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In the past when mature individuals who collected plush animals were relatively uncommon, weird even. That’s shifted recently: the growing trend of toys such as Squishmallows and Jellycat Amuseables has been connected with the burgeoning “grown-up play” market, which represented nearly one-third of toy sales last year. Generally, plush friends are objects people place in their rooms, on their beds or on show ledges. But that’s changing too – plush toy keyrings for example Labubus are now ubiquitous. And some “Disney adults” (self-professed adult Disney fans who might, illustration, go to the amusement centers without accompanying children) have advanced even more: attaching toys not just to their purses, but to their own shoulders.

“Shoulder pals” (alternatively termed “shoulder friends”) are small toys made in the image of Disney icons. They have magnetic bases and come with a flat metal plate meant to be placed beneath your top, so the toy perches on your collarbone area. After the initial release, infant Groot from Guardians of the Galaxy, was launched in 2018, these items have become a common accessory at the Disney parks. There are numerous Reddit discussions and TikTok videos about how to track down the newest releases (certain ones available at the Disney store, but others are only accessible at particular locations within the parks). It’s said that soon 45 authentic Disney shoulder pals for sale by the conclusion of the coming year, with characters including Peter Pan’s Tinker Bell to Anxiety from Inside Out 2. Plus there are the many, many imitations found on the internet, as well as those sold by shops, or the custom creations that some artistic TikTok users have been producing.

Initial 24 hours

Stitch and the Raven are the earliest to show up, and are more adorable and plush than I was imagining. Although it seems silly to “display” a toy, there is something very enjoyable about the way that Stitch in particular sits flat on my shoulder – the Raven is more difficult to stabilize, being made heavier by an inside energy cell that produces a cawing sound and makes its eyes light up. It lacks a power button – to the amusement, I’m sure, of anyone who has bought this toy for a child – but the sound effects do end after a round of three caws is done, if it is left utterly undisturbed. I place it on the window ledge where it a bit eerily keeps an eye on me – but does at least quiet down. Stitch, in the meantime, rests cheerfully on the shoulder of my wife – Lilo and Stitch was a early years preferred of hers, and she is immediately charmed by him (even if not, she stresses, enough to venture out with him on).

Day two

After getting used to my new plush companions in the comfort of my home, it is time to take them out and about. Opening place: the food shop. Not a soul notices as I walk to my local store – has nobody noticed I have a vibrant blue creature clipped on me? My first encounter is with the shop security guard, whose face splits into a massive grin as soon as he sees me. “What’s with Stitch on you?” he asks. I describe about the magnet. “Really neat!” he replies. I get another compliment as I leave the store – from a shopper, who, like the security guard, is a young man. “Lilo & Stitch!” he exclaims. “So cool.”

Temporarily, I actually feel a slightly cool. “That’s just since people love Stitch as a figure,” my wife says, dampening my excitement. If I had been wearing the Raven rather than Stitch, she says, people would just think: “you’re eccentric with a crow.”

Third day

The following morning, I decide to try the magnet’s boundaries and attempt a sprint with a shoulder pal companion. It’s hopeless. Anything more than the gentlest of jogs and the toy flies off – unfortunate Stitch has to be retrieved of a number of puddles, and comes close to a plunge in the canal. Plus, I get a lot of gazes.

My shoulder pals fare much better in the office – truthfully, more unusual sights have been witnessed on the news section – where they seem to cheer people up. My teammates have enjoyment trying them on; the Raven (who is commonly confused as a crow) is a particular hit. But when I step outside for a coffee, I find that the bird also has the tendency to give people a fright: “Oh my god, I thought that was real!” shouts the person behind me in the cafe queue, after the Raven’s caw makes her jump.

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 nonchalant and unthreatening as possible, but still people give me a broad distance – only a doughnut seller (again, a youth!) responds well, and asks to try one on.

Getting together with pals for lunch, I am apprehensive about taking the toys into a restaurant setting, but I had no reason to fret. If the waiters notice, they don’t seem to mind, despite the Raven cawing throughout the meal. One of my friends brings along someone I was unfamiliar with, which is awkward – it’s hard to seem like a friendly, average human when you are introduced as the girl with a striped feline on her shoulder – but my new acquaintance seems to see the funny side. One friend, who works mostly in China, thinks the popularity of these toys makes sense, given the fame of Asian toys and accessories – shoulder pals recall China’s past plant-themed accessories.

Fourth day

The green chameleon has finally been delivered, and I try to display it for most of the day. Though it’s luminous green, it doesn’t draw many looks, thanks to being partially obscured by my hair. “I believed it was part of your bag,” one colleague says. Mid-afternoon, I end up taking it off – it feels uncomfortable, and seems to be itchier 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 additional companion to notice. She comes and heads to the bar without noticing – it’s not until she returns with her drink she asks: “What’s with all the shit on their shoulders?” Once we’ve had a round and she’s wearing one too.

Fifth day

After days wearing the toys around people who have never seen them before, it’s time to meet up with a bona fide Disney fan. I head to a town in Essex, to the home of 39-year-old Katherine Potten (AKA @happilykatherine) who posts about Disney’s merchandise and resorts to her 92.4K TikTok subscribers.

Potten right away spots my Pascal toy as “an imitation” when I show her my collection. That explains why it’s so itchy. She shows me her softer, smaller-eyed Pascal to show the variation – all of her multiple shoulder pals are the genuine articles. She bought the majority from the theme parks – clips in which she “hunts” for the {latest release|newest