Good vibrations; Light and shadows; Bed of roses; Finding her feet.
Wearable technology aims to make our lives easier. Vanessa Lawrence tests the theory.
On an unseasonably chilly spring morning, I am standing on a train platform shivering and cursing the gossamer-thin layers beneath my black and white checked Courrèges coat. Instead of suffering, I simply tap a button, activating an internal-insulation mechanism that sends warmth radiating across my shoulders and back.
Welcome to the new age of wearable technology. What began with bracelet activity trackers, like the Nike + Fuel Band, and culminated with the Hermès Apple Watch, has grown to encompass temperature-regulating clothing, cocktail rings that send alerts when we receive calls and tweets, and mood-altering headgear. And unlike, say, the remote-controlled dress from Hussein Chalayan’s spring/summer 2000 collection, or the glowin-the-dark Zac Posen gown Claire Danes donned for last year’s tech-themed Met Gala, these wearables are more about function than fabulosity. Our clothes, it seems, are smarter than we are.
Not long after Courrèges sent its heat packed toppers down the runway, Nike introduced its self tightening Hyper Adapt 1.0 sneakers, which will be able to fulfil your Back to the Future
dreams. Michael Kors partnered with Google on a wearables line, starting with something called the Access smartwatch; and Caeden has released a bracelet that monitors your pulse – and your stress – and provides options for a meditation break. Microsoft, meanwhile, has a patent for a shirt that uses body sensors to gauge your mood – and alter it accordingly. And Levi’s has teamed up with Google on Project Jacquard to develop jeans that will send a message to your smartphone when they sense you’ve put on some extra kilograms.
My jeans already tell me when I’ve gained weight, by refusing to zip. Nevertheless, I was intrigued, and took a few of these gadgets on a test run. “I’m designing for an attention economy,” says Christina Mercando d’Avignon, the creator of Ringly, a jewellery start-up whose offerings include a cocktail ring that syncs with social media apps, email accounts and phone and text contacts, alerting you to notifications with coloured lights and vibration patterns. (The latest version also incorporates a fitness tracker; and d’Avignon is partnering with MasterCard so wearers can use the ring to, say, buy jewellery.) Ringly acts like a private bouncer, letting through only the information you deem as priority. “I only want to know when something is important,” d’Avignon says.
I decide everything is important, so I gleefully sync all possible options in the Ringly apps menu, and then watch as my emerald knocker shimmers and shakes while I type away at my desk. My Misfit Ray pendant (fitness and sleep tracker, alarm, and call/text notifier) is also vibrating, reminding me, every 40 minutes, to stand up and walk around. The only downside is that the high demand on my Bluetooth is draining my phone battery. So I whip off my Rebecca Minkoff bracelet (it doubles as a charge cord) and plug it into my juiced-up Ralph Lauren Ricky bag (interior LED light panel; phone charger). Removing my coat and accessories at the end of every day – save for the Misfit Ray, which I need in order to track my sleep – feels like taking out my SIM card.
The next morning I’m awakened by a buzzing on my chest. Ah, my Ray alarm. A glance at the app confirms that I achieved six hours and 51 minutes of “restful” sleep. As I am about to leave for the gym, I realise I neglected to charge my Ricky bag, my Ringly, and the attachment for my fitness-tracking Polo Tech workout shirt. I dump all the cords in my bag and run out the door. My one-hour boxing session doesn’t even register on my Ray (probably because I had it tucked into my sports bra to avoid being pelted in the face), and, according to the Polo Tech app, I had burned only 500 kilojoules. Determined to make up the points for my Misfit Ray goal, I walk to work. By late afternoon, I am exhausted and listless. But I have a party to attend and need to rally.
Thankfully, there is a wearable for that too! The Thync, a triangular white pod that affixes to your right temple via an adhesive strip, sends FDA-approved pulsed currents to your nerve endings, delivering, or so it claims, the effect of either a glass of wine or a cup of coffee, depending on the setting. And while it is true that the “energy” vibe provides a pleasant, buzzing feeling in my head, I received some interesting comments from my colleagues. “You look like a cyborg,” one tells me.
I am starting to feel like one. What’s more, I am jumpy from all the vibrating. Even the “calm” Vibe on my Thync doesn’t seem to help. According to Ali Mattu, a clinical psychologist and behaviourist who is a faculty member of Columbia University’s Clinic for Anxiety and Related Disorders, nothing about this is surprising. “Each time you get a notification, you have to make a decision. That drains your brain,” he says. “We are not built to be constantly plugged in.”
Ultimately, I ditch everything except for the Courrèges coat, which made no demands on my attention and wanted nothing more than to keep me warm. Sounds downright human, when you think about it.