Remember the days where the latest smartphone release would have people camping overnight so they could be first in line? Or when booking a holiday involved sitting across from a travel agent with a stack of brochures? For our generation, those memories feel hazy, nostalgic, but slightly baffling. The idea of navigating multiple stages for a simple purchase feels almost archaic. We grew up alongside social media, streaming platforms and on-demand services. We can order new makeup through Instagram, a new outfit via TikTok, and even book a flight on Uber! Often within the same hour.
Our phones are our constant shopping companions, making it possible to buy almost anything in two taps. For a generation with finite attention, this frictionless experience isn’t just convenient but expected. The path to purchase has never been more seamless. But that simplicity is walking a knife’s edge. As buying becomes easier, experiences risk becoming indistinguishable. I miss the thrill of planning a shopping trip in the group chat, the satisfaction of discovering a hidden gem, even the simple joy of touching everything in-store. Increasingly, we’re looking for shopping experiences that feel memorable, communal and just a little bit harder in the right way.
You can’t talk about intentional friction without mentioning the 2025 phenomenon of Labubus. Love them or hate them, Gen Z craved them. These furry little monsters dominated our feeds. Group chats lit up as people compared hauls and strategized how to secure a mystery box. “I have the one and only 24-carat gold Labubu” became a phenomenon across TikTok. Friends who had never shown interest in collectibles were suddenly deep in the hunt. It was wild! But it was also fun and desirable.
The magic of Labubus wasn’t just the product; it was the process. The blind-box format gamified the purchase. Scarcity was baked in. Limited-edition drops heightened the sense of urgency and exclusivity. You couldn’t simply decide you wanted one and expect instant gratification. You had to search, queue, refresh, hope. When you finally secured one, and especially if you pulled a rare version, it felt earned. The satisfaction was amplified precisely because it wasn’t guaranteed. Effort translated into emotional payoff. Spotting someone else with the same Labubu on the train created an unspoken connection, a sense of belonging to an inner club. In a generation that often feels overstimulated and underwhelmed, Labubus injected color, playfulness and anticipation back into the everyday. That’s the power of strategic friction.
Our appetite for these moments is inextricably linked to our generational experiences. Many of us moved through key milestones during COVID-19. As an older Gen Z, I finished my degree online, only interacting with other students virtually. Younger Gen Zs faced disrupted exams and the strange isolation of changing school mid-pandemic. We’re scarred from queuing outside grocery stores for our weekly shop where the only limited-edition item was toilet roll. Now we want whimsy! We want excitement! We want anticipation attached to something joyful, not survival. We want the thrill of waiting in line for something we desire, not something we desperately need.
At the same time, we’re experiencing the cost-of-living crisis. I personally don’t want to make the shopping journey harder for goods like food and toiletries. Necessities still need to be easy and convenient to buy. Friction for the sake of it won’t resonate when budgets are tight. But for something we’re passionate about? The rules change. We will happily queue for an exclusive drop or spend hours securing access to a limited pop-up. Even more compelling is a product available only at that moment, creating a tangible you had to be there energy. It builds countdown culture, sparks speculation and gives the community something to collectively anticipate. The knowledge that something won’t be around forever intensifies desire. When access is finite, ownership feels earned. For us, the product now becomes the timestamp.
Brands have an opportunity here. By tapping into our passions and digital-native instincts, they can design purposeful friction that transforms shopping into a shareable experience. This might look like interactive drops, community-led challenges, limited windows of access, or gamified rewards that require participation rather than passive scrolling. For a generation raised online, friction isn’t inherently a barrier. If it feels intentional, creative and culturally fluent, it becomes content. It becomes social currency.
We are natural sharers. Joyful, surprising and aesthetically pleasing experiences travel fast across platforms. A well-executed drop can dominate For You Pages within hours. But these purposeful friction moments need to have a pay-off. If friction feels clumsy, unfair or inauthentic to the brand, frustration will be amplified just as quickly. In a hyper-connected ecosystem, every misstep is noted. Purposeful friction must build anticipation, not resentment.
Ultimately, friction isn’t about making shopping harder; it’s about making it meaningful. In a world where almost anything can be delivered tomorrow, or within the hour, the brands that stand out will be those brave enough to slow us down. Give us a reason to care. Give us a reason to text the group chat, “You have to see this.” Create moments that feel scarce, playful and culturally tuned-in rather than inconvenient. If it feels worth our time, we’ll invest in it and show up for it.
