Why are women so attached to their childhood teddies?
Clare Cohen, who still sleeps with Becky Bunny, says our childhood toys can remind us of simpler times
Cohabiting, as any couple knows, requires compromise. But when my husband and I moved in together, he knew one thing was non-negotiable. She’s been in my life for three decades, knows all my secrets, and has comforted me through teenage tears and heartbreak. She’s also 25cm (10in) tall, brown with grubby white patches, and has a crosspatch mouth. She’s Becky Bunny, bought by my parents when I was six years old, and has barely left my side since.
So I wasn’t surprised to read about a new study which has found that a third of adults still sleep with their childhood teddy. The poll, by Hotpoint, also revealed that one in 10 of us would rather share a bed with our toy than our partner. Women are the most devoted, with half saying they still had their teddy, compared to 34 per cent of men.
Forget politics, this has become the week’s most divisive talking point, with a fierce debate on social media between the “I love my teddy” club and the “sorry, you still do WHAT?” crowd.
I might not have been shocked by the statistics, but I was surprised at the number of grown women prepared to publicly admit to still cuddling their childhood toy. I’m even more surprised to be among them. Let’s face it, explaining that your stuffed rabbit still migrates under the duvet isn’t something you want to shout from the rooftops (or write about in a newspaper). Especially if, outwardly, you’re doing a good job of seeming like a sophisticated adult.
On Twitter, barristers and publishers piled in to defend their stuffed pals. Isabel, 38, a high-flying banker in the City, still sleeps with her leopard, Tigger, every night.
“My husband thinks it’s a bit odd, but I think he likes to tease me about it more than he’s bothered that Tigger is in our bed,” she says. “I’m not really
sure why I need him… but I’m so used to drifting off to sleep hugging him.”
So why are so many of us unwilling to relinquish our grasp on our furry friends? For me, it comes down to comfort – something I think we all crave. The Scandinavian hygge interiors trend is no coincidence: you might not curl up with Mr Panda, but do you have a faux-fur cushion, or a hot water bottle with a fluffy cover? One colleague who expressed horror when I told her about Becky (never Rebecca), admitted that her furry blanket was the “best thing in my life”. Well, add 30 years of emotional investment and a cute little face and you see my point.
We are increasingly placing value on the soothing power of touch. Searches for ASMR (Auto Sensory Meridian Response) on Youtube – which produces 13million results – have doubled since 2018, as the physical reactions produced by watching videos of people whispering into microphones, or smoothing pillows, help us sleep. There is evidence of the benefits of toys in helping dementia sufferers, which Dementia UK says can “create pleasant feelings of reminiscence or affection”. Meanwhile, a 2013 study by the University of Amsterdam found that cuddling a teddy can lower stress levels and help us come to terms with our mortality.
A third of students take their soft toy to university – like Sebastian and his famous bear Aloysius in Brideshead Revisited – suggesting that, by our late teens, they have moved beyond the mere object attachment attributed to young children and taken on enough significance to provide protection against loneliness, homesickness and hangovers. They remain a piece of home throughout our lives; a reminder of a less complicated time. Just ask Grayson Perry, who devoted an exhibition to his 55-year-old bear, Alan Measles, and drove him around Europe in a glass shrine.
Gina Martin, the 27-year-old activist who recently changed UK law with her anti-upskirting campaign, agrees. She posted a photo of her bear, William, on Instagram after being told it was weird to still have him. “I received hundreds of people’s stories about their teddies,” she says. “With everything going on in the world right now we all need a hit of nostalgia, and our teddies are the purest form of that. They remind us of simpler times.”
Inevitably, there is another strand to this debate: how often a teddy should be cleaned. According to the survey, the average time between washes is seven years, but I urge caution: five years ago, I popped Becky in a pillow case and set a “gentle” cycle. Reader, she was decapitated. So traumatised was I that, aged 30, I had to ask my mother to sew her head back on.
Am I embarrassed? Yes – just as I am mortified when I come home to find that the cleaner has placed Becky, with some care, on my pillow. Or when my Dad mentioned her in his father-of-the-bride speech.
My husband, at least, isn’t fazed. “When I first saw her, I thought it was a joke,” he tells me. “Now it’s kind of nice she’s there, in a funny way.” With that answer, he can stay in bed with me too – for now.