Why being boring is the newest status symbol

Embracing early nights. Cancelling plans in favour of reclining on the sofa, buried under a blanket. Extolling the virtues of your hi-tech blender (perfect for smoothies and soups!) or your new vacuum cleaner (great suction!). Not so long ago, loudly and proudly indulging in any of the above might have earned you a reputation as a bit of a snooze. But in 2025, that’s far from the case. If once we boasted about packed schedules and exhausting lifestyles, that cult of busyness has been unseated by a newer, more powerful imperative: the cult of boring. Forget burning the candle at both ends: it’s all about making sure said candle has a lovely scent, lighting it in your cosy home, and taking a moment to bask in the glow of how wholesome you are.

Broadcasting our own dullness has acquired an unlikely social capital, with being boring emerging as a topsy turvy status symbol. A calendar full to bursting with various work and social occasions was previously the ultimate humblebrag, a way of proving to yourself and others just how in demand and indispensable you were. Now, though, there’s a certain cachet attached to opting out altogether (and vociferously letting everyone else know that you’re doing so).  Before, on a typical 1 January, my Instagram feed tended to be backlogged with other people’s raucous house parties, fancy meals out, group holidays, even the chilly queue for a surge-priced taxi. But this year, it was flooded with pyjamas, grainy shots of Jools Holland and talk of “just having a quiet one”. Oh, and plenty of self-deprecating comments about how “boring” this NYE had panned out. Then came the smug follow-up posts about waking up refreshed and revitalised – because, let’s face it, part of the joy of shouting about your own tediousness is the slight sense of superiority that comes with it.

That’s not to say that I’m immune from performative boringness. Far from it. At 32, in many ways I am probably a textbook nouveau bore. These days I spend more time doing Pilates than at the pub (there it is again, that slight brag that always wriggles out whenever you try to be self-deprecating about being humdrum). I keep banging on about the SodaStream I got for Christmas (evangelising about an at-home water carbonation system? Deeply, worryingly tedious behaviour).

First, I thought the lure of the dull was just a time of life thing, an inevitable part of the march towards maturity and middle age. But, despite all the loud chatter about “brat summer” last year, younger people are embracing their inner bore too. “Choosing ‘staying in’ versus ‘going out’ is something that’s not only understandable but even expected as you age and take on more responsibilities,” says Joanna Hughston, head of marketing at The Goat Agency, an influencer marketing company. “The difference now, though, is that, particularly since the pandemic, we’re seeing this type of behaviour being celebrated much more among younger people in their twenties and late teens.”

In fact, this generation has “reappropriated” the term boring to be “anything but” an insult, according to Becca Hutson, editor at Gen Z-focused publisher The News Movement. “Being at home, protecting your peace and having time for yourself have all become the ultimate status symbols for Gen Z,” she says. “Whereas Millennials and Gen Xers would wear busy schedules, burnout and weekend-long benders as badges of honour, we are seeing a shift across our audience towards a quieter, dare we say boring lifestyle.”

Flying the flag for this new norm is a subset of influencers celebrating a “clean” or “cosy” aesthetic: those “who create content around pretty mundane activities like self-care, getting ready for bed routines, [and] cosy nights in” as Hughston puts it. Often their choices are framed “through the language of self-optimisation”, adds Elly Lau, a behavioural analyst at consumer insights agency Canvas8. For example, “going to bed early and having a small circle of friends” becomes a sign of “intentional living” rather than a potential shortcoming or insecurity; they “ascribe an aspirational value to the mundane”, and might give others with similar lives “a kind of social validation”.

Becca Hutson, The News Movement

The pandemic was certainly a major catalyst for this sea change. It prompted many of us to slow down and stop prioritising busyness above all. We got used to more nights in and took on hobbies we might otherwise have written off as too dull or time-consuming. Behavioural scientist Lea Karam of Behave believes that lockdown reorientated us towards “home-based comforts, making ‘boring’ feel normal and desirable”. Plus, in a more existential sense, many of us felt pretty powerless in the face of a huge global event, something that made us crave predictability, Karam adds, as “boringness offers a sense of control”.

Then we emerged bleary-eyed from lockdown, uncertain about the rules of socialising and facing down a major cost of living crisis that has seen the price of food, energy, rent and other basic amenities skyrocket. If the vast majority of your income is going towards your rent or your mortgage, is it any wonder that you might feel compelled to stay in and admire your own four walls? And then there’s the stark fact that affordable places to go out and socialise are few and far between. “Going out and staying out is harder than ever,” says Hutson. “Not only is it prohibitively expensive for many, but with late-night venues closing at an alarming rate each week, it’s increasingly difficult to find places to go.” Perhaps we’re trying to glamourise behaviour that we’ve been pushed into by factors beyond our control. Karam describes this as “masking external constraints with personal empowerment”.

For some, self-identifying as boring might be a way of “shield[ing] ourselves from societal expectations and pressure”, says psychotherapist Susie Masterson. “By making a declaration of dullness, we are signalling our freedom from the need for external validation,” she adds. “We are showing that we are content with our routine, responsible or more introverted lifestyle.” She repeatedly hears that her clients are embracing this side of life “due to a backlash [against] the overstimulation and hyper-performative world of social media”. In an era of information overload, perhaps paring back our lives gives us a chance to recharge.

Joanna Hughston, The Goat Agency

That’s all well and good, but sometimes it might also become “a way of showing superiority, signalling that we are beyond the pressure of being interesting or exciting, which itself could be viewed as a new form of social capital”. It’s this particular re-framing of “boring” that leaves me conflicted about this phenomenon. Sometimes it can feel like “humblebores” are just artfully trying to make others feel bad about following a different path, implying that their lives are so perfect that they don’t need any spurious forms of distraction.

And yet, Masterson says, “using the term ‘boring’ can be a deflection or defensive move to mask vulnerability”. After all, saying it first means it can’t be used against you. Similarly, Hughston fears that “we are putting ‘boring’ on a pedestal and that it is possibly being used as a defence mechanism or excuse”. She notes that loneliness is on the rise: according to the Office for National Statistics, around a quarter (27 per cent) of UK adults reported feeling lonely always, often or some of the time.

Perhaps, she adds, “we’re aspiring to ‘boring’ to hide the fact that many people are nervous to step outside of their comfort zones”. TV presenter and podcaster Fearne Cotton seemed to touch upon something similar when she shared an Instagram post late last year. “If you have followed me on here for a while you’ll have probably heard me say how much I hate parties, going out, etc,” she wrote. “This has been something I’ve told myself to create a form of protection from feeling scared. In the last six months something has shifted and I’m starting to let myself have fun again.” Lessening “the tight grip” she’d had on herself has, she explained, “only benefitted me and those around me”.

Not feeling awkward about turning down invitations when you need to? Making time for hobbies that aren’t stereotypically cool? Knowing that you function so much better on eight hours of sleep? These are all great things. Getting to grips with your “boring” side is only a problem if you start believing that doing so gives you some kind of moral superiority – or if you begin cutting yourself off from connections that might nourish you, and become too strict with yourself. Ultimately, Masterson says, “life is about finding a balance of connection and regulation” – knowing when to slow down, and when to push yourself. January is as good an excuse as any to indulge in the latter. On which note, I need to hunt down a new carbonating canister for my SodaStream.