‘I can’t stop buying Jellycats’

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I walk up the cobbled streets of Durham city centre, seeking shelter from the rain. I lower my hood and turn into one of the huddled buildings along the high street, where I am greeted by a small boutique gift shop. A group of students has gathered in the corner, craning over one another, nudging elbows to get a better look. Curiosity propels me. I peer past a girl clutching something green and mottled, and then I catch a glimpse – here are piles upon piles of stuffed toys, bunnies, sloths, smiling cakes and sweater-wearing dogs. I reach out, feeling something feathery touch my fingertips: an elephant with buttery fur and floppy ears stares back at me. “I am Smudge elephant, please look after me”, reads the tag. I love him. Before I know it, I have tapped my card.

At 23, I’m not ashamed to admit I have a collection of more than 100 Jellycats. A beloved name in the world of luxury plush, Jellycat first launched in 1999 as a small stall at a trade show. Twenty-five years later it has grown into a multi-million pound empire, with a reported revenue of £200mn as of 2023. Bill Nighy has stated himself a “big, big Jellycat customer”.

Jellycat exudes a sort of magic that keeps us coming back for more

Jellies feel different; it’s a key part of their appeal. Brothers William and Thomas Gatacre founded the brand after noticing the toy market needed a revamp. “It felt tired, bare and a little bit taxidermy,” William said in 2021. Inspired by Thomas’s then seven-year-old son, Jack, who loves cats and jelly, Jellycats have captured the hearts of adults and children across the globe, and have even proven to be lucrative investments. Prices start from around £11 but some models such as Dixie, a special-edition leopard-print bunny that retired in 2014, now sell for more than £2,000.

Fellow collector Jessica, 22, and I go hunting for new additions. She hasn’t been collecting as long as I have, but her love is strong. “I just love their little faces, don’t you?” she says, picking up a Jellycat shaped like a croissant. She already has a smaller version of the pastry. “I can’t buy two of the same – can I?” Jellycat collectors often ask rhetorical questions. 

A Christmas tree stands nearby, decorated with Jellycats in the shape of gingerbread men, candy canes and penguins. “This is what I’m saving for,” says Jessica, pointing at a fluffy moon. Its tag reads: “I am Gigantic Amuseable Moon, please look after me”. At 120cm high, and priced at £750, at the time of writing there is only one in stock on Selfridges’ website. 

Ours is an expensive infatuation. But what is the allure of these furry things? I like the feeling of cashmere, but I don’t collect cashmere jumpers.

To celebrate its anniversary year, Jellycat is releasing a special edition of Jellycat Jack, who features on its logo, alongside new additions to the beloved Bashful Bunny and Bartholomew Bear. They’ve established themselves in spaces all over the world, from pop-up diners in New York and Shanghai to a pop-up pâtisserie in Paris at Galeries Lafayette, where customers select toys inspired by classic French desserts. It seems that no matter the location, Jellycat exudes a sort of magic that keeps us coming back for more; could that magic lie in something as simple as joy? 

According to research published in The Journal of Positive Psychology, teddy bears act as “mediators for personal memories”, with the strength of our connection tied to the real-life events we share with them. Our “emotional bonds outweigh the importance of (their) physical and sensory characteristics”. By creating joyful spaces, we associate our Jellycat friends with lasting memories, often alongside the people we love most.

So if you’re still looking for a present, why not pick from among my favourite friends? The gift may raise an eyebrow, but everyone needs some Jelly in their lives.