Remember when fitness trackers were just clunky gym gadgets? Not anymore. From Apple’s Hermès collabs to Karachiites rocking smart watches to weddings, it’s a wild mix of style, tech, and lifestyle aspirations. But are we healthier or just hyped? With his signature wit and deep insights, Bukhari unravels the allure, the myths, and the subtle pressures of this growing trend. Curious about the intersection of fashion and functionality?
It’s nearly impossible to walk through an airport, a mall, or even a neighbourhood café in Karachi without spotting someone tracking their steps, monitoring their heart rate, or calories burned. Wearable health tech has seized the cultural zeitgeist. What started as a clunky rubber band a decade ago, has evolved into sleek, multi-functional accessories, marketed as the ultimate health accessory. Devices that used to scream “gym rat” or “fitness freak” are now firmly ensconced in the mainstream, sold as essential tools for anyone who’s anyone in the new health-obsessed culture. But is wearable tech really improving our lives, or just cleverly marketed?
My first brush with wearable tech was while watching the movie Spy Kids. Those gadget-laden watches could do anything — track enemies, send messages, even blow things up. I thought they were very cool. But when similar devices started appearing in real life, I couldn’t help but find them…a bit ‘dorky.’ Well, fitness wasn’t on my radar, and frankly, these early devices looked better on a nerdy gamer than anyone cool with a sense of style.
When Apple launched its first smartwatch in 2015, most fashion critics (and fashion enthusiasts like myself) were sceptical. The idea of a fitness tracker crossing into style territory seemed downright laughable. After all, no one was pining for a hunk of rubber and plastic on their wrist. But fast-forward a few years, and the wearable tech landscape has become as competitive as luxury handbags. Now, Apple’s smartwatch doesn’t just track your steps; it offers personalised faces, designer straps, and collaborations with names like Hermès, a brand not exactly known for throwing its logo on any old device. Louis Vuitton and Gucci, too, have leapt onto the bandwagon, creating watch straps and custom designs for these “must-have” gadgets. It’s fashion and technology locked in a marketing embrace, transforming the wearable from a tool into a status symbol.
Let’s face it: wearable health tech wasn’t born in a fashion lab. Early fitness trackers were blocky, awkward, and more at home on a 5K track than on the arm of a Vogue editor (Yes, Anna Wintour now wears an Apple Watch). However, brands quickly saw potential in the health-obsessed and style-conscious consumer who wanted the look as much as the functionality. Now, these devices are as much about the fashion statement as they are about counting calories burned. The once-bulky wearable is now sleek, customisable, and highly exclusive if you can pay for it. Brands like Fitbit, too, offer luxe editions, and Garmin, long known for functional devices, has collaborated with Fēnix to produce high-end sports watches that wouldn’t be out of place at a Michelin-starred restaurant. I wonder if brands like Sana Safinaz, Hussain Rehar, or Khaadi could come up with bands.
Of course, the positioning is as strategic as it is lucrative. Apple’s partnership with Hermès didn’t just elevate the tech; it extended Hermès’ reach to a younger, tech-savvy audience willing to drop a few extra hundred dollars on a designer strap. In the fashion world, collaborations like these are gold mines, packaging the illusion of wellness with high design. It’s a clear play for brands that want a slice of the booming wellness market. With aspirational ads featuring everyone from supermodels to Silicon Valley execs, they’ve created a glossy, curated version of health—one that looks great in an Instagram feed. These days, in Pakistan’s big cities, Karachi, Lahore, and Islamabad, wearables have crept into people’s daily wardrobes. Karachiites wear them everywhere, even to weddings, while Lahoris stick to branded luxury watches.
The marketing narrative around these devices is, if we’re being honest, incredibly persuasive. The message is clear: you’re not just buying a gadget; you’re buying a better life. Brands don’t sell fitness trackers; they sell empowerment and self-optimisation. They know consumers are hungry for control over their health, and with wearables, they dangle that carrot. We’re told we’ll be healthier, smarter, better versions of ourselves if we just wear this little device that tells us to “breathe” every so often. That sense of empowerment, packaged with a bit of data-driven anxiety, has become a cultural currency.
Like any accessory, these wearables carry a signal. Apple’s high-priced watches claim top prestige, but Fitbits and Garmins have a dedicated following too. And while it’s far from an elitist trend, with Samsung and Google offering solid Android options, there are also budget choices like Xiaomi and Zero Lifestyle, catering to anyone keen on tracking steps without losing a month’s salary.
But this empowerment narrative is hardly airtight. Behind every sleek strap and curated metric lies a subtle message that we’re never doing quite enough. Walk 10,000 steps? That’s good, but maybe next time you’ll walk 15,000. Only slept seven hours last night? Your wearable will tell you exactly how much you’ve slacked. In essence, wearable brands are leveraging consumers’ fears of inadequacy, pushing them to rely on metrics they often don’t fully understand and may even misinterpret. And while there’s value in having real-time access to data, there’s a real danger in obsessing over numbers that may or may not reflect genuine health outcomes.
While wearable health devices do offer some useful insights, let’s not pretend they’re solving health issues. Sleep tracking, for example, is one feature often marketed as revelatory. But many experts are quick to point out that wearables can’t truly track sleep stages with accuracy. The same goes for heart rate monitoring and calorie burn estimates. Research indicates that wearables frequently miscalculate calorie expenditure and heart rate readings can fluctuate widely depending on activity and device placement. These metrics might help users stay mindful, but they’re far from reliable.
The industry’s most pervasive myth might be the idea that “closing the rings” or hitting arbitrary metrics like steps you take guarantees of wellness. There’s a sense of performative health to it all, where hitting numbers is conflated with actually being healthy. But health isn’t an app, and the body doesn’t quantify its gains so conveniently. A heart rate check here, a calorie count there — these are hardly the full picture of wellbeing. True health is more complex, nuanced, and personal than any device can capture, and the hype around wearables often glosses over this reality.
As technology advances, the wearable market is only going to grow and brands are eager to keep it fresh, trendy, and exclusive. The future of wearables could soon include everything from glucose monitors for non-diabetics to mood-tracking AI, further blurring the line between medical tool and lifestyle accessory. And for companies, there’s no better market than one that promises to solve every personal health concern under the sun, all while looking like a statement piece. But let’s be clear: many of these new claims are little more than fluff, with no scientific basis or FDA approval to back them up.
This fusion of wellness and fashion, however, speaks more to the aesthetics of health than its substance. In essence, wearables have become modern talismans for a society that equates data with empowerment and wellness with a trend. They don’t simply offer metrics—they offer an image, a narrative of self-care and self-optimisation that consumers are eager to embrace. But like any high-fashion item, the value is as much about the story you’re told as it is about the utility you’re buying. To me they’re accessories first, health aids second. They cater to our desire for status, image and security, and if they make the wearer a little healthier along the way, well, that’s a bonus.