There’s No Such Thing As a “Cool” Disney Adult

Last week, The Cut published an article titled “Good-bye Disney Adults; Hello, Disney Cool Girls.” Unsurprisingly, the Disney adults were not happy. More surprisingly, so too were the so-called “cool girls.”

As a Disney fan and longtime subscriber of New York Magazine’s fashion and culture outlet, I was intrigued to hear their take on this new-to-me trend. (Though I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel a pang of embarrassment upon reading the headline, as if the mean girls in high school had just told me my platform Steve Maddens were out of style.)

In the article (and its corresponding Instagram caption), the writer purports that a new wave of influencers are attempting to rewrite what it means to be a Disney adult in 2026—one Bobby Kim graphic tee at a time. By combining “modern algorithmic trends with a Disney twist,” the writer hints at “a new generation of enthusiasts—self-identified ‘cool Disney girls,’” who are attempting to challenge the park-hopping, cosplaying, convention-tending, ear-collecting Disney adult narrative of the past.

“The cool Disney girls are still dressing up for trips to a Disney park, but they are doing it with a different focus: themselves.” She goes on to point out that, for these #cooldisneygirls, “Disney is a place to go, but it’s not entirely who they are as compared to the past idea of Disney adult.” Their style aesthetic is “a little less literal and a more unique expression,” with outfits that “could be worn walking around a city or walking around Toon Town with the intentionally minimal Disney bag charms, ears or vintage Disney tee.”

Now, I’m not arguing (or poo-pooing) this new era of Disney dressing—in fact, I’ve turned to creators like Madi Nelson and Avery Woods for my own park-day outfit inspo (and have even penned a few as well). As a Disney consumer, I too have clocked a noticeable shift in creator storytelling over the past few years; the people you see vlogging their park days and posting GRWM videos from their deluxe Disney resort bathrooms are not the same selfie-stick-carrying YouTubers that previously dominated the digital archives. The underlying message, as described by The Cut, is that this new guard has style—making their existence far more socially palatable to mainstream society.

So, what’s got everyone so fired up in the comments section? Aside from a number of interviewees claiming their quotes were omitted or misconstrued to fit a certain narrative (yikes), @ashwilbo—whose TikTok was used as a poster child for the piece—says it best in a comment on The Cut’s original post:

“Nobody is calling themselves a ‘Disney cool girl.’ I believe that term has been used to create division. It has also started to be used interchangeably with ‘Disney mean girl.’ If you know me, you know I absolutely do not identify as “cool” by any means lol. Also, real cool girls don’t care what anyone else is wearing or judge anyone because they’re using a Loungefly backpack (which are so cute btw). I love Disney and Disney fashion and putting my own slightly edgier personal twist on Disney fashion. That’s it. At the end of the day, I’m just a Disney adult. A very uncool Disney adult.”

And that’s just it: There’s no such thing as a cool Disney adult, because “cool” is nowhere in our vocabulary. However you choose to do Disney, whether that’s accessorized with a villains-adorned Goyard handbag or in matching T-shirts you bought on Etsy, is entirely up to you—no cool, cringe or corny about it.

Like many, my love for the Disney universe started young, and it’s still where I go to find a joy most people my age refuse to allow themselves to feel anymore. I visit the parks at least once a year, and this past summer, I lugged my whole family along (yup, all 12 of us), documenting my son’s first breakfast with Winnie the Pooh, his surprising giggles while riding Haunted Mansion, as well as multiple sibling recreation photos in front of the castle. Dorky? Maybe. But for me, Disney fandom has always been a safe space for individuality and self-expression, and I’d hate to imagine a world where that’s policed rather than embraced.

And while I may not qualify as a true Disney adult—for one, I only own a single set of ears—I welcome the association, and I certainly don’t think it has any bearing on my personal “coolness,” in or out of the parks. In my estimation, the moniker simply means doing what you want, dressing how you want and connecting with like-minded people who also really, really like riding Guardians of the Galaxy: Cosmic Rewind three times in a row.

The Cut article leads with a single quote from AJ Wolfe’s 2025 book Disney Adults: Exploring (and Falling in Love With) a Magical Subculture: “[Disney adults are] often maligned in the larger culture and put on a particularly high pedestal of cringe.” But, as if right on cue, the writer cuts off Wolfe’s most telling part. “But in truth, their obsessive fandom hints at a universal desire for pleasure and joy, for magic and escape.” All in the pursuit of being anything but cool.

In other words, I’ll take magic and escape any day. Let’s leave the cynicism to the cool girls.