“I’ll tell you the truth about the Emmys,” says Emilia Clarke brightly, as she proceeds to recount a catalogue of minor disasters at the 2026 ceremony.

“I’m walking down the red carpet, and my heel has unstitched the hem. We're already a bit late. I’ve got a publicist up my [Prada] dress with a safety pin. Then I cut myself on one of the beads on the bag, and this woman is like, [puts on American accent] ‘Do you know you have blood on your dress?!’ Then, seconds before I go on stage, I’m like, ‘I’m just going to run to the loo’. Went to the loo, started my period.” She cackles. “Didn't have anything, wasn't expecting it! I’m like, “Elle Fanning, have you got a tampon?'”

While some celebrities might refrain from telling us this story, Emilia Clarke is actively keen to share it. She loves reading interviews where her favourite stars are frank and open. “That's why I try to be as honest as I can, because I'm speaking for the me reading the piece,” she grins.

The story also serves to demonstrate that the actress has learned to laugh off last-minute surprises, despite lying awake and worrying about events in advance. “The night before – or two weeks before – I’m freaking out. But all of those things happen and I’m absolutely fine. Humour is like medicine. It fixes everything. Everything.”

Professionally, comedy and drama often go hand in hand for Clarke, with roles in memorable romcoms such as Me Before You, Last Christmas and, more recently, the spy series Ponies. Personally, it seems humour is getting her through the dramas of life, too. “As long as I just keep trying to have a giggle... That's my goal for the next decade of my life: to take it lightly. But it requires strength to find things funny. It really does.”

When we speak, a couple of weeks after Marie Claire’s London photoshoot, Emilia is pushing through post-Emmys jetlag and approaching her 40th birthday. ‘Pushing through’, in fact, has been a general theme of Clarke’s adult life so far. In 2011, shortly after filming season one of Game of Thrones, she had the first of two life-threatening brain hemorrhages. “Season one wrapped at Christmas; by February, I was in hospital with my first brain hemorrhage. So my first press tour was me on morphine.”

In 2013, it happened again. “The second time, I was like, "This just is really, really, really, really hard. And then my dad died, and that completely undid me.” Reflecting on it now, Clarke concludes that she spent a decade in shock. “When I was filming Game of Thrones, I had zero curiosity about myself, about the experience, about anything. I was just in shock. I froze – for 10 years.”

Clarke is brimming with resilience. Perhaps a tad too much for her own good. Filming one of the most intense, scrutinised series ever made, becoming globally famous as the Mother of Dragons, all while experiencing the kind of personal trauma most of us hopefully only have nightmares about… she prevailed. “I was just like, ‘just keep going’. So then, when [Game of Thrones] stopped, all of these feelings came and took over me. COVID happened, it was a perfect storm.”

Has she emerged stronger? “Oh hell, yeah. I’m grateful for all of it,” says Clarke, emphatically. “Once you are given time after the hurt, you've been given a superpower, and that superpower is empathy.”

She describes connecting with people immediately if they have experienced brain injuries or grief, and being more able to speak out in difficult situations. “It’s so scary to be completely in your feels, and it's not always appropriate, obviously… I’m someone who's very anti-conflict, but whatever the issue is in the room, I'll just say it. ‘Sorry, guys, gonna have to talk about this now.’”

Clarke has also become more intentional about her career choices, embracing what she can control and acknowledging what she can’t. “You can try to develop some kind of strategy, but the only thing that anyone sees is the final cut. That's something that, unless you're Meryl Streep, you don't have any control over,” she shrugs. “So you can say yes to a project, and within three weeks of being on set, be like, ‘This isn't what I signed up for, and I'm in it now, so I can't turn around and change it…”

Having fallen in love with acting as a child, Clarke’s first on screen appearance was in 2009, in an episode of Doctors. In 2015, she played Sarah Connor in Terminator Genisys, and joined another iconic sci-fi series in 2018’s Solo: A Star Wars Story. “I think the first 10 years of my career, Game of Thrones aside, was just an exercise in me saying yes because I didn't know I could say no. Since then, I've become much more considered about my choices and about who it is that I'm working with. Because I want to want to go to work, and in my mind, the only way to do that is to work with people that you feel good about working with. Then if the job isn't successful, [at least] you had a good time.”

Clarke is clearly enthusiastic about her latest move: a switch to theatre. She lights up when she talks about preparing for her role in Plenty, at the prestigious National Theatre in London. “Getting to be on stage at the National, being directed by Richard Eyre in a David Hare play… I’m just buzzing!”

The actress also had a ball filming upcoming romantic drama Next Life, in which her character Ivy experiences two parallel storylines. It’s set in the London jazz scene, and Ivy is an aspiring singer who gets together with a musician (Edgar Ramirez) in one reality, and reunites with her boyfriend (Jack Farthing) in another. “I used to sing jazz when I was younger, so instantly I was like, ‘Yes!’”. Her character is funny and self-deprecating – unsurprising then to learn that Clarke brought a lot of herself to this semi-improvised role. “When I watched the film, I was like, ‘That's me!’”. Clarke already knew and loved the director, Drake Doremus, and says, “It was the happiest time of my life. I'm not even joking. It was London, and it was Christmas, and it was just heaven. I made some real, true friends.”

The actress is a regular journal writer (“I just give myself a talking to before I go to sleep”), and is careful to avoid social media. “I post and I ghost. I do not partake of Instagram at all because within 30 seconds I'm miserable… Have I seen a picture of myself at the Emmys? No!” she exclaims triumphantly. Real, in-person connections are what Clarke is after. “An algorithm isn't going to keep you warm at night. It's not going to give you your wildest dreams. It's not gonna make you laugh. It's not gonna support you.”

Does she feel social media compounds the pressure on women to look a certain way? “The expectations of image across the board, like for men and for women, is just completely untenable,” she says, with notable animation. “You want us to look the same? You want to just be a population of the same face and the same body? Come on, we're human! We're gonna change.”

On the gender issue, she says, “The difference, I think, is that still we in a society are going to criticize women faster than we will criticize men.” It does seem to be a fate that more befalls females though, to struggle with getting meaningful roles in their 50s and 60s. “Yeah, and that keeps me up at night. I try and work out how not to place my sense of worth on other people’s sense of expectations or views. And it’s really hard to do it. The key to complete misery is comparison. I'm not saying I don't do it, but I try and catch myself, and I try [to] find strength in who I am.”

Thoughtful, funny, self-aware, Clarke has clearly come a long way since that “frozen” decade, though she doesn’t pretend she’s got it all sewn up. She’s learning to laugh off the present, but the future is proving harder to rationalise. “I’m unhealthily obsessed with what is to come,” she admits. Mention the phrase “self-love” and she counters it with, “Well, self-acceptance. Some people find it difficult to get to the love bit.” How is she doing on the love bit? “I’m doing all right!” she laughs. “I’m getting there!”

Any last words for the Marie Claire readers? “Everyone who reads this magazine is absolutely fabulous.” And, as if we couldn’t love her more, “Now, I’m going to get into my pyjamas and sit on the sofa.”

Photographer: Juan KR
Stylist: Maria Barsoum
Managing Director: Hannah Almassi
Digital Director: Jennifer Dickinson
Fashion Director: Lily Russo Bah
Videographer: Jonathan Middleton
Make-Up: Brooke Turnbull
Hair: Shon Hyungsun Ju
Manicure: Ami Streets
Photo Assistants: Grant Hamilton, Andrew Magurran
Styling Assistant: Giovanna Piergallini
Second assistant: Julie Smirnakos
Production: Town Productions
Words: Anna Smith

Quiet luxury, pared-back minimalism, classic and sleek: just a handful of the phrases I’ve lost count of using to describe runway looks in recent years. Take this as a full confession that I should, yes, absolutely widen my descriptive vocabulary. Thankfully, those terms will be taking a break for the foreseeable—and not just because I've been hunting for synonyms. Trends and our own interpretations of them are changing, rather sharply. Personality being the word back in full focus.

Fashion brands are stamping their own DNA into each look more firmly than they have in past seasons. And across the Autumn/Winter 26 collections now landing in stores, distinct trends have been bypassed in favour of more individual styling and stronger brand signals. Take Khaite’s military moment, Miu Miu’s girlish influence and Chloé’s focus on craft as just a handful of examples.

Away from the runway, women on the street and our social media style heroines are visibly adding their own mark to every outfit. When I analyse it, I can see that my own wardrobe is starting to look less prescribed and far more personal. Could the era of the trend, of the uniform-like outfit, be over? The answer, seemingly, screams yes. And according to Renia Jaz, a content creator famed for her distinctive style, it all comes down to fashion fatigue.

“We see so many trends and micro-trends come and go so quickly that it can become exhausting trying to keep up with them all. I think people are starting to realise that they don’t need to,” she tells me. The over-saturation of runway trends, in-store clothing rotations, influencer snaps, get-ready-with-me videos and the general breakneck speed of the industry is finally working in the opposite direction: we want to dress for ourselves, not the way the industry tells us we should.

Which is, quite simply, the essence of personality dressing, as Jaz describes it. “Personality dressing is about wearing something that genuinely feels like you. It’s about using fashion to show a little bit of who you are and what kind of person you are, but also wearing clothes that make you feel confident in yourself.”

Shop Renia's Style

“For a while, quiet luxury became such a dominant aesthetic that fashion started to feel a little uniform. There was a lot of the same minimalism, neutral colours and very polished styling, and I think people are now ready to have a little more fun with their clothes again,” observes Jaz.

This doesn't have to mean loud, extravagant or even full of colour. Just a wardrobe that feels like you—not the influencer with 50,000 followers, nor the latest trending look plastered all over the high street. And by leaning further into their own DNA, fashion houses are making a claim on their customer base, pleasing them rather than attempting to convert a wider audience. It may just be their smartest tactic yet.

But how do you rediscover your personal style, or find it in the first place? That’s the question now in need of an answer. According to British designer and stylist Lucinda Chambers, whose wardrobe is a melange of print and colour, it’s all “about stripping back, paring down, clearing out the things that don’t make you feel either comfortable, joyous, elegant or interesting. Those are the rules.” Dressing by heart, essentially.

Shop Lucinda's Style

“Colour is a great way to start,” Chambers continues, “and not necessarily bright and loud. It can be navy and black, but with shapes and proportions that sit right with yourself. I tend to go for exaggeration, huge trousers and a slim coat, or huge coat, narrow trousers. But size matters to me as I don’t want to slip into normal boring.”

For Jaz, “it’s often in the details and in the way I mix things together”. Think statement earrings, attention-grabbing shoes or the crossover of masculine and feminine elements to add an unexpected twist to something more classic. “I’m a big believer in mixing old and new. I love bringing vintage pieces into my outfits or rediscovering something that has been in my wardrobe for years and styling it with something new.”

And if you’re tapping into a trend, try to make it your own, says Hannah Brown, who has garnered over 300,000 followers on Instagram in just a few months by sharing a daily outfit video before leaving the house. The appeal? Brown has fun with her wardrobe, mixing colour, metallics and fringing.

“The same trend can be worn by thousands of people, but it’s someone interpreting it uniquely that grabs the most attention. I’ll happily borrow from a trend or buy a trending item, but I don’t want it dictating the entire look. I want the outfit to still feel like me.”

Shop Hannah's Style

Ultimately, it’s proof that, as Jaz puts it, “You don’t need an entirely new wardrobe to express your personality—sometimes an older or vintage piece is exactly what makes a look interesting and uniquely yours.”

And perhaps that's the most freeing part of all: there are no real rules to break, save the ones you set yourself. “Rules are meant to be broken,” says Chambers. “If we stuck with them we would all look identical and that would be a very dull world”. So, embrace the era of wearing whatever it is you like. The women who have always done so are, in my opinion, the very best dressed.

When looking for your next fragrance obsession, you're probably accustomed to sticking to familiar fragrance families or beelining for a brand you know you love. But what if your perfume preferences have less to do with whether you favour florals or woody notes, and more to do with who you are?

After all, fragrance is deeply personal, shaped by our memories, tastes, habits and the way we see ourselves. Whether you're a reformed minimalist embracing a little excess, a recovering wellness obsessive or someone who takes pride in discovering things before everyone else, there's a scent to match.

Take our quiz to discover your perfume personality—and the fragrances that might feel just like you.

Discover Your Perfume Personality

The Tastefully Unhinged

You know your rising sign, have paid someone to clear the energy in your house and can talk quite seriously about manifestation without ever sounding remotely woo-woo. Your wardrobe is an artful collision of Roksanda, vintage Westwood and something you found on a beachside stall in Goa; your bathroom contains a gua sha, Vintner’s Daughter and at least one object whose purpose is energetic rather than cosmetic.

You’re ten minutes late to everything but remember every birthday, give excellent presents and are the first person your friends call in a crisis. You trust your intuition, have made at least one major life decision based entirely on a feeling and will try almost any unconventional therapy once.

Your fragrance taste is similarly esoteric but polished: incense, resins, sacred woods and aromatic botanicals that smell more Dover Street Market than crystal shop.

The Curated Underachiever

You haven’t lost your drive; you’ve just grown suspicious of anything that requires you to wake up before 6 a.m. You’ve stopped measuring a good day by how many things you ticked off your to-do list and started measuring it by whether you had time to lie down.

You’ve discovered that cancelling plans can feel as satisfying as making them, and increasingly prefer to enjoy your luxuries horizontally: excellent sheets, room service, a hot bath.

Accordingly, you want your perfume to provide the olfactory equivalent of being tucked in: rice, milk, almond, vanilla, tonka and soft woods—gourmand, but never cupcake.

The Post-Wellness Woman

You’ve taken all the supplements, worn the sleep tracker, done the adaptogens and spent an unholy amount on green juices. You know what spikes your cortisol and blood sugar and, increasingly, wish you didn’t.

These days, you’re more inclined to take off the tracker and go for an old-fashioned walk, eat something because you fancy it rather than because it contains 30 grams of protein, and go to bed when you’re tired without asking an app how well you slept. You haven’t abandoned wellness; you’ve just stopped treating your body like a problem to solve.

Your fragrance follows suit: green, herbal and alive, with crushed leaves, bitter citrus, herbs, moss and vetiver. Less biohack, more fresh air.

The Anti-Algorithm Intellectual

You still discover books in bookshops, restaurants by walking past them and music at festivals. You don’t want everything you buy to come with a side of “you might also like”. You’re not a Luddite—you simply miss the pleasure of finding something organically without being funnelled towards it by the algorithm.

Your fragrance taste follows the same logic: you’re drawn to unusual notes, unexpected combinations and perfumes that aren’t immediately easy to place. Maybe that’s paper, ink and old bindings; perhaps it’s black tea, mineral notes, bitter herbs, smoke or something altogether stranger.

The Reformed Minimalist

You’ve spent the last decade cleansing your life of clutter—and inadvertently removed all trace of colour from your wardrobe, every throw cushion from your bed and most appliances from your kitchen worktops.

At some point, surrounded by limewashed walls devoid of personality, you began to wonder whether all that restraint had become rather suffocating. You’ve still got great taste; but now you’re remembering that good taste doesn’t always have to be so quiet.

Perfume is the gateway drug: tuberose, jasmine, orange blossom and ylang-ylang, worn at a volume that would have horrified you not long ago.

In case you’ve not had the pleasure: a VISIA machine is a facial imaging and skin analysis used by aesthetic clinics and skincare brands to give you a digital reading of your skin. You sit in front of a monitor and a camera takes terrifyingly close-up, bare-faced images of you, mapping things like wrinkles and sun damage. But it also offers another, more insidious metric: it compares your results against a massive global database, ranking your appearance relative to others of the same age, gender and skin type. A score of 80% means you have fewer wrinkles, spots and visible pores than 80% of the others in your group.

Of course, this is the bit everyone really wants to know. Not just ‘how does my skin look?’, but: how does it look for my age? How do I compare with thousands of other people the same age as me? Am I ageing better? Am I looking younger? And am I therefore, somehow, winning at life?

Judging by appearances, ageing well, and attempting to beat the odds of ageing is a game many of us are winning. For the past few decades, since the ‘tweakment’ revolution, the bar for what your chronological age ‘looks like’ has been moving ever higher. Earlier this year, there was a viral trend pointing out the difference in appearance of Blanche Devereaux, the 53-year-old character in US sitcom The Golden Girls (played by actress Rue McClanahan, who was 51 when season 1 was filmed in 1985), and celebrities in their fifties now, including Gwyneth Paltrow (54) and Jennifer Lopez (57). The Golden Girls looked like glamorous grannies. Gwyneth and J-Lo look more like their granddaughters.

In August, Nicole Kidman and Sandra Bullock appeared on the red carpet for Practical Magic 2, looking only marginally different from how they did in the original 1998 movie. Come September, it was 56-year-old Rachel Weisz’s turn, looking radiant as she was photographed filming a sequel to The Mummy, 27 years after the original.

Of course, all these women do look older. Whatever you do to preserve your youth from your thirties onwards, there’s no getting away from the decline in collagen or the difference in natural glow. But among many of these Hollywood actresses, there’s a striking, almost shocking absence of any of the traditional markers of ageing: the lines and wrinkles, the drooping eyelids, the sagging jawline. Now, foreheads are creaseless. Jawlines are taut. Complexions radiate such natural-looking luminosity that it’s impossible to tell whether it’s achieved by good makeup or good genes. The fact is, there’s so much you can do to protect against ageing now that each successive decade has undergone a radical reinvention, reframing our definition of what someone in their thirties, forties or fifties looks like.

When I started out as a beauty editor 25 years ago, the accepted wisdom from the skincare companies was that you’d start to see fine lines and wrinkles from your thirties. Loss of volume really started with perimenopause, in your forties, and deep wrinkles—the sort you can’t treat with creams alone—started to form in your fifties. Now, there’s a 20-year shift in the baseline. The lines and wrinkles don’t necessarily appear until your late 40s or 50s. You can be in your 60s now and still have plumped, glowing skin.

So how has this ‘baseline creep’ happened? When did 60 become the new 30? When did neanimorphic (the technical term for looking significantly younger than one’s chronological age) become so commonplace? It’s mostly the result of aesthetic treatments, yes, which will arguably make the fastest and most radical difference to your appearance. But alongside the tweakments, the wholesale adoption of daily SPF by skincare enthusiasts has definitely helped, as has the increased availability of over-the-counter Retinoids—topical vitamin A ingredients which are still acknowledged by dermatologists as the ‘gold standard’ for anti-ageing.

Starting early is also helping. Jennifer Lawrence recently said she has started her “Retinol journey” in earnest, and Hailey Bieber has discussed her interest in longevity science and the use of NAD+ treatments, saying during an episode of The Kardashians, “I’m going to NAD for the rest of my life, and I’m never going to age.” Last year, aged 42, the comedian Katherine Ryan had a full facelift, explaining that after multiple pregnancies, she felt her face had changed and it was “dissociative,” saying she just wanted to look the way she did pre-pregnancy.

One of the striking things about the new pursuit of decade-defying youth is the enthusiasm with which so many of these women now embrace it. Notable exceptions notwithstanding—such as Kate Winslet and Jamie Lee Curtis, who combat the tyranny of the anti-ageing lobby and present themselves without Botox and fillers and sometimes even without makeup—one of the biggest shifts in our post-tweakment culture is how much so many of us seem to be enjoying the journey. Perhaps it’s because of how much difference you can really make now—with impressive, clinically-proven products and natural-looking aesthetic procedures, it doesn’t feel, as it perhaps once did, that you are fighting a losing battle. Maybe it’s because of the way skincare has merged with self-care, so that elaborate and expensive treatments and routines feel indulgent rather than effortful. Maybe it’s because beauty has become a playground now, with stores like Space NK and Sephora transforming the act of beauty shopping, hitherto both an onslaught for the senses and an exercise in self-doubt, into more positive and even affirming experiences.

But even so: what if you’re someone who doesn’t want to put the work in? What if you don’t see the need, or you don’t have the time, or the income? Are there now two faces of each decade, the ‘old’ one, with the burgeoning signs of ageing you’d hitherto have expected as part and parcel of living your life—and the ‘new’ one, throwing the kitchen sink at ageing and looking far more youthful as a result? Is it now the case that simply by doing nothing, you look far older than your contemporary counterparts?

It seems to me that probably, the answer is yes. But as so often in life, maybe doing nothing is in itself an act of rebellion. All of this effort begs the age-old question: if you’re so busy prioritising the endless slog of lowering the baseline, what are you missing out on? And could those other things—the late night with friends, the ill-advised extra glass of wine, the family-sized box of Maltesers—be things that make you happy, and could happiness—whisper it—be an anti-ageing secret all of its own?

Platforms like Substack are awash with stories of midlife reinvention—of women, predominantly, who are fashioning a ‘second act’ for themselves; one in which they stop being people-pleasers and embrace a newfound freedom afforded by the double-whammy of fewer familial responsibilities and fewer fucks given. They are newly curious, newly confident, and ready for change. This is anti-ageing of a different kind; but one which, I believe, can also show on your face.

When the VISIA machine told me I looked seven years older than its cohort of women my age, a friend (to whom I was wailing inconsolably) said: “but the machine doesn’t know you. The machine doesn’t know what’s on the inside.” And she was right. The baseline, wherever it is, and wherever it ends up, is just one measure of age. Falling above it is not failing. It’s chronology. The Golden Girls may have looked older, but they had a great time doing it.

Recently, a friend introduced me to the term “dopamine chasing”, and when I say introduced, what I really mean is, accused me of it.

She’s not wrong. In my search for… something—be that content to feed the ever-ravenous social media machine, or a sense of, if not meaning, then perhaps expansiveness—I have developed an insatiable appetite for experiences.

Sometimes it feels good, like I’m Mario jumping on toadstools to boost my reserves, except instead of toadstools, I’m collecting experiences. I imagine they’ll enhance my life; make me stronger, more interesting, better travelled, better experienced — whatever that means.

Lately, though, I’ve started feeling more like a lab rat, banging my paw against the reward lever even when it fails to spit out whatever got me onto this course in the first place.

I notice it on a micro level when I instinctively reach for my phone as a treat, and on a macro level when I plan trips of a lifetime. I’ve written before about treating travel as both an escape hatch from the ordinariness of life and a way of returning to that life as a better version of myself. It was on one such trip, which, though objectively extraordinary, somehow left me a little flat, that I started wondering what exactly I was after.

I’m hardly alone. Mastercard data shows that experiences now account for 23.3% of UK consumer spending, while 88% of Britons say they’re willing to cut back on “things” to afford more of them.

We’re a nation of truffle hunters, sniffing out the next thing that might make us feel something. From Arctic cruises and safaris to fully immersive brand worlds, we’re chasing bigger experiences, more intense emotions and increasingly elaborate ways to feel alive. But what does this relentless pursuit of pleasure tell us about the emotional state of modern life?

The obvious answer is that we’ve all fried our dopamine receptors. Dopamine has become cultural shorthand for almost every modern compulsion: why we scroll, shop, snack, swipe. We talk about dopamine hits, detoxes and addiction as though somewhere inside our brains laps a rapidly depleting reservoir of pleasure that we keep fecklessly draining.

“We often talk about pleasure as if it were one thing,” says Dr Eva Periche-Tomas, a clinical psychologist and senior researcher at the University of Oxford. In reality, she explains, reward involves several distinct processes: anticipating something, wanting or pursuing it, and actually enjoying it when it happens. Crucially, “these can come apart”. This goes some way to explaining the disconnect we can feel when we’ve spent months planning a holiday, wedding or night out, only to find the event doesn’t live up to our expectations.

Why Doesn’t Anything Hit Like It Used To?

There’s an even more inconvenient feature of the human brain that puts the kibosh on holding onto that post-holiday glow, or feeling satisfied for any length of time: humans are exceptionally good at getting used to things.

Psychologists call this hedonic adaptation. Professor Sonja Lyubomirsky, a distinguished professor of psychology at the University of California, Riverside, has spent decades studying it. She also has a really good example of how it showed up in her own life. Despite being almost blind for many years, within a fortnight of having laser eye surgery, she adapted to her new, almost perfect vision.

Apparently, whether it’s those shoes you’ve been saving for or the miracle of sight, no matter how new, shiny, thrilling or, in Lyubomirsky’s case, legitimately life-enhancing, the emotional impact tends to diminish as it becomes part of ordinary life. So we rats start chasing the next fix.

This seems like a cruel component of life, and I was quick to decry “late-stage capitalism!”, but Lyubomirsky explains that always looking for the next thing isn’t necessarily a design flaw.

From an evolutionary perspective, a species that stayed content every time it secured food, shelter or a mate might not have been particularly motivated to seek anything else. Adaptation keeps us moving. The problem is that the same machinery operates when the “next thing” is no longer survival, but another restaurant reservation, purchase, trip or scroll.

When Did a Nice Life Stop Being Enough?

Until recently, writer Phoebe Lovatt tells me, she was a “big experience seeker”, moving between cities and searching for the next “expansive life chapter”. Now, with a young child, her life has become smaller geographically: more local, more routine. But social media means other possible versions of it still feel within reach. “I’ve got my mate in Mexico, my mate in New York, my mate in LA,” she says. “It just constantly gives you the sense that you are failing at having a rich life.”

I can see parallels in my own insatiable appetite for experiences. Somewhere between my first ‘grown-up holiday’ (to Benidorm, I might add) and my recent trips, I stopped being content with a tan and a good time and started expecting to come home transformed. The same goes for the once-humble weekend: it’s no longer enough for it to pass pleasantly; I need to have done something with it.

We know by now the perils of having access to everyone else’s lives, but I think we overlook the impact of having a live feed of everything we could be wanting. Phoebe describes this as a constant “contrast experience”: you can be content, pick up your phone, see a friend on a beach in Malibu and suddenly your own life feels mundane.

And the bar hasn’t only risen for what we do. It’s risen for who we’re supposed to be. “We can’t just be normal,” Phoebe says. “We need to be exceptionally hot, exceptionally rich, exceptionally well-travelled.”

Somewhere between having a nice life and living your best life, just living—something to be thankful for in itself—stopped being enough. Social media lets us press our noses up against the windows of the world’s most beautiful hotels, see what strangers eat for breakfast in Copenhagen, where they swim in Sicily and which facial they booked before going. Leisure has become another arena to demonstrate taste, curiosity, self-knowledge and our own exceptionalism.

Phoebe offers a simple test: would you still want to do it if nobody knew you’d done it? If you couldn’t post it, write about it, Substack it or fold it into the story you tell about yourself, would you be quite so invested?

It’s an awkward question for me; someone who’s made a career out of turning experiences into stories. But aren’t we all doing the same thing, to varying degrees?

Are We Experiencing Our Lives...or Reviewing Them?

Then there’s that age-old issue of living in the present. As if that wasn’t already slippery enough, we’re now so programmed to view experiences through the lens of how we’ll package them for an audience later that we’re drifting further from anything resembling ‘the moment’.

Before it happens, we anticipate and plan it; while it’s happening, we evaluate it; afterwards, we turn it into something: a story, a reel, a pithy little anecdote. Often, we’re doing all three at once.

Kathryn Jezer-Morton, author of The Story of Your Life: How Social Media Shapes the Way We Experience Everything, argues that what she calls “influencer logic” has spread beyond influencers themselves. When everyday users treat their lives as potential content, she tells me, “it reduces our capacity both to experience subtle forms of pleasure, and to express subtle forms of emotion.”

She uses language as an analogy: a limited vocabulary restricts not only what we can express, but what we can identify. Social media, she argues, has its own narrow vocabulary of what looks interesting, desirable or worth sharing.

Perhaps we’re not actually feeling less then; we’ve just become used to only recognising the capital-F Feelings as proof that we’re feeling at all. Awe. Transformation. Euphoria. The best night ever. The trip of a lifetime. Core memories. A perfectly pleasant weekend can’t compete.

Another thing sending us on a wild goose chase when we’re in hot pursuit of happiness is the endless checking.

Did I enjoy that enough? Was it worth the money? Did we make the most of the weekend? Am I relaxed yet? Am I happy?

According to Lyubomirsky, that kind of emotional quality control can be self-defeating. Research suggests that becoming preoccupied with whether we’re happy can actually undermine happiness, partly because our attention becomes fixed on the outcome rather than the experience itself. “If you’re sort of constantly asking yourself, am I happy yet?” she tells me, “that’s gonna undermine your happiness.”

I thought back to my last massage. Partway through, I started wondering whether I was relaxed. If you want to dash your own relaxation, there’s surely no quicker way than checking whether it’s working. Suddenly, I was hyper-aware of every sensation and, crucially, how unrelaxed I felt. The more I noticed it, the less relaxed I became.

Dr Nick Earley, a clinical psychologist, sees a related problem in the language of optimisation. Under sustained stress, our attention is already trained towards whatever requires handling next. Add constant stimulation and the pressure to squeeze every last drop from our leisure time, he argues, and we can end up “scanning for the next thing rather than inhabiting the one we’re in”.

Focus too intently on pleasure — or, in my case, relaxation — as an end goal, and you risk monitoring your progress towards it instead of actually experiencing it.

Could Less Actually Feel Like More?

It’s not all doom, though. Professor Elizabeth Dunn tells me about a study in which participants were given chocolate, then asked either to abstain from it for a week or given a large supply to eat freely. When they returned to the lab, the abstainers enjoyed and savoured the chocolate more. “There is a pathway to getting more pleasure from less,” Dunn tells me.

This ‘less is more’ approach runs counter to our maxxxing culture, and an economy largely organised around convincing us that the opposite is true. It might also explain why, alongside our drive for bigger and better experiences, another apparently contradictory desire is gaining cultural currency: to switch everything off.

Emma Breschi, who spent much of her twenties working as a model, has experienced the glossy version of the extraordinary life from the inside. “I think a lot of what we’re calling a search for excitement might actually be a search for connection,” she tells me.

What if We’re Looking for Pleasure in the Wrong Places?

Phoebe describes what she sees around her as a “crisis of meaning”. Work feels precarious, the future difficult to picture, the news relentless. At the same time, culture offers an abundant menu of things to buy, book, watch and experience. “No wonder everyone’s just kind of numbing out,” she says.

It’s tempting, when the bigger structures of life feel uncertain, to adopt a last-days-of-Rome mentality. I may not know what the world will look like in five years, but I can book the restaurant, plan the trip, buy the ticket. Life might feel out of control, but I can make Friday night really, really good.

The problem comes when we expect those things to provide not only pleasure, but proof: that our lives are interesting, that we’re using our time properly, that we’re happy. Phoebe talks about the odd expectation that ordinary people should now live like “a socialite or like a trust fund baby or a celebrity”. Twenty years ago, she points out, most of us didn’t know what rich people’s houses looked like. “It’s created a level of aspiration that’s impossible to reach,” she says, “and even if you do reach it, what does it mean?”

Author Louise O’Neill knows a thing or two about arriving at the life you thought would make you happy. For years, she says, her happiness felt conditional: I’ll be happy when I find the right relationship, sell enough books, achieve the next marker of success. Eventually, on paper at least, she got there. “I had the man, the house, everything looked perfect,” she says. And yet she still found herself lying awake wondering: “Is this it?”

There is a difference, she realised, between “a life that looks presentable on social media” and actually feeling alive inside it.

Therein lies the danger of packing pleasure with so much existential weight. A holiday can be wonderful, a restaurant can be delicious, a party can be the best night you’ve had in ages. None of them can permanently satisfy us.

Searching for Ways to Feel Something

The more people I speak to, the less convinced I become that my original question — why doesn’t anything feel as good any more? — is the right one.

Millie Gooch, founder of Sober Girl Society and author of Hangxiety, thinks we have a tendency to confuse pleasure with immediate reward. Her work focuses mainly on alcohol, where the distinction is obvious: something can feel good now while leaving us feeling worse later. Her preferred measure of pleasure is less about the intensity of the immediate sensation than whether something leaves you feeling better overall. “Pleasure is a long game,” she says.

I like this idea, partly because it exposes how limited my own pleasure accounting has become. It also raises the possibility that in pursuing pleasure principally through intensity, I might’ve overlooked a much less glamorous source of it: frequency.

Professor Ciara McCabe, who directs the Neuroscience of Reward Group, studies anhedonia — the reduced ability to experience pleasure. One approach her lab recommends is deliberately scheduling small positive and social experiences, such as getting a coffee or going for a walk with a friend. The aim, she says, is to create “regular opportunities to experience joy”, rather than waiting for rarer, enormous milestones.

This feels counterintuitive in a culture that tells us to dream bigger, aim higher. Of the two posters I remember being pasted to my secondary school walls, one read: You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take. The other said something about shooting for the moon because, if you miss, you’ll land among the stars. Neither seemed to be pointing me towards an adult life stuffed with more coffee dates.

And yet the science backs it up. Lyubomirsky studies savouring: deliberately directing our attention towards pleasurable experiences we might otherwise take for granted — the sun on your skin, the changing seasons, that coffee with a friend. The point isn’t to extract every last ounce of happiness from them, but simply to notice them.

In my own pursuit of expansiveness, I got the idea that the opposite of an ordinary life is an extraordinary one; when that felt flat, I started questioning my capacity to feel anything at all. But the more experts I speak to, the more I get the sneaking suspicion that a life that feels fuller isn’t necessarily one packed with more extraordinary things, but one in which I’m able to pay more attention to ordinary ones.

Dr Nick Earley put my original question on its head: “The question isn’t how to find more stimulation. It’s how to become more present for what’s already happening.” It’s easy to seek more stimulation; it’s harder to sit down and soak in what’s already there.

I still want the trips of a lifetime. I want the thrill of wheeling my suitcase through an unknown airport, dinners where the table heaves with people and chatter as much as it does food. I want adventures that make the world feel bigger and my place in it smaller. I don’t think I’ll ever be the kind of person who can fill her cup with a brew of ‘mindful’ tea.

Thankfully, none of the people I spoke to suggested I should. What I’m trying to do instead is dial down the pressure I put on those experiences. Travel and sensory pleasures can delight me, surprise me, challenge me, disappoint me or simply give me a cracking night out. They can’t make my life meaningful on command. And constantly checking whether they’re working is probably one of the surest ways to miss them.

I’m not going to stop chasing pleasure altogether, but I might try taking my paw off the lever long enough to notice what else is already there.

AI has been mischief-making in 2026. A question mark over its use delivered a fatal blow to the publishing industry; Jerry Falade’s $2 million book deal disappeared overnight after his agent was, “no longer able to authenticate how the manuscript fully evolved from origin to completion”, according to The Guardian). The Guardian also exclusively reported a worrying statistic in conjunction with the Loss of Control Observatory, “Number of times AI lies, ignores instructions and pursues goals in harmful ways almost doubles in July.” This has led to self-reflection at the highest echelons. Last month, Anthropic CEO Dario Amodei published an online essay called We Must Pace the Frontier. One sentence was bolded up in the introduction: “We must slow the pace at which we improve the capabilities of AI models. Progress will still seem fast, and we must make wise use of the time we gain.”

Fashion has not escaped the advance of AI, with mounting evidence to suggest it’s embedded in the industry (AI-generated campaigns at brands like Prada, Valentino and Mango, are just the first example). In a guest essay for The New York Times, Amy Odell wrote about the rise of companies using algorithms to decide what to actually design: “Fashion slop is the logical next step in the evolution of ready-to-wear clothing,” she wrote, adding that what this signals is nothing short of, “the triumph of money over art and craft”. Brands have also started integrating Large Language Models (LLMs) into their websites (ChatGPT is an example of an LLM). Alice + Olivia is one of them. “Our customer may know exactly what she wants, but very often, she starts with a moment, an occasion, or an idea: “I’m going to a wedding,” “I’m packing for Italy,” or “I need something chic for a rehearsal dinner.” LLMs allow us to interpret the context behind what a customer is asking and connect that intent to the right products, styles, and inspiration,” says Stacey Bendet, CEO and creative director. “I see it as an additional intelligent discovery layer and another way for us to connect with our customer based on her intent and where she is in her journey.”

The backlash seems to arise when its use infringes on the roles of real people (H&M’s use of “digital twins”, for example, an initiative which was paused earlier this year, or SheerLuxe’s AI fashion and lifestyle editor, Reem) or creativity. The use of robots at Vogue World this September also divided opinion, raising questions about the place of automation in fashion and the extent to which technology should replace human involvement.

AI’s potential to be misused is another concern (Meta’s AI glasses have faced a barrage of criticism, although, perhaps both worrying and tellingly, that has not stopped people buying them). “When brands use AI models, they find themselves in the news for all the wrong reasons. People feel duped,” says Clare Press, author of Wear Next: Fashioning the Future, and host of the Wardrobe Crisis podcast.

Does AI have a role to play in a more sustainable fashion industry? “I can imagine an AI-powered future where big data allows on-demand production at scale, potentially by sewbots in dark factories. Maybe new clothes and accessories will be only digitally printed after the customer places an order, and there will be no more stock gathering dust in warehouses. Maybe, as I wrote in my book, we'll do this ourselves in local-maker labs, and we'll shop for patterns rather than finished garments.” She’s largely unconvinced, however. “I remain sceptical about broader sustainability pitches for AI. Look over here at our shiny new method of carbon accounting! Or here, at how we're revolutionising resale online! But too often we neglect to consider the broader systems behind all this. What happens to the workers who lose their jobs as a result of automation? Who has a plan for a just transition, or is even talking about it?”

Some app-developers are finding innovative ways to use AI, helping independent designers, for example, meet a more global audience. Naia is a social discovery platform whose tagline is, “the taste network for emerging fashion.” Its founder and CEO, Miloni Sheth, says the app helps to create a growth channel for brands that is built around customer intent. “AI helps us understand broader patterns in what people are looking for, how demand is shifting and where new interests may be emerging, so we can connect designers with audiences that are more likely to respond to their work,” she says, adding that designers are given access to game-changing data. “Beyond showing them what is resonating today, we can use AI to turn those signals into more predictive indicators of demand, helping them test ideas, understand what may be gaining momentum and make more informed decisions about future collections before committing to production.” For Sheth, AI is not a replacement for the human touch. “I think the more interesting future is creative people using much more powerful tools, with human judgment still guiding the process.”

In 2024, Turkish accessories brand Misela celebrated its 15th anniversary with a campaign and exhibition titled Crafting Realms, created by award-winning director Alphan Eşeli. Misela founder Serra Türker Bayır wanted to create 15 distinct campaign images for 15 different women and cities around the world—something that would only be possible for an independent business by using AI. The result was a case study demonstrating the benefits of using AI to generate imagery when financial constraints would otherwise make such a campaign unfeasible. But this raises a more fundamental question: if the budget doesn’t allow for it, why do it at all?”

Instead, the human touch is what some brands are choosing to celebrate. Hermès regularly commissions illustrators, musicians, animators and water-colourists to bring its products to life online with exquisite whimsy. And what about the next-generation of designers?

“Several of my design students refuse to use AI at all—they see it as something which would compromise their creative approach,” says Giles Pearson, senior lecturer in Fashion Design at London College of Fashion, UAL, who adds: “My personal feeling is that the more we see AI become a fundamental skill in the design industry, the more we will see the great visionaries reject it, and more exciting work and designers will emerge.”

Heart rate variability, sleep, stress, resilience, nutrition—these days, the list of ways we can monitor and track our wellbeing seems endless. Optimisation culture is everywhere, and while an idea of how we're doing health-wise is a good thing, lately, it feels like we may have gone a little too far.

Because when we're obsessing over metrics and data, one thing is for sure: we're not having much (if any) fun. The simple fact is that health and joy aren't mutually exclusive—take, for example, the concept of the Blue Zones, where the world's oldest inhabitants reside. Researchers have confirmed that they have a few key habits (known as the 'power 9') in common—and not a single one involves self-optimisation.

In fact, research shows that the number one behaviour that ties all the Blue Zone inhabitants together is natural movement—no gym memberships or expensive health trackers required (check out this 2016 study, from the American Journal of Lifestyle Medicine).

Their approach to seeking joy and contentment is centred around connection and community, rather than rigid rules and routines—and science shows that happiness is a vital indicator of health (see this paper, from the journal Social Science and Medicine).

Which raises the question: what if we're getting wellness all wrong, and what should we actually be tracking for better health—is it pleasure and play over performance and productivity?

With all this in mind, we've asked sports psychologists and other experts for their take on why we should be prioritising fun and joy as legitimate health metrics—as well as how we can lean in.

Why Experts Say Enjoyment Deserves a Place in the Health Conversation

Shifting your mindset from tracking every step, sip, and sleep to a more relaxed approach isn't always easy, especially when you're surrounded by rhetoric that we should be upgrading ourselves 24/7.

But both are possible—and offer legitimate benefits of their own.

Joy and fun are increasingly becoming recognised as important wellness metrics, shares Dr Cassidy Jenkins, PhD, psychologist at Muscle Booster. "Both create qualitative results, measuring emotional fulfilment and nervous system regulation. This provides a more complete, well-rounded picture of someone's health than simply measuring sleep, steps, and stress, taking into account all areas of overall wellbeing.”

Why Laughter and Lightness Are Vital to Wellbeing

It's probably not news to you that when it comes to workouts, you're more likely to stick with ones you enjoy. But why is this?

"It's a fairly natural human response that when you find something you care about, you make room for it in your life and start to build social structures which accommodate it," shares feminist sociologist of sport, Dr Bethan Taylor-Swaine. As you start to build your life around what you enjoy, you also form communities with shared interests, which arguably bolsters both a sense of wellbeing and happiness, reinforcing the enjoyment, she goes on.

This is reflected in research, too, with studies showing adherence to activities increases with enjoyment. In contrast, once we start measuring performance, some studies indicate that our enjoyment of movement decreases (see this study from the Journal of Public Policy and Marketing).

The Science-Backed Benefits of Finding Joy

Beyond the mental and physical pros of prioritising joy in wellness, there are also wider social and cultural implications, too.

First up: it enhances accessibility to sports. Focusing on the simple joy of movement is a great way of levelling the playing field, explains Taylor Swaine.

"Removing the pressure of performance and creating space where movement can be seen as play, something that isn't measurable in terms of productivity or self-improvement, is important because it creates a sense of freedom," she tells MC UK. "It could also offer a sense of equity; it isn't a competitive space, no one is trying to win, it takes that element out of sport."

Not just that, but it's an antidote to optimisation culture. "Our research identified 115 active 'maxxing' trends, which have generated almost 1.5 million UK searches since 2022, highlighting just how mainstream this mindset has become," shares Dr Jenkins. "More than a third (37%) of these trends focus on physical health and fitness, while almost another third (29%) centre on improving appearance."

Now answer this question: if we're exercising purely because we feel pressure to optimise our bodies or keep up with online trends, are we likely to lose the enjoyment that makes healthy habits sustainable in the first place? Short answer: yes.

Ultimately, the healthiest approach to movement isn't about optimising every workout. "It's about finding forms of exercise that you genuinely enjoy and can sustain for the long term," she adds.

Another impressive way that incorporating joyful movement into your routine benefits both you and wider society? It addresses gender disparity in movement, according to research from the charity Women In Sport.

Data proves that more boys than girls participate in team sports, while women’s positive attitudes to physical activity are lower than men’s across capability, opportunity and motivation—but reframing movement from chore to choice might help redress this balance.

"Post-capitalist society often measures our worth in terms of productivity," explains Taylor Swaine. "There's the sense you can't have hobbies anymore; they need to be side gigs, part of a portfolio of work or a means to self-improvement." Finding joy outside of —actively choosing to prioritise happiness for your physical and mental wellbeing—directly rejects this. Because, as BACP-accredited psychotherapist Susie Masterson points out, joy is intrinsic to our well-being. "Psychological research shows that joy is different to happiness—it’s spontaneous rather than consistent."

When we invest in ourselves in a meaningful way—aka doing things that bring us joy rather than doing things because we have been told to or for some other outcome—it sends us an often much-needed message that ‘we matter’, she goes on. "This is empowering and can often lead to a renewed sense of resilience and commitment."

There's also the handy fact that engaging in play improves trust and connection, and makes us feel psychologically safe. "This, in turn, reduces our cortisol levels and improves our immune functioning," notes Masterson. "For this reason alone, alongside the many mentioned, if it were possible to measure joy, the wellness industry would already be doing it."

And, if you're wondering whether finding new hobbies that bring you joy will help you stick to a new routine, you're in luck. "We’re much more likely to repeat behaviours that feel rewarding," shares chartered counselling psychologist, Dr Kirstie Fleetwood-Meade. "Enjoyable movement gives us an immediate payoff, rather than making the reward entirely dependent on a future outcome like fat loss, fitness or hitting a step target," thanks to the pleasure hormone dopamine involved in this reward and motivation system.

7 Ways to Prioritise Joy For Enhanced Wellbeing

1. Try a Joy Audit

So, how can we make joy central to our wellness habits? Firstly, the experts advise a joy audit. This involves taking stock of your wellbeing habits and working out which of them you're doing for pure enjoyment, and which ones you're simply engaging with from a sense of duty and obligation, or—worse still—punishment.

"Ask yourself if you're doing something because you feel like you should, or if it actually brings something to your life," advises Taylor Swaine. "Think about taking time after a run to really think about how you felt before, during and after—it can even be as simple as making a commitment not to ask someone if they won a match or what their race time was."

Try asking yourself the following questions:

• How do I feel before, during and after it?
• Would I still do it if there were no health benefit or number attached to it?
• Does it give me energy or drain me?
• Does it make me feel more connected to my body, or more critical of it?
• Am I doing it because I value it, or because I feel I should?
• What forms of movement make me lose track of time?
• Keep a note of the habits that help—and consider ditching those that aren't enhancing your wellbeing.

2. Celebrate The Small Wins

Life doesn't always offer the opportunity to celebrate, so when it does—seize it.

"My joy-boosting mantra is to celebrate the small wins—they matter more than you think," says psychotherapist at Vita Health Group, Joseph Conway. "It’s important to recognise even the smallest achievements; whether it’s getting out of bed on a dreary morning, completing a soft workout, or ticking off a task from your to-do list, acknowledging these little victories can provide a sense of accomplishment and lift your spirits."

“Celebrate the progress, no matter how small, and remember that every small step is evidence that you’re moving forward and showing up for yourself.”

3. Engage With Random Acts of Kindness

Small acts of kindness can completely change someone's day, shares psychologist, author and wellbeing expert Suzy Reading. "Give someone a compliment or make them a cup of coffee," she tells MC UK. "Science shows that these gestures boost endorphins, creating a ‘helper’s high’ that benefits both you and the recipient.”

4. Spend Quality Time With Friends

Friendship is great for our (mental and physical) health—so take this as your sign to get that trip/night out/coffee date out of the group chat.

"Social connections are vital for maintaining your mental wellbeing," says Conway. “If you’re feeling low, don’t hesitate to lean on your network for support—even a short call or meet-up with someone who brings you joy can help.”

5. Take Up a Hobby

Studies show that hobbies have a positive impact on mental health, promoting higher levels of life satisfaction as well as reducing our risk of anxiety, depression and stress.

"Be creative," encourages integrative psychotherapist Alison Goolnik. "Daily acts of creativity can improve your mental and physical health. The act of creating, the sense of accomplishment and the fun of doing it, gives you a mood boost. So, make some time in your day for a creative activity like painting, drawing, cooking, gardening or whatever takes your fancy."

And remember this: self-care can get a bad rep, but taking small moments for your own wellbeing is important, Conway shares.

"Make sure to carve out time for activities that nurture your body and mind," he advises. "Take a relaxing bath, read a book, enjoy a hobby, or practice mindfulness or meditation. These moments of self-care can help you recharge and stay grounded, especially when you’re feeling low or overwhelmed.”

It’s fair to say the wellness space is looking a little crowded right now. On one side of the pond, you’ve got the biohackers measuring every imaginable variable, optimising their nutrition to the specific macro, and basing their workouts on bucketloads of livestreamed data. Everything is being monitored, from sleep scores, to step counts, to supplement stacks; it’s easy to feel behind if you’re not tracking.

But, quietly, another tribe has emerged: the soft living, intuitive, anti-optimisation clan. They claim we’ve reached peak optimisation; they resent the stream of wellness ads barraging us on our social feeds, reject the notion that workouts should be a slog, and deliberately prioritise listening to how they feel over what a wearable tells them.

As a Health Editor at a global publication renowned for its wellness content, neither are “right” or “wrong”. That’s always been the issue with wellness—we can’t seem to establish guidance from gospel, and don’t trust ourselves and our bodies enough to know what works.

That’s the conclusion I came to back in April, anyway, when I completed the 130th annual Boston Marathon. It was a race I’d trained to qualify for over nearly a decade; I knew above all else, I wanted to prioritise enjoyment over an arbitrary time or personal best.

I've worn my Garmin for my workouts for upwards of ten years now. But this was sometimes to my detriment—I can’t tell you the number of race photos I’ve seen of myself where my eyes are glued to my watch, obsessively doing the mental maths of what my splits will equate to. This came to a head during the Valencia Marathon in December 2025, where I became so fixated on the measurements on my wrist that I pushed myself way too hard, ignoring how I my body actually felt and ending the race in a world of pain and with a pretty sizeable abdominal strain.

For Boston, I knew something had to change. So while I used my Garmin to inform my training, come race day, I turned it around completely, opting to run to feel, rather than letting a watch tell me how to pace my race. The result was a five-minute personal best, and a Championship Qualifying time of 3:08.

The impact of that decision, physically and mentally, is gargantuan. It restored my faith in my body’s ability to do hard things, and it reaffirmed that, sometimes, a simpler approach is best. I’d spent years optimising every variable of my routine; what actually worked was far simpler.

Naturally, my interest in the intuitive, anti-optimisation way of life was piqued. Enter a summer spent chatting to top experts about just that: the role of tech in our lives and, further, how important it is to develop your ability to listen to your body to reach the ultimate flow state.

Which led me to the question: what would happen if we deliberately stopped optimising every little corner of our lives? If we learned to let go and embraced spontaneity, joy, and connection alongside self-improvement?

Keep scrolling for the quiet, unglamorous ways women are switching off from relentless self-improvement, from unplugged mornings to phone-free walks, and why many experts believe doing less might be the most radical wellness trend of the year. Because the problem isn’t data, technology or optimisation itself; it’s when the tools designed to help us become the authority over how we feel.

When Optimisation Becomes a Problem

I'll admit it: I over-optimised for the Valencia Marathon 2025. I obsessively tracked everything, from my sleep score, to my VO2 max, to my race day predictions in the months leading up to the race, pouring over the data and analysing it from all angles.

One small thing I forgot to optimise, though, was how I was feeling mentally about all that pressure to perform. I was so focused on living by the data that I never stopped to take stock of how I felt, leading to a pretty gnarly race.

It made me question so much—it's hard to understand a "failure" of a race when, on paper, you've done everything right. But after months of reflection and discussion with experts, I came to a clear conclusion: sometimes our constant pursuit of “better” takes us further away from our end goal—something this 2024 study proves, discovering a link between regular sleep-tracker users and greater preoccupation with their sleep than non-users.

As Anthony Fletcher, Certified Biomechanics Specialist, Sports Scientist and Co-founder of the run coaching company OneTrack, says, “Data is both a gift and a curse—when a measure becomes a target, it ceases to be a good measure.”

What Happens When Everything Becomes an Optimisation Opportunity?

It also made me reassess my priorities more broadly and outside of my running—optimisation has infiltrated every part of our lives, from careers to relationships, workouts to parenting. The issue isn't wanting to be better; it's the idea that every area of our lives needs to be continually improved, and if you aren't doing that, you're failing.

I'm Type A, through and through, and swear by organisation and optimisation in all areas of my life. The low-level hum of anxiety that comes with that has always been part of my psyche; I just accepted that it was who I am.

But this summer, I had a revelation. I let go a little. I stopped planning every aspect of my life down to the last second. I moved workouts around and, in some cases, missed them. I forgot to charge my Garmin. I went a few weeks without my supplements. I drank champagne every day on holiday. And spoiler alert: the low-level hum of anxiety finally lifted.

This isn't a case for throwing your wellness routine out the window; I'm a Health Editor, and looking after your mind and body is one of the most important things you can do. But it is a case for doing it in a way that fills your cup up, rather than emptying it, and being mindful of the ways you approach it, too (for example, this 2026 umbrella review concluded that those who wear fitness trackers were more active, but not necessarily happier, healthier, or better off in other areas, than those who didn't).

Anna Burgan, Founder of makeSpace, sums it up when we speak. “Even wellbeing can start to feel like another set of KPIs you're failing to meet. The trap for working parents is believing better optimisation will solve a capacity problem.”

The Case for Not Always Trying to Be Better

The beauty of taking a step back and assessing your wellness routine is that you can make the conscious decision to deep dive into what's working for you. It's not a rejection of ambition of self improvement, rather, the recognition that being on top of everything is humanly impossible all the time.

My Boston Marathon experience summed that up for me: I achieved a lifelong goal the second I took a step back.

As Lucy McGrath, Founder of Humanworks Consultancy, succinctly puts it, “If data fuels self-criticism instead of motivation, it’s not serving you.”

“At some point, there simply aren't more efficiencies to find. You don't need a better system; you need something to give," Burgan adds.

Don't Turn Anti-Optimisation Into Another Goal

The answer here isn't to stop optimising, ditch your wearables, and give up on a healthy approach altogether. Rather, it's to approach it with grace, let your hair down sometimes, and use optimisation as guidelines, rather than set rules.

One important caveat, though, and a point that all of the experts that I spoke to for this piece stressed, is the importance of not making anti-optimisation the next measurable to fixate on. Because the moment we start measuring how successfully we're switching off, we've simply recreated the same culture we're trying to escape.

“It'll just become another movement that people will identify with and become fanatical about,” sighs Fletcher.

“The minute switching off has a ‘streak,’ a ‘badge,’ or a ‘you did 7 days phone-free’ notification, it isn't rest anymore," agrees Burgan. “It's optimisation with a dopamine hit and a different job title.”

Remember: genuine restoration doesn’t have a scoreboard.

Your Body Isn't Another Project to Perfect

Wondering how to incorporate this into your day-to-day? Fletcher recommends identifying one thing you're currently the most invested in improving. Then, deliberately stop trying to improve it for a day.

The aim here isn’t to lose progress or motivation—it’s to get a sense of how it feels when you let go of the reins (likely uncomfortable at first—because, as Burgan puts it, “a number feels more objective than a feeling.”). “The experiment isn’t about the result of not optimising the thing; it’s about the fear of breaking the habit,” Flethcer goes on.

Ultimately, nothing (should!) change in a day. But the learnings from it should be ample, for that very reason, and reinforce your self-trust, which is an invaluable tool and guiding force. Anti-optimisation isn’t about ignoring useful information; it’s about remembering that data is only one source, and acknowledging that your intuition is one of the greatest tools you have. “Rebuilding that internal signal is the more valuable skill. It’s the one that still works when your phone’s battery is dead,” Burgan enthuses.

5 Women in My Life Share The Ways They Quietly Switching Off

Keen to learn the quiet, unglamorous ways women are switching off from relentless self-improvement? From unplugged mornings to phone-free walks, discover the go-tos of some of my health heroines, below.

1. Phone Free Mornings

“I get up early, earlier than I need to, and go to a coffee shop before work to read my book. I don’t tell anyone; I want this to be 20, 30, or 60 minutes that I just have to myself. I don’t look at my phone or my work phone—I’m simply offline, and it really helps me to centre myself.”

“When I have a lot on, or I know the day is going to be busy. I can be quite hard on myself. Giving myself some time helps me get through the day when I know the day will be about others or work.”

“It feels like my safe little haven because I don’t have to deal with annoying emails, or texts, or anything in the ‘real’ world that stresses me at the moment. When I leave, I feel like I’ve had a moment to breathe and can take on the day, whatever comes my way.”

2. Rule-Free Journalling

“I’m an avid diary keeper and scrapbooker. I quite literally own five notebooks, all for different things! But this year, for some reason, I started feeling this pressure to scrapbook “aesthetically” and even to journal “aesthetically”—to the point where it stopped feeling like play and started feeling more like another self-optimisation tool I had to use. If I didn’t do it, I felt like I was failing at being organised, productive, or my “best self”.”

“So now, every morning, I sit in complete silence for 30 minutes and just write. Whatever I’m feeling. Whatever thoughts or anxieties are sitting in my head. I just get them down. And I purposely make it messy.”

“I’m trying to go against that idea of perfection—that everything needs to be beautiful, organised, productive, or optimised—that I’d somehow stapled into my brain as a ‘must’.”

“It’s been really freeing to remember that journaling doesn’t have to look like anything. It just has to be something I escape into, for myself. No self-improvement in sight.”

3. Letting Yourself Be Seen As You Are

“A major thing I’ve aimed to optimise less this year is how I look. Allowing myself to not always look perfect—wearing my sweatpants, not shaving my armpits, going makeup-free, or letting the spot exist.”

“If I’m breaking out, my body is telling me it’s stressed in some way and needs to release, so instead of covering it up with makeup, I’m letting it be until it’s ready to pass.”

4. Social Media Free Time Blocks

“Setting boundaries with social media has been huge for me this year. Watching everything else that everyone is doing makes you feel as though you aren’t keeping up.”

“When I switch off from that echo chamber for the first and last hour or two of the day, and replace it with a book or a walk, I feel such a significant shift in my mood; it’s actually quite crazy.”

5. Regular Therapy

“Going to therapy every week is my anti-optimisation. It’s private, the antithesis of glamorous and not at all performative—an hour where I can be my ugliest self in how I look and feel, and yet I’m still accepted.”

“It’s the one thing that has actually shifted the dial on me feeling enough as I am, regardless of how many electrolytes I’ve drunk, PBs I’ve run, and no matter what my weight on the scales says or my relationship status implies.”

The Quiet Power in Allowing Yourself to Do Less

A closing thought: Lifelong health, wellness, and longevity aren’t about the perfect data scores, macronutrients or treatments. Life is about balance, but the goal is a healthy, strong, able body—to live well, for longer. “Learning how your body works is a lifelong pursuit, and there is a lot yet to be understood,” shares Fletcher.

So next time you’re stressing about a sleep score or crawling a menu for a calorie count, remember this from Burgan: “Genuine restoration doesn’t have a scoreboard.”

Sometimes we're so fixated on the nuts and bolts of an outfit and following easy outfit formulas (especially when short on time) that we forget how much impact a well-chosen add-on can have on the overall wow factor of a look. Not this Autumn. On the runway, it was the finishing touches, as they might once have been called, that were impossible to ignore – and are ultimately what help us develop our own personal style. These "power pieces" ranged from the practical – layering combinations that mean you don't need to buy anything, but simply reconsider how to wear two garments together – to the decidedly playful (handbags shaped like amphibians and earrings designed to dazzle).

So, if you've been feeling a little lost and, instead of overhauling your entire wardrobe, are looking for small ways to buy into new season trends and develop your own personal style, consider this your guide to Autumn/Winter's low-effort styling hacks that will make every outfit better.

The Autumn/Winter 2026 'Power Pieces' That Will Make Every Outfit Better

Anti "It" Bags

The "It" bag looks a little different for Autumn/Winter 2026. At Louis Vuitton, it was shaped—or whittled—into a portable wooden shed, with miniature "logs" lining its sloping roof and a mere pentagon of monogrammed leather. Dior's novelty bag was a snap-closure purse that wouldn't have looked out of place on a lily pad with its webbed "feet" and frog green velvet. Givenchy's bag might have resembled a bag, but it was otherwise festooned, with fringed and floral bag charms that covered one side like a living wall. A dinky satin drawstring pouch that dangles from one wrist feels like the easiest way to do it, especially during party season when practicality isn't the main priority.

Corsages

A corsage used to be a byword for a rather demure flower. It's now discovered its dramatic side, however. At Chanel, a corsage of jet black feathers was the jaunty addition to new-gen tweed jackets. Altuzarra moved away from flora altogether, creating a fringed corsage that looked vaguely botanical, sure, but certainly not demure. Pin yours onto the lapel of a tailored blazer or military-inspired jacket for instant flair.

Belts

Once an accessory designed to hold up one's trousers as opposed to making a statement of intent, belts are becoming the main-character of many outfits. Celine's medallion belt is practically a collector's item (both the buckle and leather were rendered in red this Autumn/Winter). Miu Miu's ritzy, glitzy belts were actually worn outside belt loops—a subversive take somewhat tempered by the sheer amount of rhinestones. Valentino, meanwhile, turned sashes into jewel-toned waist-cinchers. What could be more elegant after-dark?

Clever Layering

How you wear an item of clothing is just as meaningful as the garment itself for Autumn/Winter, with clever layering combinations that made the most of every component. At Tom Ford, this meant a transparent pencil skirt that revealed the pairing of a striped button-down and lace stockings. Lanvin heroed the turtleneck, meanwhile, using a fine-gauge style to add colour (not to mention an extra layer of cosiness) to several looks. Finally, Emilia Wickstead, who popped a denim shirt under a tweedy dress—adding chic to one garment and cool to the other.

Pendant Necklaces

An enamel tulip; an articulated fish, just two examples of the pendants that are guaranteed to become cult add-ons this Autumn/Winter (Dries Van Noten also dispensed with a blouse to give its pendant, which is already sold out online, a background of bare skin). Dangling a few inches short of the navel in most cases—and incorporating bohemian tassels and unexpected charms—they're the ideal partner for high-necked blouse (very Chloé-coded) or a lived-in suede blazer.

Statement Earrings

No power piece has aged as well as the power earring, an '80s staple that was a resounding trend this Autumn/Winter. How you wear your hair will play into which lobe decorations you'll lean towards, although it has to be said—all suit fuss-free styles. Marni's polished orbs look particularly elegant with a pulled-back low ponytail. Saint Laurent's crystallised birds, with the quite the wingspan, also suit a simple yet effective bun. Chanel's paste and pearl drop earrings, meanwhile, might pair nicely with a chignon but, otherwise, you can either wear a cocktail dress or a starched white shirt.

Brooches

Brooches have long dusted off their old-fashioned identity. The way to ensure yours reads as "fashion" as opposed to "fusty", however, is with its placement. Instead of a lapel or breast pocket, opt for a lesser-spotted position. You could fasten yours around the laces of a sturdy brogue. Or use it to decorate a felted ham brim or the hem of a knee-length pleated skirt for a modern take on a traditional kilt pin. And don't feel cornered into adopting a "one and done" mantra. A constellation of brooches, perhaps falling just so down the side of a sweater or adorning the loop of a scarf, is a winning approach this Autumn.

After a summer of heatwave after heatwave, it feels like we’re not just ready for Autumn/Winter 26—we’ve earned it. Of course, ironically, Marie Claire’s editors first saw these collections in February, dreaming of warmer temperatures and yet beadily eyeing the coats, boots, trends and styling tricks unfolding in the fashion capitals of New York, London, Milan and Paris.

It was a season of two halves in some ways, with a lot of “maxxing” in terms of fabrics (velvet!) and colours (red!), but also plenty of polish that spoke to a wardrobe that rises above anything flash in the pan. Instead, the goal is discernment—and having the confidence to dress like yourself for yourself. Whether you’re feeling drawn for the first time in ages to a classic print, or want to switch up your waistline or tailoring or silhouette (or all three!), keep reading as we visit some of the key moments of this season.

Hot Sauce

If you think red isn’t your colour, prepare to be convinced otherwise as designers double down on the colour this season. It was everywhere for AW26, largely chilli-hot but with a few shakes of slightly darker Ketchup. In his last collection for Alaïa, Pieter Mulier designed a long-sleeved column dress that draped its wearer, Mariacarla Boscono, in the primary colour from clavicle to ankle. At Bottega Veneta, the catwalk was a plush vermillion carpet, which provided the perfect surface for one particular dress—a mohair number that resembled fiery strands of saffron. Gucci, meanwhile, created an outfit for the 2026 “femme fatale”, a polo shirt paired with very tight pants, both in hot-sauce red. A dollop might not be enough this season. Instead, dare to wear a red dress, trousers or pair of knee-high boots. Trust us, you’ll raise the temperature of every outfit.

Polished Folk

Folk-singer-turned-glamazon seemed to be the mood at many houses, offering a new wardrobe for the bohemian soul. At Dior, this included a dressing-gown style coat, louche in proportion with a rug-like pattern and pile, worn over a white shirt, indigo jeans and flat suede boots, as well as a pair of balloon pants whose surface was made of individual flowerheads. The polished folk theme continued at Givenchy, where a black gown was stitched with poppies but also given a metre-long fringe of loose threads. Finally, Gucci presented not the ingénue but the doyenne version of folk, where a floral knee-length skirt was given the “sciura” treatment with a faux-fur coat, monogrammed tights, horsebit mules and bug-eyed sunglasses.

Spotted

Just like a leopard can’t change its spots, the print will always be a commanding presence on the catwalk. When Meryll Rogge made her debut at Marni, she lent into the brand’s wearable eclecticism; clashing prints, colours and textures in one look that was topped with a single-breasted, just-above-knee-length, leopard-print coat that immediately went on many an editor’s wish list (ditto the leopard pencil skirt paired with snowy tights at Jil Sander). At the more fantastical end, meanwhile, was Givenchy, who combined the classic spot with corsetry to brilliant effect (psst: Sandra Bullock has already worn it).

Mod(ern) Suits

Retro suiting was given a modern flavour at Acne Studios, Celine and Louis Vuitton, with details such as split-hem (and skin-tight) trousers, kick flares that swung above the ankles and blown-up buttons. Fresh takes on tried-and-tested silhouettes were also spotted at Prada (whose trouser suit was androgynous in cut) and Proenza Schouler (whose blazer was cinch-waisted and fastened with two single buttons). Last but not least Emilia Wickstead. The label might be known for swoon-worthy dresses, not to mention bridalwear, but one of the collection’s most thrilling looks was nothing more, nothing less than a trouser suit, with perfectly cool proportions that made us yearn for back-to-school September.

Drop It

The waistline on many catwalks wasn’t in the usual spot but several centrimetres—or maybe even inches—south. That’s right, the drop waist hasn’t been this popular since the early 20th century. Lanvin presented a new-gen flapper dress—a delicately beaded sheath that one could quite easily pair with jeans in 2026 (a year after the centenary of The Great Gatsby). At Marni and Chanel, meanwhile, a belt fastened around the hips gave an extra point of interest to looks that could easily be workwear (Chanel’s drop-waisted skirt feels like a particularly fresh take on the pleated office midi). It might not be as classically “flattering” as the hourglass, but why not throw your waistline a curveball this season?

Countryfile

The kind of coat you can wear in the city, sure, but more importantly in the countryside—on morning trudges, afternoon walks and any ramble in between—got an impressive showing on the catwalks, with many designers bringing their customers to pastures new (or as yet unexplored). The Burberry trench coat, for example, was "Countryfile-d", with a heavy wool check in burgundy, plum and black, not to mention leather epaulettes, wrist straps and a waist belt. Chloé’s boho-goddess will be trading diaphanous chiffon layers for a more practical alternative in autumn—a plaid cape that wouldn’t look out of place on a moor. Argyle appeared at Khaite, houndstooth at Dior, tartan at Acne Studios, Fair Isle at Marni. In short—and not forgetting a gorgeous duffle at Dries Van Noten—clothes made to be worn in a green and pleasant land are what’s in season.

Layer Up

There was a pile-it-on approach to AW26, with outfit configurations that weren’t one-dimensional but multilayered. Prada delivered one of the best “aha!” moments of recent seasons when it sent out the same models only to have them walk again with an item of clothing removed to expose what had been lying underneath the whole time. We know that genius lies in the styling, which made this collection a breath of fresh air, not to mention evidence that you can layer your way to a great wardrobe. Elsewhere at Erdem, sequinned bralets were fitted over sheer turtlenecks. Lanvin posited a solution to autumn workwear, providing sophisticated coverage in the form of a tomato polo neck layered under a grey shirt, finishing the look with long suede gloves that disappeared up the sleeves. A different version of more is more that we can get on board with.

Very Demure

After a “hot girl summer” in the UK—no seriously, it’s expected to be declared as the hottest since records began in 1884, according to the BBC—September is already embracing the kind of hemlines, not to mention waist-cinched silhouettes, that are suited to cooler temperatures (thank goodness!). Is it the advent of “sensible woman autumn”? Or is it part of the return to a ladylike form of dress that we saw at labels such as Chanel, Dior and Gucci, all of which sent out their version of a two-piece that doesn’t get as much air-time in office wardrobes as it should: the skirt suit. It was new-gen tweed at Chanel; single-breasted ‘90s at Gucci, but both skirts, incidentally, hit the centre line of the knee cap, meaning that a heel is almost mandatory (and the hyper-feminine, boss-lady appeal is in-built).

Soft Power

This season was plush for want of a better word—and nothing encapsulates those five letters more than velvet, a fabric whose hand-feel is fabulousness personified. The colour palette added richness—gemstone shades like citrine (Alaïa) and garnet (Balenciaga). Having said that, the most elegant way to wear velvet might be in black or and midnight blue (shoutout to Conner Ives, whose collection included a velvet gown in an inky shade). Calvin Klein’s black velvet trouser suit played with proportions—wide shoulders and straight-up-and-down pants—to thoroughly modernise the fabric. The velvet sofa might have been and gone but the suit still has legs.

Checked In

The check print has a rigid formation but, trust us, there’s nothing square about its appearance for Autumn/Winter 26. Tolu Coker’s checked skirt suit—sculpted and cropped—was an excellent case in point. Loewe’s yellow-and-red shift dress had the naughty but nice flavour of Cher Horowitz. Chanel took a maximalist approach, updating its tweed jacket with a grid pattern made of a luminous weave in shades of black, yellow, pink and red. It shouldn’t have worked on paper but it couldn’t have been more successful, proving that, when it comes to checks, there’s no need to think too closely about balances.