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Once upon a time when mature individuals who collected stuffed toys were somewhat unusual, weird even. That’s shifted recently: the increased fame of figurines such as Squishmallows and Jellycat Amuseables has been connected with the burgeoning “grown-up play” sector, which accounted for nearly one-third of toy sales last year. On the whole, cuddly toys are objects people place in their rooms, resting on pillows or on display shelves. But that’s changing too – stuffed figurine clips for example Labubus are now ubiquitous. And some “Disney adults” (declared adult Disney fans who might, for example, go to the amusement centers without taking children) have advanced even more: placing toys not just to their backpacks, but to their persons.

“Shoulder sitters” (variously known as “shoulder toys”) are small toys made in the form of Disney personas. They have metal-adhering bottoms and come with a flat metal plate meant to be placed below your clothing, so the toy sits 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 adornment at the Disney resorts. There are multiple Reddit posts and TikTok content about how to find the recent models (certain ones available at the Disney store, but others are only obtainable at particular locations within the parks). Reportedly there will be 45 official Disney shoulder pals for sale by the close of the following year, with personalities ranging from Peter Pan’s Tinker Bell to Anxiety from Inside Out 2. Additionally the countless imitations available online, as well as those sold by shops, or the DIY pals that some inventive TikTok users have been producing.

Initial 24 hours

Lilo’s friend and the haunted raven are the earliest to show up, and are more adorable and plush than I was anticipating. Though it feels absurd to “wear” a toy, there is something very satisfying about the way that Stitch in particular sits flat on my shoulder – the Raven is harder to position, being pulled downward by an inside energy cell that produces a cawing sound and makes its eyes glow. It lacks a power button – to the amusement, I’m sure, of anyone who has acquired this toy for a child – but the sound effects do end after a sequence of three caws is done, if it is left completely still. I put it on the window ledge where it a bit eerily keeps an eye on me – but does at least shut up. 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 instantly taken with him (although not, she stresses, enough to leave the house with him on).

Next 24 hours

After getting used to my new soft toy friends in the comfort of my home, it is time to carry them outside and about. Initial destination: the supermarket. Nobody bats an eyelid as I walk to my local shop – has nobody noticed I have a vivid extraterrestrial clipped on me? My first exchange is with the shop guard, whose face forms a massive grin as soon as he sees me. “How do you have Stitch on you?” he asks. I describe about the magnet. “Really neat!” he responds. I get another positive comment as I leave the store – from a shopper, who, like the security guard, is a young man. “Lilo & Stitch!” he cries out. “So cool.”

Briefly, 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.”

Day three

Next day, I decide to check the magnet’s boundaries and attempt a run with a shoulder pal buddy. It’s hopeless. Exceeding the slowest pace and the toy goes flying – poor Stitch has to be retrieved of a multiple puddles, and comes close to a dip in the canal. Additionally, I get a lot of gazes.

My shoulder pals do considerably better in the office – truthfully, more unusual sights have been seen on the features desk – where they seem to put everyone in a good mood. My coworkers have fun trying them on; the Raven (who is frequently misidentified as a crow) is a particular hit. But when I go out for a coffee, I find that the bird also has the tendency to startle individuals: “Wow, I thought that was real!” says the person behind me in the cafe queue, after the Raven’s caw makes her startle.

The feedback continues to be frosty as I walk about King’s Cross, this time with a shoulder pal on both shoulders. I try to look as casual and harmless as possible, but still people give me a ample room – only a doughnut seller (again, a young man!) reacts positively, and asks to try one on.

Joining companions for lunch, I am apprehensive about taking the toys into a restaurant setting, but I had no reason to fret. If the staff notice, they don’t seem to object, despite the Raven squawking during the meal. One of my friends brings along someone I haven’t met before, which is awkward – it’s hard to appear as a nice, normal person 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 trend of these toys seems reasonable, given the appeal of Asian toys and accessories – shoulder pals recall China’s 2015 sprout hair clip trend.

Day four

Pascal the lizard has eventually come, and I try to keep it on for most of the day. Though it’s bright green, it doesn’t draw many looks, thanks to being somewhat hidden by my hair. “I believed it was part of your bag,” one associate says. Later that day, I end up removing it – it feels awkward, and seems to be more scratchy than the others.

After work, 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 other friend to notice. She comes and heads to the bar without realising – it’s not until she returns with her drink she asks: “Why does everyone have things on their shoulders?” After some beverages 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 true 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 theme parks to her 92.4K TikTok followers.

Potten right away spots my Pascal toy as “not authentic” when I show her my collection. That accounts for why it’s so itchy. She shows me her more plush, tinier-eyed Pascal to highlight the distinction – all of her 23 shoulder pals are the real deal. She bought most of them from the theme parks – content in which she “looks” for the {latest release|newest