There was a time when adults who owned collections of stuffed toys were relatively uncommon, weird even. All that has changed recently: the rise in popularity of toys such as Squishmallows and Jellycat Amuseables has been linked to the growing “kidult” market (adults buying toys for themselves) which accounted for almost 30% of toy sales last year. On the whole, cuddly toys are something people keep at home, on their beds or on display shelves. But that’s changing too – plush toy keyrings such as Labubus are now everywhere. And some “Disney adults” (self-professed grown up Disney fans who might, for example, go to the theme parks without taking children with them) have gone one step further: attaching toys not just to their bags, but to themselves.“Shoulder pals” (variously known as “shoulder plushies”, “shoulder toys” and “shoulder sitters”) are small toys made in the likeness of Disney characters. They have magnetic bases and come with a flat metal plate designed to be placed under your shirt, so the toy perches on your shoulder. Since the first one, baby Groot from Guardians of the Galaxy, was brought out in 2018, these toys have become a common accessory at the Disney theme parks. There are multiple Reddit threads and TikTok videos about how to track down the latest ones (some are sold at the Disney store, but others are only available at specific locations within the parks). There will apparently be 45 official Disney shoulder pals on offer by the end of next year, with characters ranging from Peter Pan’s Tinker Bell to Anxiety from Inside Out 2. That’s not to mention the many, many knockoffs available online, as well as those sold by Primark, or the DIY pals that some creative TikTok users have been making.What is it about these toys that makes them so appealing? And what’s it like to actually wear them? As a plush toy novice – the only one I own is my beloved childhood teddy bear, Freddie, who was banished to a box under the bed with the Christmas decorations some time ago – I ordered two from the Disney store: Stitch from Lilo & Stitch, and the Raven from Haunted Mansion, plus three that I tracked down on eBay: the Cheshire cat from Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, Pascal (Rapunzel’s lizard friend in Tangled) and Ratatouille’s Remy, the most popular shoulder pal to date. I spent more than £100 in total: the Disney store price was £21 per toy, and though I managed to get Remy secondhand for slightly less, the Cheshire cat, which is one of the newer releases, cost me just over £30. Being a Disney adult, it turns out, is not cheap.Out and about in King’s Cross, London, with Remy from Ratatouille. Photograph: David Levene/The GuardianDay oneStitch and the Raven are the first to arrive, and are cuter and softer than I was expecting. Though it feels ridiculous to “wear” a toy, there is something very pleasing about the way that Stitch in particular sits flat 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 light up. There is no off switch – to the delight, I’m sure, of anyone who has bought this toy for a child – but the sound effects do stop after a cycle of three caws is complete, if it is left completely still. I set it on the window ledge where it somewhat creepily watches over me – but does at least shut up. Stitch, meanwhile, perches happily on the shoulder of my wife – Lilo and Stitch was a childhood favourite of hers, and she is instantly taken with him (though not, she stresses, enough to leave the house with him on).Day twoShopping with Stitch. Photograph: Courtesy of Lucy KnightHaving acclimatised to my new soft toy friends in the safety 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 Asda – has nobody noticed I have a bright blue alien attached to me? My first interaction is with the shop security guard, whose face splits into a massive grin as soon as he sees me. “How do you have Stitch on you?” he asks. I explain about the magnet. “So cool!” he responds. I get another compliment as I leave the store – from a customer, who, like the security guard, is a young man. “Lilo & Stitch!” he cries out. “That’s sick.”For a moment, I actually feel a tiny bit cool. “It’s only because 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 the weirdo with a crow.”Day threeTrying out Stitch’s staying power. Photograph: David Levene/The GuardianThe following morning, I decide to test the magnet’s limits and attempt a run with a shoulder pal mascot. It’s hopeless. Anything more than the gentlest of jogs and the toy goes flying – poor Stitch has to be fished out of a number of puddles, and narrowly misses a dip in the canal. Plus, I get a lot of stares.