There was a time when mature individuals who owned plush animals were fairly rare, eccentric even. All that has changed: the growing trend of figurines like Squishmallows and Jellycat Amuseables has been connected with the expanding “grown-up play” market, which represented almost 30% of plaything purchases the previous year. On the whole, cuddly toys are items people display indoors, on their beds or on display shelves. Yet now it’s shifting – soft accessory charms such as Labubus are now ubiquitous. A few “Disney adults” (self-professed mature Disney aficionados who might, for example, go to the entertainment venues without accompanying children) have advanced even more: fixing toys not just to their bags, but to their persons.
“Shoulder pals” (variously known as “shoulder companions”) are miniature characters made in the image of Disney characters. They have attractive undersides and come with a flat metal plate meant to be placed under your shirt, so the toy sits on your shoulder. After the initial release, baby Groot from Guardians of the Galaxy, was introduced in 2018, these accessories have become a common adornment at the Disney theme parks. There are numerous Reddit discussions and TikTok clips about how to track down the latest ones (a few distributed at the Disney store, but additional ones are only available at particular locations within the parks). There will apparently be 45 official Disney shoulder pals on offer by the end of next year, with figures ranging from Peter Pan’s Tinker Bell to Anxiety from Inside Out 2. That’s not to mention the many, many replicas found on the internet, as well as those sold by stores, or the custom creations that some artistic TikTok users have been making.
First day
The blue alien and the bird are the earliest to show up, and are sweeter and more cuddly than I was expecting. Even if it appears silly to “display” a toy, there is something very satisfying about the way that Stitch particularly perches evenly on my shoulder – the Raven is harder to position, being pulled downward by an built-in power source that produces a cawing sound and makes its eyes light up. You can’t turn it off – to the joy, I’m sure, of anyone who has bought this toy for a child – but the noises do cease after a round of three caws is done, if it is left utterly undisturbed. I place it on the window ledge where it a bit eerily watches over me – but does at least quiet down. Stitch, meanwhile, rests cheerfully on the shoulder of my wife – Lilo and Stitch was a youthful beloved of hers, and she is instantly taken with him (even if not, she emphasizes, enough to leave the house with him on).
Next 24 hours
Having acclimatised to my new plush companions in the safety of my home, it is time to bring them along and about. First stop: the grocery store. No one reacts as I walk to my local market – has no one noticed I have a vivid extraterrestrial attached to me? My first interaction is with the shop safety officer, whose face forms a massive grin as soon as he sees me. “How did you get Stitch on you?” he asks. I clarify about the magnet. “Really neat!” he answers. I get another compliment as I leave the store – from a shopper, who, like the security guard, is a young man. “Lilo & Stitch!” he shouts. “That’s amazing.”
Temporarily, I actually feel a somewhat cool. “It’s merely due to people love Stitch as a character,” 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.”
Following 24 hours
Next day, I decide to test the magnet’s boundaries and attempt a sprint with a shoulder pal mascot. It’s hopeless. Beyond the slowest pace and the toy launches away – poor Stitch has to be pulled of a several puddles, and comes close to a dip in the canal. Also, I get a lot of stares.
The plush friends fare much better in the office – truthfully, stranger things have been seen on the news section – where they seem to put everyone in a good mood. My teammates have enjoyment trying them on; the Raven (who is frequently misidentified as a crow) is a major favorite. But when I step outside for a coffee, I find that the bird also has the ability to startle individuals: “Goodness, I thought that was real!” exclaims 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 relaxed and friendly as possible, but still people give me a wide berth – only a pastry vendor (once again, a young man!) answers favorably, and asks to try one on.
Meeting friends for lunch, I am nervous about taking the toys into a eating establishment, but I had no reason to fret. If the waiters notice, they don’t seem to mind, despite the Raven cawing throughout the meal. One of my friends brings along someone I was unfamiliar with, which is embarrassing – it’s hard to seem like a nice, normal person when you are introduced as the girl with a stripy cat on her shoulder – but my new friend seems to appreciate the humor. One friend, who works mostly in China, thinks the trend of these toys makes sense, given the fame of south-east Asian toys and accessories – shoulder pals evoke China’s previous greenery fashion.
Subsequent 24 hours
The green chameleon has eventually come, and I try to keep it on for most of the day. Though it’s bright green, it doesn’t gain significant notice, thanks to being partly covered by my hair. “I thought it was part of your bag,” one associate says. In the afternoon, I end up taking it off – it feels irritating, and seems to be more scratchy than the others.
After work, I head to the pub. The three of us who get there first decide to each wear one of the pals and see how long it takes our remaining pal 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 things on their shoulders?” Once we’ve had a round 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 a town in Essex, to the home of 39-year-old Katherine Potten (AKA @happilykatherine) who posts about Disney’s merchandise and parks to her 92,400 TikTok viewers.
Potten immediately recognizes my Pascal toy as “an imitation” when I show her my collection. That explains 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 genuine articles. She bought most of them from the theme parks – content in which she “searches” for the {latest release|newest