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There was a time when grown-ups who collected stuffed toys were relatively uncommon, odd perhaps. All that has changed: the increased fame of playthings including Squishmallows and Jellycat Amuseables has been associated with the growing “adult-toy” industry, which accounted for nearly one-third of gaming item revenues the previous year. Typically, cuddly toys are something people keep at home, atop their mattresses or in cabinets. But that’s changing too – stuffed figurine clips such as Labubus are now ubiquitous. Certain “theme park fans” (self-professed grown up Disney devotees who might, instance, go to the theme parks without taking children) have taken it further: placing toys not just to their backpacks, but to themselves.

“Shoulder plushies” (alternatively termed “shoulder toys”) are small toys made in the form of Disney personas. They have metal-adhering bottoms and come with a flat metal plate intended for placed under your shirt, so the toy perches on your upper arm. Since the first one, tiny Groot from Guardians of the Galaxy, was introduced in 2018, these items have become a popular adornment at the Disney resorts. There are multiple Reddit posts and TikTok videos about how to locate the newest releases (a few distributed at the Disney store, but others are only accessible at particular locations within the parks). It’s said that soon 45 licensed Disney shoulder pals available by the conclusion of the coming year, with characters including Peter Pan’s Tinker Bell to Anxiety from Inside Out 2. Additionally the numerous imitations offered digitally, as well as those sold by retail chains, or the homemade versions that some creative TikTok users have been crafting.

First day

The blue alien and the bird are the earliest to show up, and are cuter and softer than I was imagining. Although it seems absurd to “wear” a toy, there is something very satisfying about the way that Stitch particularly rests neatly on my shoulder – the Raven is trickier to balance, being pulled downward by an built-in power source that produces a cawing sound and makes its eyes light up. You can’t turn it off – to the delight, I’m sure, of anyone who has purchased this toy for a child – but the audio features do cease after a cycle of three caws is finished, if it is left totally motionless. I place it on the window ledge where it somewhat creepily keeps an eye on me – but does at least stop making noise. Stitch, in the meantime, rests cheerfully on the shoulder of my wife – Lilo and Stitch was a childhood favourite of hers, and she is right away fond of him (even if not, she insists, enough to go outside with him on).

Second day

Having acclimatised to my new cuddly pals in the safety of my home, it is time to take them out and about. Opening place: the supermarket. No one reacts as I walk to my local store – has not anyone noticed I have a vibrant blue creature affixed to my shoulder? My first exchange is with the shop safety officer, whose face forms a huge smile as soon as he sees me. “How did you get Stitch on you?” he asks. I clarify about the magnet. “Awesome!” he replies. I get another praise as I leave the store – from a shopper, who, like the security guard, is a guy. “Lilo & Stitch!” he exclaims. “That’s sick.”

For a moment, I actually feel a tiny bit cool. “That’s just since people love Stitch as a figure,” my wife says, diminishing my enthusiasm. If I had been wearing the Raven rather than Stitch, she says, people would just think: “you’re odd with a crow.”

Following 24 hours

Next day, I decide to try the magnet’s limits and attempt a sprint with a shoulder pal buddy. It doesn’t work. Beyond the lightest running and the toy goes flying – hapless blue guy has to be retrieved of a multiple puddles, and almost has a dip in the canal. Additionally, I get a lot of gazes.

My shoulder pals perform improved in the office – truthfully, odder occurrences have been seen on the features desk – where they seem to put everyone in a good mood. My coworkers have enjoyment trying them on; the Raven (who is frequently misidentified as a crow) is a particular hit. But when I step outside for a coffee, I find that the bird also has the capacity to give people a fright: “Wow, I thought that was real!” shouts the person behind me in the cafe queue, after the Raven’s caw makes her startle.

The response continues to be frosty as I walk about King’s Cross, this time with a shoulder pal on either side. I try to look as casual and harmless as possible, but still people give me a ample room – only a doughnut seller (once again, a youth!) answers favorably, and asks to try one on.

Getting together with pals for lunch, I am concerned about taking the toys into a restaurant setting, but I had no reason to fret. If the staff notice, they don’t seem to mind, despite the Raven calling all through the meal. One of my friends brings along someone I haven’t met before, which is humbling – it’s hard to appear as a pleasant, regular individual when you are presented as the girl with a striped feline on her shoulder – but my new contact seems to see the funny side. One friend, who works mostly in China, thinks the popularity of these toys makes sense, given the popularity of Eastern toys and accessories – shoulder pals evoke China’s previous greenery fashion.

Day four

The green chameleon has eventually come, and I try to display it for most of the day. Though it’s bright green, it doesn’t attract much attention, thanks to being partly covered by my hair. “I assumed it was part of your bag,” one coworker says. Mid-afternoon, I end up removing it – it feels awkward, and seems to be more irritating than the others.

Once finished working, I head to the pub. The group who get there first decide to each wear one of the pals and see how long it takes our other friend to notice. She comes and heads to the bar without realising – it’s not until she returns with her drink she asks: “What’s with all the things on their shoulders?” A few drinks later and she’s wearing one too.

Day five

Following a period wearing the toys around people who have never seen them before, it’s time to connect with a genuine Disney fan. I head to a local area, to the home of 39-year-old Katherine Potten (AKA @happilykatherine) who discusses Disney’s products and theme parks to her 92.4K TikTok followers.

Potten instantly identifies my Pascal toy as “a fake” when I show her my collection. That clarifies why it’s so itchy. She shows me her gentler, diminutive-eyed Pascal to demonstrate the difference – all of her multiple shoulder pals are the genuine articles. She bought the bulk from the theme parks – content in which she “searches” for the {latest release|newest