Disconnection: now anxiety-free, but at a price.

We all know the joy of disconnection. The illicit thrill of leaving your phone behind on a stroll, or powering it off on a date (and turning it back on quickly if you need an Uber outta there). But we all also know that persistent nagging voice in the back of our heads that asks, ‘What if my client calls? What if my kids need me? What if I win the lottery?’

As a joke, one of my favorite strategists once gave me a No-Phone- a perfectly weighted piece of plastic designed to fool your hands and brain into thinking you are indeed holding a blankie smartphone, and all is well with the world. It even has a mirror on one side for a perfectly technology-free selfie. I found this a particularly amusing gift from my young planner as, unlike him, I spent my formative years without a phone. When we went out as teenagers in 1980’s England and wanted to connect with friends, all we needed was a) a mountain of 10p coins so heavy it would rip holes in your 501s, b) to find a red telephone box without urine on the floor or chewing gum on the handset, and with a full directory on a string that hadn’t been vandalized, and c) a patient parent who didn’t mind taking and passing on endless messages.

Then, when I went to work in London, the height of power was to be senior enough to be allowed to check out the (singular) agency phone - a brick status symbol so large it came with its own briefcase, and you had to guarantee a month's salary as a deposit for it. Its battery life was 30 mins, but what a 30 mins. 30 mins of self-importance strutting around the client car park as you searched for a signal and crowed through static to the creative team that you’d sold their script.

From there, there was a series of dumb phones that all gave you a thumb-ache from texting, but you still did it because it was novel; then the Motorola that not only made you feel like Captain Kirk every time you opened it but also proudly signaled to the world that you were not wedded to your job like those ‘Crackberry’ addicts, until, of course, the iPhone launch made devotees, and then slaves, of the best of us.

And now the line between work and play is gone; the expectation is that you are reachable at all times, and in the face of this, people are seeking division again. That’s why this weekend The Meadow caught my eye. It’s a product of the times whose product page screams ‘No social media! No browsing! No feeds!’

The Meadow! It’s enough to make you want to roll in freshly cut grass! Only $499! Record scratch. $499 is a steep price to pay for a dumb-ish phone, but then again, when sold as a way to reconnect with reality or exist anxiety-free in the world (or at least after hours), maybe it’s a bargain?