engineering, many others feel like cash grabs. Like the recent Marvel logo set, a monument to shilling that lacks both the creativity and playability that these toys always strived for.
Others feel out of place, like their deal with FIFA, a shady sports organization plagued with corruption scandals and wrongdoings. That cannot be further away from the Danish company’s alleged innocent spirit and its learning-through-play philosophy. For a company that bans miniature replicas of guns from its sets, it’s appalling to see it associated with brutal dictatorial regimes, even if it is only by proxy. Plus, Lego’s World Cup trophy looks as hideous as Donald Trump’s FIFA Peace Prize.
Enough already
The 1×1 plate that spilled my mental Lego cup was the ad that introduced its latest toy line: Pokémon. It is such a smarmy play for millennials that—while I love both Pokémon and Lego—I couldn’t help but have an instant visceral hate for it.
That licensing deal also highlighted another huge problem, which is the proliferation of expensive sets. The company traditionally aims big multi-thousand-piece sets at adults. But it’s one thing to sell adults the Taj Mahal, the Titanic, or the Roman Colosseum, and it’s another to put out a $1,000 Death Star or this $650 Venusaur, Charizard, and Blastoise set. Both sold out in a few hours. Sure, adults will buy those, but do you really expect kids to look at those toys and not want them?
Lego has always sold the occasional pricey set—especially in the Star Wars line—but the size (and price) increase is nuts. Data from the popular Lego set tracker Brickset shows that, in the entire pre‑2000 era, there were only 28 sets with over 1,000 pieces. By mid‑2025, there were already 80 such sets released in six months alone, showing a huge increase in the annual volume of big sets.
The same data shows that there has been a big price increase. In 2016, the average Lego set cost about $40. From 2024 to 2026, that average had grown to around $70. That’s about a 75% price increase over the last decade, caused by the increase of licensed IP sets (which add an extra margin to pay the intellectual property owners around 20%).
Six years ago, Lego licensing worked from the “physical world” to the “brick world.” External partners were primarily car manufacturers or entertainment studios like Disney and Warner Bros., which resulted in some fun toys.
For decades, however, Lego was fiercely protective of its brand, rarely allowing it on products it didn’t manufacture. Starting in 2020, this strategy flipped. Lego began aggressively pursuing “lifestyle partnerships” to make the brand a status symbol for adults in fashion and home decor rather than just a toy for kids. From that point on, Lego has been launching collaborations with Adidas, Levi’s, Ikea, Nike, Target (with products for pets too!), Moleskine, Concept One, Hype, and even Pottery Barn. I’m sure I’m missing some.
I find the latest collab with Crocs to be particularly offensive, and the news drove me over the edge when it popped up in my social media feeds in late January. The Lego Brick Clog features a molded brick design on the midsole. There’s nothing else to it. It just looks dumb. Given its shape and giant size, it could serve as a bento box, one can only imagine.
It’s possible this is a “me” problem. Maybe others don’t notice or don’t care. But there’s a danger of being so overexposed, everywhere. Maybe you need to slow it down a bit, Lego. Not everything has to be AWESOME all the bloody time.
