.png)
The Plateau: Why Mobile Phones Just Don’t Excite Me Anymore
- Cyrus Graesslin
- Aug 20, 2025
- 5 min read
Remember when every new phone launch felt like Christmas morning? When unboxing your latest gadget meant unwrapping not just a device, but a radically new experience? When the words “Nokia,” “Sony Ericsson,” and “Motorola” were battling it out not for market share, but for our pure, unfiltered geek joy?
I do. Because I lived it.
Back then, phones weren’t just slabs of glass differentiated by a slightly better camera or a slightly smaller notch - they were statements. They had character. They came in banana shapes and brushed metal bodies, with sliders and swivels and satisfying clicky buttons that made texting in class feel like covert ops.
Today? It’s a sea of rounded rectangles. Spec bumps. Camera count inflation. Marketing fluff. Same, same… just with more (or perhaps less) megapixels.
A Trip Down Mobile Memory Lane
Let’s rewind. My first mobile love? The Nokia 5110. That tank of a phone, with its swappable faceplates and antenna stub, was more indestructible than my willpower at an all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet. It was the kind of phone you could drop off a building and still make a call from afterwards (a distinction that would eventually become the defining feature of the legendary Nokia 3110 that would release years later).
Then came the Nokia 7110 - the closest I could get to the Matrix phone without a Hollywood budget. That glorious spring-loaded slide was useless functionally but everything emotionally. Oh, and it was the first device with Snake II. When I eventually upgraded to the Ericsson T68i, it was like stepping into the future. Full color screen. Bluetooth. It was the first time I felt like I was truly holding the future in my hands. Then came the Nokia 6670 - a camera phone that wasn't particularly popular due to its asymmetrical design, but it holds sentimental value: both my wife and I had that phone when we met. One of the first signs that we were, quite literally, on the same frequency. To this day, we still have the same taste in everything, quite literally.
Next up: the revolutionary Sony Ericsson P900i - my first real touchscreen. Stylus included, of course. That ultimately led to the iMate K-Jam - because I wanted to distinguish myself from the "common folk." Eventually I gravitated back to Camp Nokia when they released their 9300 Communicator, which made me feel like a hustling Wall Street executive, even though I was just using it to schedule dinner shifts and text my wife unnaturally long 6-page SMS messages.
And then came the Palm Treo - the device I still miss most. It was the right size, the right keyboard, the right everything. It just screamed COOL to me, and I fondly recall sporting it in a belt holster to peacock my tech superiority. I’d still use one today if I could find a battery that held a charge.
Somewhere along the way, I flirted with the Nokia N90 — my first megapixel monster — and eventually wrapped up the era with the Nokia 6300, a sleek little candy bar that marked the end of my dumbphone days.
Then Came the Slabs
The first iPhone was a revelation. It redefined what a phone could be. Touchscreen, apps, fluid UI — it was like holding the future. But that was 2007.
We’re now 18 years and dozens of “Pro Max Ultra Plus” variants later… and what do we have?
Higher screen resolution (which I can’t distinguish unless I’m squinting 3 inches from the display).
More cameras and variations of positioning all of which have become the only real way to tell someone had the latest and greatest.
Notches… pinholes… under-screen sensors that functionally don't wildly differ from their prehistoric Touch ID ancestors.
Marginal chip improvements that might shave off 0.2 seconds when opening the weather app and give you bragging rights at the next Geekbench convention.
And yet, every year, we watch the same ritual unfold - people obsessing over spec bumps and benchmark charts like they’re deciphering ancient prophecies. A 10% faster chip. A slightly brighter screen. Whining about 60hz refresh rates. A camera sensor that performs 3% better in low light if you pixel-peep. These are marginal improvements that sound great on keynote slides and YouTube reviews but have zero bearing on actual day-to-day usage for 99% of people.
Even Apple’s latest so-called “innovation” - the new camera control button - already feels like a gimmick doomed for the recycling bin. Rumor has it it’s being scrapped entirely in the iPhone 18, proving yet again that not everything labeled "pro" is actually progress.
Gone, but not Forgotten
Amidst the first decade of iPhone obsession, there was one often glorious detour: the BlackBerry. The only other device I’ve used as much as an iPhone in the last 15 years - and with good reason. At a time when I’d finally reached the apex of the corporate ladder and needed a device I could trust in airport lounges, boardrooms, and bumpy taxi rides, the BlackBerry was an absolute game changer.
That tactile keyboard? Chef’s kiss. BBM? A cult unto itself. Battery life that put modern phones to shame. For those of us working on the go before remote work was even a buzzword, the BlackBerry wasn’t just a phone - it was a lifeline. And like all great things, it was tragically ahead of its time… and then suddenly behind it.
Why I’ve Stopped Upgrading Every Year
Back in the day, I upgraded phones as if my reputation depended on it - regularly, with enthusiasm, and often with regret. But now?
I held onto my iPhone 8 for years before jumping to the 13 Pro, and only moved to the 14 Pro Max for the bigger screen. And judging by what’s “coming soon” from Apple and Android, I don’t see myself upgrading again for another few years.
Why? Because phones are tools now. For me, it’s calls, messages, and a few convenience apps. That’s it. I’ve gone back to real photography with a proper camera because no matter how good computational photography gets, it still can’t match the depth, sharpness, and creative control of a dedicated sensor and lens. I get to decide how an image looks and not AI or what a room full of engineers think they should look like.
Phones, in 2025, have become boring. Not bad, and yes, an essential in our everyday lives - but still boring.
What’s Next? Maybe Nothing — and That’s Okay
I’m not angry. I’m just… content. I don’t need a folding phone, or a rollable screen, or a camera that can zoom into Mars. What I’d love is something different. Something bold. Something with a personality again that I could proudly tout and exhibit my sense of individuality.
Until then, I’ll stick with what I’ve got. And cherish the days when a phone could start a relationship, make a fashion statement, or literally flip open with a snap worthy of a movie scene.
Let’s face it: the golden age of mobile phones wasn’t defined by specs. It was defined by feel. And I miss that terribly.
Comments