Why Adults Are Collecting Toys Again: The Rise of Kidult Culture in 2025

Is Kidult Culture Here to Stay? Why Adults Are Choosing Toys, Softness, and Rebellion in 2025

Kidult Culture Isn’t a Trend—It’s a Shift

At first, people laughed. They saw a grown adult hugging a plush bunny or carefully arranging vinyl figurines on a shelf and thought, “That’s cute—but weird.” But fast-forward to 2025, and nobody’s laughing anymore. What started as a niche quirk has become a cultural shift. Kidult culture—the rise of adults who unapologetically collect toys, plushes, and nostalgia-driven merch—isn’t slowing down. It’s picking up steam, and it’s changing the rules of what adulthood is supposed to look like.

This isn’t just a case of “people trying to feel young again.” That’s the lazy take. What’s really happening is a redefinition of what emotional security and identity look like in a broken world. The generation fueling this movement isn’t immature—they’re exhausted. Burned out. Disconnected. Disillusioned with corporate life, economic pressure, social performance, and filtered perfection. So they’re turning back to something simple. Something tangible. Something that made them feel safe when the world didn’t demand a résumé to justify their existence.

And that’s exactly why this isn’t a passing phase. It’s not about being childish. It’s about reclaiming emotional space in a culture that rewards numbness. These toys—the plush jellycats, the handmade bunnies, the vinyl monsters—they’re not just “cute.” They’re anchors. Rituals. Emotional armor. They give people a sense of calm, even when the rest of life feels like it’s unraveling at the seams.

You see it everywhere now. Etsy stores selling collectible plushies with months-long waitlists. TikToks of adults crying happy tears when they unbox a long-awaited character. Instagram feeds dedicated to themed shelves and color-coded collections. What used to be hidden in bedroom drawers is now proudly displayed like art. Because for a growing number of adults, it is art. It’s memory. It’s healing.

Even more telling? The industries have noticed. Major toy brands are redesigning lines for adults, not kids. Packaging is more sleek. Price points are higher. Descriptions lean into emotional well-being, not just playtime. This isn’t a side hustle anymore—it’s a business model. And it’s growing fast.

Still, there’s judgment. There always is. The internet loves to mock what it doesn’t understand. But that judgment says more about the critic than the collector. Because in a cold, overstimulated, commodified world, what’s more rebellious than choosing softness? Choosing joy with no ROI? Choosing something you don’t have to monetize, share, or justify?

This isn’t just a cute little blip in the culture. This is a shift. A soft rebellion. A quiet protest against a world that forgot how to feel. And whether it’s a $20 stuffed frog or a $300 art toy—adults are reclaiming their right to feel safe, weird, and whole. That’s not going away anytime soon.

The Business of Comfort and the Rise of the Kidult Economy

What started as an emotional escape has quietly turned into one of the fastest-growing markets in consumer culture. The kidult economy isn’t just about toys—it’s about the business of comfort. And in a post-pandemic, burnout-driven world, comfort sells. Hard.

Retailers saw it early. While traditional toy sales to kids plateaued, sales to adults skyrocketed. Not just in novelty shops, but in major retailers. Big-box stores now have plush aisles that clearly cater to grown-ups—neutral-toned Jellycats, oversized squishables, collectible drops with minimalist packaging and cheeky adult references. What was once a guilty pleasure is now an intentional marketing demographic. Kidults are out here dropping $60 on a stuffed duck in a raincoat and not thinking twice about it.

It doesn’t stop at plushies either. Designer vinyl toys like Labubu, Pop Mart figures, and Bearbricks have become status symbols—flexed on Instagram next to iced coffee and luxury skincare like lifestyle accessories. Limited drops sell out in minutes. Resale markets are booming. There are Discord servers and Reddit threads dedicated to tracking toy restocks the way sneakerheads track Jordans. This isn’t casual—this is commitment. And it’s fueling an entire economy.

Toy conventions now sell more to adults than children. Independent creators on Etsy and Shopify are building full-time careers selling hand-crafted comfort objects. TikTok creators build entire audiences around toy hauls and unboxings. It’s not just a vibe—it’s a revenue stream. And the numbers are wild. In 2024 alone, plush sales to adults crossed the $3 billion mark globally. That’s not a trend. That’s a consumer revolution.

Even luxury brands want a piece. Balenciaga, Gucci, and Marc Jacobs have all incorporated childish motifs, plush accessories, or soft textures into their recent collections. Fashion shows feature teddy bear bags and cartoon-styled makeup. High-end collaborations with plush makers are happening—because they know it hits emotionally. It’s soft. It’s weird. It stands out. And most importantly—it taps into something real.

But beyond the marketing and money, what’s really fueling this growth is how normalized it’s become. There’s no longer a need to justify it. You don’t need to explain that your bunny plush helps you sleep. You don’t need to say your vinyl toys keep you grounded. The internet has made space for this lifestyle to thrive openly. You’ll find creators with hundreds of thousands of followers whose entire personality is “plushie collector”—and they’re not just accepted. They’re adored.

And this acceptance breeds expansion. As stigma falls away, more people join in. More creators pop up. More small businesses launch. More big brands jump in. And with every post, purchase, and plush shelf tour—kidult culture becomes less of a curiosity and more of a norm. The demand isn’t slowing down. The emotional need isn’t disappearing. And the market is following the feeling.

What the Critics Get Wrong About Growing Up

The most common criticism of kidult culture is always the same: “Grow up.” It’s the classic eye-roll from older generations or hyper-masculine corners of the internet. “Why are adults wasting money on toys?” “Why do you need a stuffed animal to sleep?” “Act your age.” But here’s the thing—the critics are clinging to a version of adulthood that never really worked. And the people they’re mocking? They’re not confused. They’re free.

To understand kidult culture, you have to understand how suffocating traditional adulthood became. For decades, adulthood was about sacrifice. Trade your hobbies for bills. Trade your joy for productivity. Show up, shut up, and grind. That’s what being a grown-up meant. The result? A generation of anxious, burned-out people trying to find themselves in a system that offered zero room for emotional care.

Kidult culture flips that script. It says: why not bring comfort into adulthood? Why not heal by reclaiming the things that once made you feel safe? Why not find softness in a world built on hardness? There’s nothing immature about knowing what calms you down. There’s nothing childish about collecting what brings you joy. If anything, that’s more self-aware than most people ever get.

Still, the backlash is loud. “It’s escapism,” they say. “It’s cringe.” But let’s be real—what isn’t escapism these days? People spend hours doomscrolling. Binge-watching reality shows. Spending $300 on concert tickets to relive their teen years. That’s all escapism too. The only difference is kidult culture doesn’t pretend. It doesn’t dress it up. It’s pure, honest, and deeply personal. And that makes people uncomfortable.

Critics also love to tie kidult behavior to emotional immaturity. But the irony is, it takes maturity to admit you need emotional regulation. It takes confidence to lean into what works for your mental health, even if it doesn’t “look adult.” It takes real growth to build a life that feels good, not just one that looks good on paper.

In fact, many of the loudest voices in this space are some of the most emotionally intelligent people online. They talk openly about trauma, anxiety, and self-soothing. They share tips on curating safe spaces. They unpack their emotional triggers through collecting. It’s not about pretending life is perfect. It’s about finding beauty in the imperfection. That’s what makes it real.

The truth is, most people who laugh at kidult culture secretly wish they could let go like that. They wish they could feel something without irony. They wish they could access comfort without shame. But they’ve been so conditioned to suppress softness, they don’t even recognize it anymore.

Why Softness Is the New Strength in a Hard World

For the longest time, softness was seen as weakness. Vulnerability was shameful. Comfort was indulgent. You were expected to keep your head down, get through the day, and never complain—because that’s what “real adults” did. But that definition of adulthood is collapsing. In its place, something new is emerging: a generation that embraces softness not as weakness, but as power.

Kidult culture is the embodiment of that shift. It’s not just about toys. It’s about creating space in your adult life for safety, emotion, and joy—without apology. It’s about pushing back against the belief that growing older means growing numb. It’s about saying, “I don’t care if you think it’s childish—this helps me cope, this helps me feel, and that’s enough.”

This kind of softness takes strength. It takes courage to admit you need comfort when the world tells you to be tough. It takes maturity to carve out peace in a culture that monetizes your anxiety. And it takes clarity to know that joy is not just a reward for productivity—it’s a right.

In a society that constantly squeezes people for output, efficiency, and results, the decision to simply enjoy something—without needing it to be useful—is radical. Holding a plush toy, building a display shelf of collectibles, or styling your room around your favorite childhood characters might seem trivial from the outside. But for many, it’s an act of emotional defiance. It’s saying, “I refuse to let adulthood strip the soul out of my life.”

And this isn’t some isolated internet trend. It’s a shift that’s showing up everywhere. Mental health professionals are recommending grounding objects. Interior designers are adding soft textures and playful color palettes into adult living spaces. Therapists talk openly about “inner child work” as a legitimate healing practice. Even major brands are running entire campaigns around softness, comfort, and nostalgia.

This cultural shift matters. Because it’s not about regression—it’s about reintegration. Adults aren’t turning into kids. They’re becoming whole people again. They’re rebalancing. They’re healing. And they’re using softness as the method, not the escape.

Of course, not everyone will understand. That’s fine. The goal of kidult culture was never to impress anyone. It was never about being aesthetic for the algorithm or profound for the critics. It was about survival. About building small, meaningful sanctuaries in a world that rarely feels safe.

And that’s why it will outlast the judgment, the memes, and the thinkpieces. Because when everything else gets stripped away—when the job ends, the screen turns off, and the world feels too heavy—there’s something quietly powerful about reaching for a soft, smiling object that asks nothing of you except to be held.

In 2025 and beyond, softness is no longer a retreat. It’s a statement. It’s a strategy. It’s strength. And kidult culture is leading the charge—one plush, one shelf, one reclaimed joy at a time.