I am in a near-vegetative state, swaddled in blankets on a sea of cushions. The light is a warm, diffuse glow and the scent of sandalwood lingers, resinous and deep.
Time feels loose, the minutes dissolving into each other without urgency. The unhurried sound of a bamboo flute carries gently to my ears, broken only by the sound of the IKEA sales assistant insisting over and over:
“Sir, you have to leave. Sir, you can’t stay here.”
Sometimes, reality is a harsh wakeup call. It’s why so many of us grab opportunities for a bit of zen whenever we can.
Everywhere you look, the cult of calm is exerting its smooth, well-moisturised grip. People watch hours of trains gliding through Norwegian fjords. Play games where they manage cosy old bookshops. Nod off to meditation and sleep apps on their phones.
We live in an era where high-octane is giving way to low cortisol. It’s far from the first such time. During periods of instability and change, tastes often run toward the calm and the familiar. We can see it clearly even as far back as the 19th century, where Victorian society embraced pastoral and the Arts & Crafts movement. In the face of mass industrialisation and mechanisation, society collectively reminisced about simpler, slower times.
We’ve already turned our eyes to today’s version of this resurgence in nostalgia. But nostalgia is just one facet of a much larger picture.
What started as a trickle of lo-fi beats to study and relax to has become a torrent – a cultural wave crashing (softly, of course) through industries everywhere, whether it’s interior design, entertainment, or cuisine. And the defining feature of this, in our view, is all about reducing stimulation.
Our desires haven’t changed, but the form in which we desire them has. We prefer things to be non-confrontational, to be smooth, easy, and ask nothing of us. Being cognitively undemanding and predictable is a plus, not a minus. Looking up plots is now a common pastime. And counter-intuitively, it’s been proven to enhance enjoyment – not reduce it. For those anxious or overstimulated (and anxiety is closely tied to overstimulation), uncertainty simply adds negative weight to an experience. Surprise and novelty aren’t worth it.
This contradictory desire to consume, but calmly, creates strange juxtapositions. It’s why more and more people prefer to watch re-runs over new shows. It’s why fashion trends are so often quiet, or slow, or comfy. It’s even why when you walk into a coffee shop, that shrine to stimulation, it’s all Japandi decor and hands clutching matchas.
Many are commenting on this associated rise in wellness and calm chic. Some are identifying its roots in social media – the unending stream of notifications and reels – or a post-pandemic shift. A few are even joining the dots to it as a response to overstimulation itself. But almost none are looking at where it will go next and why.
At Sense Worldwide, we’ve always believed that the future is divided unequally. There are those already living in the future, if you look in the right places. And for those with conditions like autism and ADHD, overstimulation is part of life. Their communities have been finding successful coping mechanisms for decades.
The following are all commonly deployed methods for in low stimulation design:
You can easily tie each of these methods to majorly successful products in recent years. Loop earplugs that block out extraneous frequencies. Korean suncreams that don’t leave a greasy residue. Weighted blankets in the bedroom. Each one represents a sensory design cue that has grown in relevance and continues to do so. It’s why we’re far from the low stimulation design peak.
While some areas are well-trodden, there are a still a number of innovations and ideas commonplace in low stimulation environments and alleviation techniques that have not yet reached the mainstream:
Visual
While noise cancelling proliferates, therapeutic lenses that block certain harsh wavelengths of light are still waiting for their moment. It is only a matter of time before someone brings anti-artificial light glasses or phone covers into the mainstream.
Auditory
While interior design goes for plump and plush, and a soft ‘look’, few are incorporating actual sound dampening into their products. But those that can help bring a sense of hush seem destined to gain relevance.
Tactile
Weighted blankets and bangles have slipped into niche acceptance – there may be scope for it to push into the fashion realm as well, such as with weighted scarves. But our bet is more on more subtle sensory tech – like Apollo Neuro – that can measure stress and vibrate reactively as a calming measure, or products that intentionally incorporate haptic feedback.
Routine
Decision fatigue is increasingly recognised as something to be managed. In the hospitality sector, this is reflected in the rise in travelers opting to sign onto tours and guided holidays. But it could go far further. Resorts or retreats emphasising predictability and minimal decision-making can carve a niche of their own.
What ways could you incorporate low stimulation design into your offering? We can help you understand what sensory cues should be selectively muted or enhanced, how to create rituals or habit-forming patterns, or find methods to ingrain predictability or strip out unwanted surprises.
With little sign that the world will become less stimulating any time soon, acknowledging that consumers have less mental bandwidth will be increasingly important for existing brands to adapt. And, of course, there is huge potential growth in the ballooning segment of consumers looking for ways to carve out more headspace and relax.
If you’re curious about tapping into some of the opportunities around low stimulation design, or how it could play in your space, tap us (gently) on the shoulder for a quick chat below.
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