Ditch Your iPhone, Grab Your Kodak: Here's How To Have An Offline Summer

Elle

6 days ago

Once upon a time, Instagram used to be the place where I'd connect with the people I loved. I was at university and, for the first time, many of my closest friends were living in different cities. The app was like a virtual pub – I could see what my friends were doing and share pictures that captured my own new life.
Fast forward 15 years, and my feed began to look very different: a jarring mix of nihilistic memes, targeted ads and escapist celebrity news. Somewhere along the way, I had become too self-conscious to post and my friends' updates felt curated and calculated. I feel mean writing that, which is exactly what social media brought out in me: a cruel, bitter cynicism. Then, in January, Mark Zuckerberg removed fact checkers from Meta platforms in a thinly veiled attempt to win Donald Trump's approval. I'd had enough. Reader, I deleted Instagram.
For the past decade, we've been sleepwalking into a digital dystopia. But from the mass exodus of X (formerly Twitter) after Elon Musk's takeover, to the proliferation of digital detoxes and anti-tech tech, people are starting to push back. Across generations, increasing numbers are taking a stand and actively trying to reduce their dependence on technology and social media. It's a movement that prioritises human connection and mental health, and holds Big Tech companies accountable.
Cue the rise of 'offlining' or digital minimalism, the latter defined by Cal Newport, journalist and author of Digital Minimalism: Choosing a Focused Life in a Noisy World, as 'a philosophy that helps you question what digital-communication tools add the most value to your life'. For the majority of us, the thought of cutting tech out of our lives completely is unrealistic. Instead, it's about being more intentional with the technology we do use and finding sustainable ways to spend less time online.
For some, it's an embrace of all things analogue. Recent figures show specialist- and independent-magazine sales thriving. There's been a return to point-and-shoot cameras, with Kodak reporting demand for film has roughly doubled in the past few years. The growing popularity of phone-free bedrooms has led to renewed interest in alarm clocks and radios, while sales of CDs, cassettes and vinyl are on the rise for the first time in 20 years, largely driven by Gen Z. 'There's definitely a lot more younger people interested,' says Kevyn Long, owner of Hackney records store Jelly Records. 'I always think buying a record is the most engaging way of discovering music, rather than an algorithm telling you what you might like. It's about ownership, too – people like having an item to hold.'
For others, it's time to ditch smartphones. Internet searches for flip phones surged by 15,369% in 2023 among Gen Z and younger millennials, while cult Noughties models like the Nokia 3310 and Motorola Razr have been reissued for a modern audience. Of course, the resurgence of these models taps into a broader thirst for nostalgia. Nineties and Noughties aesthetics have been an enduring trend across fashion and culture, but perhaps they also reflect our collective longing for a simpler life that contains less tech.
Kaiwei Tang is CEO and co-founder of Light, a start-up making phones 'designed to be used as little as possible'. 'We always have options,' he says of our relationship with tech. 'We know burgers and chips aren't healthy, so we might eat them now and again and try to make healthier choices. For some reason, when it comes to phones, we think we're tied to smartphones.'
Light is one of the most popular styles of 'dumb phones' – devices with limited capabilities compared to smartphones. There's no email or apps. You can make and receive calls and texts, set alarms, get rudimental directions and listen to music. 'It's not about going back in time, deleting apps or adding one more app from a third party to try and minimise your smartphone use,' says Tang. 'We wanted to create an entirely new phone that's designed to be in the background. It's like a hammer: it's there when you need it. When you put it back, it disappears. We wanted to return technology to a more utilitarian format.'
The first model had a waiting list of 50,000 people after a successful Kickstarter campaign in 2015. Tang says people from all walks of life are buying Light models. Some make it their only phone, while others use it in tandem with a smartphone. Again, it's Gen Z – the demographic with the highest average screen time – that is driving the demand. 'Our customers are aware of how many hours they spend on smartphones and they are stressed and anxious. I think we all feel like, 'What happened? I just went to the toilet [with my phone]! Why can't I stop swiping?!''
Attracted to the idea of a background phone that wouldn't encourage doomscrolling, I ordered a Light Phone III. The first thing I notice when it arrives is how chunky and uncomfortable it is to hold. I realise it's not just what's on the screen: even the physical design of a smartphone promotes constant use. Once I'm set up, I text a friend, try out the camera and then… put it away. Without the option of endless scrolling and the pull of notifications, it becomes easy to put my phone down.
Tang argues that exercising self-control on a regular smartphone is virtually impossible. 'Every social-media browser is thinking about the attention economy. They don't charge you, they track you. That's the business model: they collect your information, categorise you and give it to advertisers to target customers. Companies relying on that model want you to be online as much as possible. If you don't pay for the product, you are the product.' I have a newfound respect for the people who refuse to be 'the product'. Anna Burzlaff, 33, director of global research and insights at international fashion brand Highsnobiety, has never had social media. 'I've been told it's my green flag,' she says. 'At the start, I wasn't consciously opposing it – it just didn't interest me. I wouldn't join now for a lot of reasons. Anytime I have gone on friends' accounts, I find it impacts my mood negatively. And I still don't find it particularly interesting. What is actually happening there? What is exciting or new? No one has really shown me anything compelling that I can only discover through Instagram. I don't feel like there's much on there that I can't get from legacy publishers or going to an art gallery.'
The average daily screen time for UK adults has been steadily rising and now stands at 5 hours and 36 minutes. By this point, we're all aware of the addictive nature of technology and its impact on our mental health; the dangers of digital worlds is a huge theme across popular culture. Charlie Brooker's Black Mirror, now in its seventh season, warns of a grim future if we continue being this online, while Netflix's Adolescence became one of the most talked-about shows of the year, with the first episode drawing in 6.45 million viewers. Set during the aftermath of a young girl's violent murder, it follows a group of teenagers whose lives are increasingly shaped by social media. While Adolescence doesn't explicitly point to a clear motive for the murder, it does highlight the radicalisation of young people through online spaces. So huge was its impact that Keir Starmer met the creators to discuss the issues it raised, with screenwriter Jack Thorne urging the Prime Minister to consider banning smartphones in schools.
The increasing call for policy change around tech use feels like a rebellion rising. 'There's a growing attention to the mental and emotional impact of constant connectivity,' says Dr Pamela Rutledge, director of the Media Psychology Centre in California. 'There is a concern that too much digital stimulation can come at the cost of meaningful, in-person experiences and deeper relationships.' While many of us fear slipping into 'digital dementia', a shorthand for the brain fog and reduced attention span associated with excessive phone use, Rutledge is more optimistic. 'There is no conclusive evidence that digital technology causes neurodegeneration or long-term dementia-like symptoms. The most frequently cited effects of 'heavy' digital use are short- to medium-term memory issues, however they are reversible with behaviour change.'
While improving our mental health and reclaiming our attention span are huge drivers, there's also a creeping discomfort with Big Tech. Silicon Valley was once the heart of creativity and innovation; Sheryl Sandberg told us to lean in, and with couples such as Grimes and Elon Musk, or Serena Williams and Reddit co-founder Alexis Ohanian, dating a tech mogul was practically a status symbol.
But, somewhere along the way, through unchecked growth and a disregard for the broader societal consequences, companies became monopolies, and the ecological toll reached new extremes: Amazon, Google and Microsoft all plan to build massive data centers in the world's driest regions, threatening communities already battling water shortages. Meanwhile, the pervasive power of algorithms has left privacy unprotected, with personal data being mined and manipulated in ways that feel less like innovation and more like exploitation. Not to mention news of data breaches breaking every other week.
For many, participating in the great tech rebellion is an act of self-care. Ever since the Industrial Revolution, every generation has experienced the birth of a technology so profound it changes the way we live. When television sets became mainstream in the 1970s, allowing audiences to get global news and entertainment in real time, the way people interacted with the world changed fundamentally. By the time the internet became a mainstay in the late Nineties and early Noughties, we no longer needed to leave the comfort of our own homes for entertainment or socialising. As Andy Warhol put it: 'When I got my first television set, I stopped caring so much about having close relationships.'
Today, the speed of digital innovation is so rapid that we've stopped getting excited about it. What is more thrilling is revelling in the joy and social connection of less tech dependence. 'Reducing time online can give people a greater sense of control over their attention and decisions, increasing satisfaction with life,' Rutledge says. Tang tells me about an annual survey of Light Phone users; customers report feeling happier and less stressed, and notice improved relationships with family: 'One man with a chronic health condition said his heart rate reduced.' For Burzlaff, 'the biggest thing is that I save an incredible amount of time. Every day, I'm probably saving an hour at least, and that's massive.'
Embracing digital minimalism doesn't have to be daunting. 'Even small wins – like reclaiming 15 minutes in the morning – can help you build momentum,' says Rutledge. 'You're not breaking up with tech, you're just renegotiating the relationship.' There's also no one-size-fits-all approach. I couldn't quite hack the Light Phone as my only mobile device and, as a friend pointed out – via WhatsApp – I haven't totally managed to extricate myself from Zuckerberg's grip. While I ditched the platform that encourages endless scrolling, I kept the one that helps me feel connected to friends and family. The great tech rebellion is simmering, gaining momentum among the people who rely on it the most. This time, perhaps, the revolution will not be televised.
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