Dear Crew,
I used to work in UI and UX design.
UI stands for user interface. How do I design an appealing user interface?
UX stands for User Experience. Essentially, it boils down to a fairly simple question: How does a person experience something while using it?
Not just: Does it work?
But:Is it easy to understand? Do I have to go through an unnecessary number of steps? Does it feel good to use? Where do I run into friction? Where do I lose interest?
For a long time, I thought these were questions for websites and digital products. Now I believe they’re perfectly suited to our lives. After all, our everyday lives have auser interface, too.
Let's take a morning routine, for example. Maybe it consists of many carefully chosen steps: drinking water, cleaning your tongue, oil pulling, journaling, meditation, breathing exercises, taking supplements, exercising, skincare, breakfast, planning your day, and practicing gratitude.
All of that can be wonderful. But maybe you hardly ever follow your own morning routine anymore because just the thought of it makes you tired.
From a UX perspective, the interesting question wouldn't be: "How can I finally bring myself to be more consistent?"
But rather: " Is this process actually well-designed?"
Maybe you don't need more discipline. Maybe you need fewer clicks.
I'm noticing this in many areas of my life right now. I like rituals. I like complex ideas and entire worlds. But complexity in the background doesn't mean thatputting itinto practice has to be complicated.
Sometimes all it takes is three sprays of a familiar scent to make an unfamiliar room feel different. Pfffft. Pfffft. Pfffft. Done.
Sometimes a single piece of information is enough in a conversation. I don't have to tell my whole story for something true about me to come across.
Sometimes an idea doesn't need a detailed master plan. Aprototype is enough.
In product development, this is called an MVP—a Minimum Viable Product. It’s the smallest version that actually works and thus allows you to keep moving forward in the real world. It’s not the most impressive one. It’s not the version that theoretically covers every possible scenario. It’s the one I can actually use.
Maybe your workout routine isn't bad just because it only lasts twenty minutes. Maybe the body lotion you love to use every morning is more luxurious than the elaborate skincare routine that mainly just looks pretty in the bathroom. Maybe a friendship doesn’t need hours-long regular get-togethers, but rather ten minutes during which you truly connect.
Maybe there's nothing wrong with you; perhaps the user experiencejust hasn't been optimized yet.
That’s an amazingly positive perspective. Because suddenly, you can easily change the interface of everyday life. That’s what good UX means to me: not assuming that people will behave the way you planned. Instead, observing what actuallyhappens.
Maybe you’d like to get up at six every morning and meditate, but for months now, the first thing you’ve been reaching for is a cup of coffee.
Maybe you have a beautiful desk, but you still always work at the kitchen table.
Maybe you’ve resolved to go to the gym three times a week, but you’d much rather exercise outdoors.
These aren't automatically proof that you're undisciplined. They're data. Your real life gives you feedback on how it's designed.
That's exactly why I like prototypes. They're supposed to help me figure out what works.
That changes the way we plan, too. A plan doesn't have to predict the future accurately. It can be an initial user interface that I test. If it doesn't work? Just tweak it. That's not a failure of the plan. That's product development.
If you get stuck in the same place every day, don't immediately ask, " What's wrong with me?"
Ask yourself: " What could I do better here?"
Where in your daily life could there be less friction? What do you actually use? What’s just sitting around because you once thought that’s what a good life was supposed to look like? And where are you still trying to conform to a certain mold, even though you could have changed it long ago?
Perhaps this is one of the quietest moments of luxury: when something fits so well into our everyday lives that we hardly even have to think about it anymore.
It just works.
And suddenly, the energy that was previously spent on the day-to-day demands of life is once again available for life itself.
With love and fewer clicks,
Jeannette