Beyond the Princess Diana Beanie Baby
When Beanies ruled the earth, Ty paid tribute to everything from Cracker Barrel to Elvis Presley
Deep in my heart, where the truest secrets hide from the light, is a solemn understanding. I know that if I’d been a tweenie bopper or burnt-out housewife in the late 1990s, my walls would have been lined with tag-protected Beanie Babies. My plush terracotta army would have smiled down on me lovingly with their beady little eyes while somewhere Ty Warner jumped into a pool of money, Scrooge McDuck style.
Once, Beanie Babies were the bread and butter of gift shops, brainchildren of Ty Warner, an independent toymaker with a Willy Wonka streak. (Sarah Marshall’s podcast You’re Wrong About provides a killer deeper dive into the twisting history of Beanie Babies and Ty Warner.) Those who missed the in-store bloodbaths and the crash course in inflation of this craze still likely recognize a Beanie when they see one today. HBO Max documentary Beanie Mania tapped into and boosted current interest in the toys. For some, they’re nostalgic reminders of when a bear wearing a silly hat felt like a ticket to easy street. For others, they have the same retro-cute appeal as Monchichi Dolls or Troll dolls.
Beanie Babies feel personal. There’s a Beanie for mothers, for baseball fans, for those who <3 New Jersey.
Beaniepedia tallies more than 5000 unique offerings from Ty, including other plush like (the considerably less charming) follow-up line Beanie Boos. If it could be represented by embroidery and a four-line poem, it was a Beanie. Some Beanie Babies were unthemed, closer to classic teddy bears; others were squishy likenesses of every animal, real and imagined. Valentine’s Day, Christmas, and birthday Beanies appeared in droves. Beanies were gifts, souvenirs, collectables. Beanies could even be feelings: wishes of good health or Christian piety. Beanies could be the idea of summertime fun or the turn of the millenium.
Ty’s blank slates could be anything.
Even a Beanie outsider could recognize the fine purple fur of Princess, Ty’s most notorious tie-in. When the Princess of Wales died in 1997, the Beanie Baby craze was in full swing, and a memorial bear evidently made sense to Ty. By donating the proceeds to charity, Ty attempted a dignified tribute.
Princess seemed to prove the power of Beanies: their cultural relevance (hypothetically) and their resale potential. Idle rumours still swirl about Princess’s secondhand market potential.
Another Royal-inspired bear came after Queen Elizabeth II’s 2022 death. Ty released a UK-exclusive Beanie in her honour, aptly named Elizabeth II. Previously, Majesty, released in 2006, celebrated Elizabeth II’s 80th birthday. (I guess the standard birthday Beanie wouldn’t cut it.)
And Ty couldn’t forget the king! Sort of.
Elvis Presley memorabilia is eternal and inescapable, all excess. According to Beanie Baby Price Guide’s count, Ty released a total of fifteen bears inspired by the Charro! star. Many of their names paid tribute to Presley’s song catalogue: Bearning Love, Beanie Hawaii, Beanies! Beanies! Beanies!, and more. (The naming convention falls apart pretty quickly.) These bears have pompadour ‘dos, tiny sunglasses, and gaudy embroidery spanning their full chests. Muddled dual promotional bear Coco Presley bears a Reese’s ribbon and comes in two Walgreen’s exclusive colour variations.
For those who wanted their Beanies to make a statement on American politics, Ty offered Righty and Lefty, Beanies representing the Republican and Democratic parties. Beanie tensions were already running high enough, no?
Other individuals with Beanie effigies included Shaquille O’Neal. Shaqbear came dressed in red and white basketball attire, complete with O’Neal’s number 32.
Alongside poems celebrating the NBA player’s legacy, these Beanies’ tags came with “Shaq Facts” (he was teased for his size as a “youngster,” and he apparently loves Aristotle) and “Shaq Says…” inspirational quotes.
In a similar vein and with a more logical pun, Feder-bear paid tribute to Roger Federer. This tennis-playing Beanie wears a tiny white headband and clutches a teeny weeny racket. The attention to detail charms, especially compared to other sports tie-in Beanies, like a 2007 series of NASCAR bears. Appropriately, these Beanies wear their Office Depot and Kellogg’s logos proudly.
A Beanie embroidered with a big box store’s wordmark might not be every collector’s holy grail, but if it’s yours, I have some good news: there are so many.
Do you love Cracker Barrel’s homey kitsch? You can remember it in your home with one of three Cracker Barrel Beanies. Cornbread, a butter-yellow bear, boasts a poem about how good (you guessed it) the cornbread is at Cracker Barrel. Herschel, a fuzzy tan bear, has a poem that accidentally suggests he owns the restaurant chain, while Old Timer, a classic brown teddy, advocates for home-style breakfast.
Ronald McDonald the bear lacks a tag poem by virtue of being a Teenie Beanie, a McDonald’s-exclusive line of mini-size toys that also included the Hamburglar.
Ronald McDonald the bear is stark white with a red nose and ketchup-and-mustard striped suit. His clown/human namesake is embroidered on his chest.
Maybe Seaworld is more your speed. If so, why? But, okay, there are Beanies for you, too. Fin the orca whale and Gills the shark were two of five park-exclusive releases.
How about batteries? Don’t you love batteries? The Energizer Bunny can be yours in Beanie form, complete with his annoying little drum, in a Walgreens exclusive release. In his tag poem, we learn that he goes by “E.B.” from time to time.
And we’re barely scratching the surface! Gifting destination stores Hallmark, Herrod’s, Hamley’s and Beale’s offered their own exclusives. There’s a baseball-cap-wearing Beanie for John Deere. Iconic characters from Hello Kitty to Scooby-Doo (with Santa hat and Halloween pumpkin variations) became Beanies.
Ty even made Beanies in tribute to Beanies. Employee the bear was handed out to staff on a cruise ship in 1997. When Ty grossed over a billion dollars, employees recieved Billionaire, whose chest was embroidered with a dollar sign.
But what if you, like me, are interested more conceptually in Beanies? If you’ve read enough about the craze to have false nostalgia, but only browse secondhand markets when the mood strikes?
What if you’re stuck charging Beanies to your Mastercard after sifting through EBay?
