There was a time when grown-ups who collected plush animals were somewhat unusual, odd perhaps. That’s shifted recently: the rise in popularity of toys such as Squishmallows and Jellycat Amuseables has been associated with the expanding “grown-up play” market, which accounted for almost 30% of plaything purchases the previous year. On the whole, plush friends are items people display indoors, atop their mattresses or on show ledges. But that’s changing too – stuffed figurine clips like Labubus are now everywhere. Certain “Disney adults” (self-professed mature Disney devotees who might, instance, go to the amusement centers without bringing children) have taken it further: attaching toys not just to their purses, but to their own shoulders.
“Shoulder sitters” (also called “shoulder friends”) are small toys made in the form of Disney personas. They have attractive undersides and come with a smooth steel disc designed to be placed beneath your top, so the toy perches on your shoulder. After the initial release, tiny Groot from Guardians of the Galaxy, was launched in 2018, these accessories have become a frequent add-on at the Disney resorts. There are multiple Reddit threads and TikTok videos about how to locate the recent models (some are sold at the Disney store, but others are only accessible at designated locations within the parks). There will apparently be 45 official Disney shoulder pals available by the end of next year, with personalities including Peter Pan’s Tinker Bell to Anxiety from Inside Out 2. Additionally the numerous replicas found on the internet, as well as those sold by stores, or the homemade versions that some creative TikTok users have been crafting.
First day
The blue alien and the bird are the first to arrive, and are sweeter and more cuddly than I was imagining. Although it seems silly to “sport” a toy, there is something very satisfying about the way that Stitch particularly sits flat on my shoulder – the Raven is more difficult to stabilize, being pulled downward by an inside energy cell that creates a birdcall and makes its eyes glow. 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 cease after a round of three caws is finished, if it is left completely still. I put it on the window ledge where it somewhat creepily watches over me – but does at least quiet down. Stitch, meanwhile, sits contentedly 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 go outside with him on).
Next 24 hours
Once accustomed to my new cuddly pals in the security of my home, it is time to take them out and about. First stop: the food shop. Nobody bats an eyelid as I walk to my local market – has not anyone noticed I have a bright blue alien clipped on me? My first encounter is with the shop safety officer, whose face breaks into a huge smile as soon as he sees me. “How do you have Stitch on you?” he asks. I explain about the magnet. “Really neat!” he replies. I get another compliment as I leave the store – from a customer, who, like the security guard, is a youth. “Lilo & Stitch!” he exclaims. “That’s sick.”
Briefly, I actually feel a somewhat cool. “That’s just since people love Stitch as a persona,” my wife says, dampening 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 try the magnet’s capabilities and attempt a jog with a shoulder pal companion. It’s hopeless. Beyond the gentlest of jogs and the toy launches away – unfortunate Stitch has to be fished out of a several puddles, and comes close to a plunge in the canal. Also, I get a lot of gazes.
My shoulder pals fare much better in the office – admittedly, odder occurrences have been seen on the editorial team – 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 capacity to give people a fright: “Goodness, I thought that was real!” says the person behind me in the cafe queue, after the Raven’s caw makes her startle.
The reception continues to be cool as I wander around King’s Cross, this time with a shoulder pal on each arm. I try to look as nonchalant and unthreatening as possible, but still people give me a ample room – only a doughnut seller (once again, a youth!) responds well, and asks to try one on.
Joining companions for lunch, I am concerned about taking the toys into a dining environment, but I had no reason to fret. If the staff notice, they don’t seem to mind, despite the Raven cawing throughout the meal. One of my friends brings along someone I haven’t met before, which is awkward – it’s hard to come across as a nice, normal person when you are described as the girl with a stripy cat on her shoulder – but my new contact seems to appreciate the humor. One friend, who works mostly in China, thinks the trend of these toys seems reasonable, given the fame of Asian toys and accessories – shoulder pals recall China’s 2015 sprout hair clip trend.
Day four
Pascal the lizard has finally been delivered, and I try to wear it for most of the day. Though it’s luminous green, it doesn’t draw many looks, thanks to being somewhat hidden by my hair. “I believed it was part of your bag,” one coworker says. In the afternoon, I end up removing it – it feels uncomfortable, and seems to be itchier than the others.
Post-office, 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 arrives and heads to the bar without realising – it’s not until she returns with her drink she asks: “Why’s everyone got stuff on their shoulders?” A few drinks later and she’s wearing one too.
Next 24 hours
After days wearing the toys around people who have never seen them before, it’s time to connect with a bona fide Disney fan. I head to Wickford, Essex, to the home of 39-year-old Katherine Potten (AKA @happilykatherine) who discusses Disney’s items and resorts to her over 92 thousand TikTok subscribers.
Potten right away spots my Pascal toy as “an imitation” when I show her my collection. That clarifies why it’s so itchy. She shows me her gentler, diminutive-eyed Pascal to show the variation – all of her twenty-three shoulder pals are the authentic items. She bought the majority from the theme parks – clips in which she “hunts” for the {latest release|newest