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In the past when mature individuals who owned cuddly creatures were relatively uncommon, odd perhaps. That’s shifted recently: the rise in popularity of figurines such as Squishmallows and Jellycat Amuseables has been associated with the burgeoning “adult-toy” sector, which made up almost 30% of gaming item revenues in recent times. Typically, soft companions are objects people display indoors, atop their mattresses or in cabinets. But that’s changing too – plush toy keyrings for example Labubus are now ubiquitous. A few “theme park fans” (avowed grown up Disney devotees who might, illustration, go to the theme parks without accompanying children) have gone one step further: attaching toys not just to their purses, but to their own shoulders.

“Shoulder plushies” (alternatively termed “shoulder friends”) are miniature characters made in the form of Disney icons. They have magnetic bases and come with a thin metallic pad designed to be placed under your shirt, so the toy sits on your collarbone area. Since the first one, tiny Groot from Guardians of the Galaxy, was launched in 2018, these toys have become a popular adornment at the Disney parks. There are various Reddit discussions and TikTok videos about how to locate the newest releases (certain ones available at the Disney store, but others are only accessible at particular locations within the parks). There will apparently be 45 licensed Disney shoulder pals on offer by the conclusion of the coming year, with personalities including Peter Pan’s Tinker Bell to Anxiety from Inside Out 2. That’s not to mention the countless imitations offered digitally, as well as those sold by retail chains, or the custom creations that some inventive TikTok users have been making.

Initial 24 hours

The blue alien and the bird are the earliest to show up, and are more adorable and plush than I was imagining. Although it seems silly to “sport” a toy, there is something very pleasing about the way that Stitch particularly sits flat on my shoulder – the Raven is harder to position, being made heavier by an internal battery that emits a squawk and makes its eyes glow. There is no off switch – to the joy, I’m sure, of anyone who has purchased this toy for a child – but the sound effects do end after a sequence of three caws is complete, if it is left totally motionless. I put it on the window ledge where it slightly spookily keeps an eye on me – but does at least quiet down. Stitch, in the meantime, sits contentedly on the shoulder of my wife – Lilo and Stitch was a childhood favourite of hers, and she is instantly taken with him (even if not, she emphasizes, enough to venture out with him on).

Day two

Having acclimatised to my new cuddly pals in the comfort of my home, it is time to bring them along and about. First stop: the supermarket. Not a soul notices as I walk to my local store – has nobody noticed I have a vibrant blue creature attached to me? My first encounter is with the shop guard, whose face breaks into a massive grin as soon as he sees me. “What’s with Stitch on you?” he asks. I explain about the magnet. “Awesome!” he answers. I get another positive comment as I leave the store – from a patron, who, like the security guard, is a guy. “Lilo & Stitch!” he cries out. “That’s amazing.”

For a moment, I actually feel a tiny bit cool. “That’s just since people love Stitch as a figure,” my wife says, diminishing my enthusiasm. If I had been wearing the Raven rather than Stitch, she says, people would just think: “you’re the weirdo with a crow.”

Third day

Next day, I decide to test the magnet’s limits and attempt a jog with a shoulder pal companion. It’s hopeless. Exceeding the lightest running and the toy flies off – unfortunate Stitch has to be pulled of a multiple puddles, and comes close to a dip in the canal. Also, I get a lot of gazes.

These tiny figures perform improved in the office – honestly, stranger things have been seen on the editorial team – where they seem to cheer people up. My colleagues have amusement 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 ability 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 response continues to be cool as I stroll through King’s Cross, this time with a shoulder pal on both shoulders. I try to look as nonchalant and unthreatening as possible, but still people give me a broad distance – only a sweet treat hawker (another time, a guy!) responds well, and asks to try one on.

Meeting friends for lunch, I am nervous about taking the toys into a restaurant setting, but I needn’t have worried. 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 didn’t know, which is embarrassing – it’s hard to appear as a pleasant, regular individual when you are presented as the girl with a tabby creature on her shoulder – but my new contact seems to find it amusing. One friend, who works mostly in China, thinks the trend of these toys is logical, given the popularity of Eastern toys and accessories – shoulder pals remind her of China’s past plant-themed accessories.

Day four

The green chameleon has eventually come, and I try to keep it on for most of the day. Though it’s luminous green, it doesn’t gain significant notice, thanks to being partially obscured by my hair. “I believed it was part of your bag,” one colleague says. Mid-afternoon, I end up detaching it – it feels irritating, and seems to be itchier than the others.

Post-office, 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 arrives and heads to the bar without seeing – it’s not until she returns with her drink she asks: “What’s with all the things on their shoulders?” A few drinks later 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 connect with a true Disney fan. I head to Wickford, Essex, to the home of 39-year-old Katherine Potten (AKA @happilykatherine) who posts about Disney’s merchandise and theme parks to her 92.4K TikTok followers.

Potten instantly identifies my Pascal toy as “not authentic” when I show her my collection. That clarifies why it’s so itchy. She shows me her softer, smaller-eyed Pascal to demonstrate the difference – all of her twenty-three shoulder pals are the genuine articles. She bought most of them from the theme parks – clips in which she “searches” for the {latest release|newest