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.
