What the Slow Movement Gets Wrong (And How We Can Do It Better)

Reclaiming Slow Living from Perfection, Privilege, and Pinterest

I’ll start with this: I love the slow living movement. It changed my life. It allowed me to step away from hustle culture, reconnect with my family, food, and seasons. It showed me that I could live more on purpose, even in the tiniest of spaces and the busiest of seasons.

But… (you knew that was coming, right?)
The slow movement has gotten a bit lost in the weeds. Somewhere between the linen wrapped sourdough starters and the endless reels of barefoot women foraging berries in perfect light, something essential slipped out the back door.

So today, let’s talk about it. Because if we really want to make slow living a sustainable, supportive, inclusive way of life, not just a passing aesthetic, we need to be honest about what isn’t working. And more importantly, how we can do it better.

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1. It’s Become Performative

Let’s just get this one out of the way.
Somewhere along the way, slow living became something you show, not something you do.

Scroll Instagram for five minutes and you’ll see what I mean. Apparently, you’re not really living slowly unless your life looks like a Kinfolk magazine spread: rustic bread on hand-thrown pottery, unbrushed hair blowing gently in a breeze, a child playing silently with handmade wooden toys while you sip chamomile tea and journal your intentions.

Listen, I love beautiful moments. I share them too. But slow living is not an aesthetic, it’s a practice.
And frankly, it’s often a messy one. It’s in the undercooked lentils and the rushed mornings you tried to make slow. It’s in the decision to shut the laptop at 5pm, even when your to-do list is feral. It’s in choosing to pause, even when you don’t get a sepia-toned photo out of it.

Better Way: Let’s de-aestheticise slow living. Share the imperfect bits. Celebrate the choices that don’t make it to Instagram. Real slow is lived, not staged.

2. It Overlooks Privilege