Before a single component was sourced, we had to go out and listen.
We wanted to know what it actually feels like to hold a life together in 2026.
We quickly realized that most tech companies (big and small) have missed the mark. There is a massive gap between those building wearables and the people wearing them. Traditional tech builds gadgets to track your data; it fails to understand the end consumer’s true needs.
So we talked to people. A lot of them. And we listened in a way that felt, at times, more like therapy than product research.
This is what we heard.
The Miro board
As we build, we’ve been mapping every conversation on a Miro board, a classic Stanford d.school approach. Every interview becomes a digital sticky note. We plot our potential users across two specific psychological axes: System Satisfaction vs. Anxiety Level.
When you look at the clusters, it becomes clear that we aren’t just building for “tech enthusiasts.” We are building for two very human conditions.
The first is anxiety. The person who has a system - maybe a good one - but lives in constant fear that it’s about to fail them. They’re not disorganized. They’re just aware of how much is riding on everything going right. One missed transfer, one dead phone battery, one moment of distraction, and the whole thing unravels. They don’t need a better app. They need a safety net that’s always on them.
The second is friction. The person whose system works perfectly at their desk and completely breaks down everywhere else. In the car. In the shower. Mid-conversation. On a walk when the best idea of the month shows up uninvited. Their problem isn’t discipline or intention. It’s that the moment the idea arrives and the moment they can actually capture it are almost never the same moment.
Two conditions. One gap.
What people actually said
We expected to hear about apps and workflows. We heard something closer to confession.
There’s a woman who sends herself text messages so she doesn’t forget things. Not as a hack - as her entire system. She reads through her unread texts to find out what she was supposed to do that week.
We asked everyone the same question: when does your system fail you?
Most people paused. Then laughed. Then told us about the parking ticket that doubled. The birthday wish that came two days late. The appointment they thought was Tuesday but was Monday. The package that sat by the door for eleven days while they walked past it twice a day.
Not catastrophic failures. Just the quiet, constant friction of a life that’s slightly harder than it needs to be.
Here’s what they actually said:
“Tired of letting people down.”
This one came from someone who, by every measure, had her life together. Organized. Reliable. On top of things. And still - that was the line that hit hardest.
Because it’s never really about the task. It’s about what the missed task says about you.
“I know a system isn’t working if I have to repeat a step.”
This person admitted her entire personal system is one long repeated step. Notes to texts to calendar to Google Doc back to notes. The same information, transferred four times, just so she doesn’t lose it.
She knew. She kept doing it anyway. Because the alternative - forgetting - felt worse.
“My notes app is just a graveyard of things I meant to do.”
This landed in almost every conversation. Different words, same feeling. Dozens of unlabeled notes. Fragments of intentions. Things that felt urgent at 11pm and completely foreign by morning.
The notes weren’t the problem. The notes were the symptom.
“Best creativity happens in inconvenient places - driving, cooking, the shower. Typing is impossible when the mind moves that fast.”
And yet. The tools we have require two hands, a screen, and enough stillness to open an app. None of which are available when the ideas actually show up.
“Any technology I have, I want it to assist. Not subsume.”
This came from someone who’d thought carefully about what she actually wanted from a tool. Not a second brain. Not a replacement for her own judgment. Just something that works alongside her - and stays quiet when she doesn’t need it.
What this changed for us
Every conversation sharpened our vision.
We went in thinking we were validating assumptions, but we were constantly surprised. We didn’t just find out who we’re building for - we found the exact words for the relief we’re trying to create.
The biggest takeaway? Talk to your customers every single day. These conversations gave us our language and reminded us exactly why we started. See you in the next update!
Elena
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