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There was a time when adults who collected cuddly creatures were fairly rare, weird even. That’s shifted recently: the growing trend of playthings including Squishmallows and Jellycat Amuseables has been associated with the growing “adult-toy” market, which accounted for nearly one-third of toy sales last year. On the whole, cuddly toys are items people display indoors, on their beds or in cabinets. But that’s changing too – soft accessory charms for example Labubus are now everywhere. Certain “theme park fans” (avowed grown up Disney fans who might, illustration, go to the amusement centers without taking children) have gone one step further: placing toys not just to their backpacks, but to themselves.

“Shoulder sitters” (also called “shoulder companions”) are tiny figurines made in the image of Disney personas. They have attractive undersides and come with a thin metallic pad intended for placed beneath your top, so the toy perches on your shoulder. From the debut model, baby Groot from Guardians of the Galaxy, was brought out in 2018, these items have become a common adornment at the Disney resorts. There are multiple Reddit posts and TikTok content about how to track down the latest ones (a few distributed at the Disney store, but others are only available at specific locations within the parks). There will apparently be 45 licensed Disney shoulder pals on offer by the close of the following year, with characters ranging from Peter Pan’s Tinker Bell to Anxiety from Inside Out 2. Additionally the numerous replicas offered digitally, as well as those sold by shops, or the DIY pals that some artistic TikTok users have been producing.

Initial 24 hours

The blue alien and the bird are the earliest to show up, and are more adorable and plush than I was expecting. Though it feels absurd to “wear” a toy, there is something very pleasing about the way that Stitch especially perches evenly on my shoulder – the Raven is trickier to balance, being made heavier by an built-in power source that produces a cawing sound and makes its eyes glow. It lacks a power button – to the joy, I’m sure, of anyone who has acquired this toy for a child – but the audio features do stop after a round of three caws is done, 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, meanwhile, rests cheerfully on the shoulder of my wife – Lilo and Stitch was a youthful beloved of hers, and she is immediately charmed by him (even if not, she stresses, enough to leave the house with him on).

Second day

Once accustomed to my new cuddly pals in the safety of my home, it is time to bring them along and about. First stop: the food shop. Not a soul notices as I walk to my local shop – has not anyone noticed I have a vibrant blue creature clipped on me? My first exchange is with the shop safety officer, whose face breaks into a huge smile as soon as he sees me. “What’s with Stitch on you?” he asks. I explain about the magnet. “So cool!” he answers. I get another positive comment as I leave the store – from a customer, who, like the security guard, is a young man. “Lilo & Stitch!” he cries out. “That’s amazing.”

Temporarily, I actually feel a slightly cool. “It’s merely due to people love Stitch as a figure,” my wife says, diminishing my high spirits. If I had been wearing the Raven rather than Stitch, she says, people would just think: “you’re odd with a crow.”

Third day

Subsequent sunrise, I decide to check the magnet’s limits and attempt a jog with a shoulder pal buddy. It’s hopeless. Beyond the lightest running and the toy launches away – unfortunate Stitch has to be pulled of a multiple puddles, and narrowly misses a plunge in the canal. Plus, I get a lot of gazes.

These tiny figures fare much better in the office – admittedly, more unusual sights have been observed on the news section – where they seem to brighten the atmosphere. My teammates have amusement trying them on; the Raven (who is frequently misidentified as a crow) is a major favorite. But when I go out for a coffee, I find that the bird also has the ability to scare folks: “Goodness, 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 stroll through 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 wide berth – only a pastry vendor (another time, a young man!) responds well, and asks to try one on.

Joining companions for lunch, I am nervous 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 calling all through the meal. One of my friends brings along someone I didn’t know, which is embarrassing – it’s hard to seem like a pleasant, regular individual when you are presented as the girl with a tabby creature 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 seems reasonable, given the popularity of south-east Asian toys and accessories – shoulder pals recall China’s 2015 sprout hair clip trend.

Subsequent 24 hours

Rapunzel’s tiny friend has at last arrived, and I try to wear it for most of the day. Though it’s vivid 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. In the afternoon, I end up detaching it – it feels awkward, and seems to be itchier than the others.

Once finished working, I head to the pub. The trio who get there first decide to each wear one of the pals and see how long it takes our additional companion to notice. She shows up and heads to the bar without seeing – it’s not until she returns with her drink she asks: “Why’s everyone got things on their shoulders?” Once we’ve had a round and she’s wearing one too.

Day five

After days wearing the toys around people who have never seen them before, it’s time to visit a bona fide Disney fan. I head to a town in Essex, to the home of 39-year-old Katherine Potten (AKA @happilykatherine) who shares content on Disney’s items and parks to her 92.4K TikTok subscribers.

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