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There was a time when grown-ups who owned stuffed toys were somewhat unusual, odd perhaps. Things are different now: the rise in popularity of playthings such as Squishmallows and Jellycat Amuseables has been connected with the growing “adult-toy” industry, which accounted for nearly one-third of toy sales in recent times. Generally, plush friends are objects people keep at home, on their beds or on display shelves. Yet now it’s shifting – stuffed figurine clips like Labubus are now everywhere. And some “Disney enthusiasts” (avowed mature Disney aficionados who might, illustration, go to the entertainment venues without accompanying children) have advanced even more: placing toys not just to their bags, but to their own shoulders.

“Shoulder plushies” (also called “shoulder companions”) are miniature characters made in the likeness of Disney characters. They have magnetic bases and come with a flat metal plate meant to be placed beneath your top, so the toy sits on your shoulder. Since the first one, tiny Groot from Guardians of the Galaxy, was launched in 2018, these toys have become a common accessory at the Disney theme parks. There are numerous Reddit posts and TikTok content about how to locate the latest ones (certain ones available at the Disney store, but the rest are only obtainable at particular locations within the parks). There will apparently be 45 licensed Disney shoulder pals available by the end of next year, with figures 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 retail chains, or the DIY pals that some artistic TikTok users have been making.

First day

Stitch and the Raven are the earliest to show up, and are more adorable and plush than I was imagining. Although it seems ridiculous to “display” a toy, there is something very pleasing about the way that Stitch particularly perches evenly on my shoulder – the Raven is trickier to balance, being weighed down by an internal battery that produces a cawing sound and makes its eyes glow. You can’t turn it off – to the amusement, I’m sure, of anyone who has bought this toy for a child – but the noises do cease after a sequence of three caws is done, if it is left totally motionless. I put it on the window ledge where it slightly spookily observes me – but does at least stop making noise. Stitch, meanwhile, sits contentedly 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 insists, enough to venture out with him on).

Next 24 hours

Once accustomed to my new cuddly pals in the security of my home, it is time to carry them outside and about. First stop: the grocery store. Not a soul notices as I walk to my local store – has no one noticed I have a bright blue alien affixed to my shoulder? My first interaction is with the shop guard, whose face breaks into a massive grin as soon as he sees me. “How did you get Stitch on you?” he asks. I clarify about the magnet. “Awesome!” he answers. I get another compliment as I leave the store – from a customer, who, like the security guard, is a youth. “Lilo & Stitch!” he cries out. “That’s sick.”

Briefly, I actually feel a tiny bit cool. “It’s merely due to people love Stitch as a figure,” 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 eccentric with a crow.”

Day three

Next day, I decide to test the magnet’s boundaries and attempt a sprint with a shoulder pal mascot. It fails completely. Beyond the lightest running and the toy launches away – hapless blue guy has to be pulled of a number of puddles, and almost has a dip in the canal. Also, I get a lot of stares.

The plush friends perform improved in the office – truthfully, odder occurrences have been observed on the news section – where they seem to put everyone in a good mood. My colleagues have enjoyment trying them on; the Raven (who is frequently misidentified as a crow) is a big success. But when I go out for a coffee, I find that the bird also has the ability to scare folks: “Oh my god, I thought that was real!” says the person behind me in the cafe queue, after the Raven’s caw makes her jump.

The reception continues to be distant 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 broad distance – only a doughnut seller (another time, a young man!) reacts positively, and asks to try one on.

Joining companions for lunch, I am nervous about taking the toys into a dining environment, but I had no reason to fret. If the staff notice, they don’t seem to care, despite the Raven squawking during the meal. One of my friends brings along someone I haven’t met before, which is humbling – it’s hard to seem like a nice, normal person when you are introduced as the girl with a tabby creature on her shoulder – but my new acquaintance seems to see the funny side. One friend, who works mostly in China, thinks the trend of these toys is logical, given the appeal of south-east Asian toys and accessories – shoulder pals remind her of China’s previous greenery fashion.

Day four

Pascal the lizard has at last arrived, and I try to wear it for most of the day. Though it’s vivid green, it doesn’t attract much attention, thanks to being somewhat hidden by my hair. “I thought it was part of your bag,” one coworker says. Later that day, I end up taking it off – it feels irritating, and seems to be itchier 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 shows up 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

Subsequent to wearing the toys around people who have never seen them before, it’s time to visit a genuine Disney fan. I head to Wickford, Essex, to the home of 39-year-old Katherine Potten (AKA @happilykatherine) who discusses Disney’s products and resorts 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 softer, smaller-eyed Pascal to show the variation – all of her multiple shoulder pals are the real deal. She bought most of them from the theme parks – clips in which she “looks” for the {latest release|newest