Boring feeds are taking over Instagram and it’s actually kind of liberating

If you opened Instagram right now, your feed would probably be a bizarre mash-up of motivational Elon Musk speeches, aesthetic meal preps, skincare and workout routines, and someone explaining why you’re still not “living your best life.” Every post wants something from you: to buy, to learn, to aspire, to fix yourself in some way. It’s honestly exhausting—not because the content is bad, but because it never stops asking you to be better. Boring, right?

Instagram wasn’t always like this. Back in 2012, it was an artistic playground where people shared grainy photos of their cats, lunches, half-drunk coffees, or the sunrise from their bedroom window. The filters were bad, the captions were worse, and yet it felt oddly sincere. Nobody was building a brand or racking up engagement; they were just posting whatever they felt like. Somewhere along the way, though, Instagram transformed from a casual photo-sharing app into a full-blown lifestyle marketplace. Suddenly, your cat photo wasn’t enough; it had to be aesthetic, monetisable, or at least inspiring.

And that’s when Instagram got exhausting. The casual post became a 3-hour ordeal of angle testing, VSCO presets (guilty), and at least two rounds of texting your friend, “Is this post-worthy?” The algorithm rewarded perfection, so we all ended up overcurating our feeds, chasing likes and engagement under the guise of “aesthetic appeal.” But now, the pendulum is swinging back. People are tired of looking polished all the time, and ironically, the new aesthetic is no aesthetic at all.

Thanks to millennials, we're in the golden age of Instagram. Accounts like @girlscarryingshit, @subwayhands, @hotdudesreading, @subwaycreatures, @livinglego, and @animalsdoingthings have figured out a simple truth about our attention spans: we’re tired. Of aesthetics, effort, doomscrolling, and heavily crafted content. We're tired of feeling like every scroll is a performative review we never asked for. Many of these quiet, unassuming accounts don’t really teach you anything; they're not trying to sell you anything or convince you to start a side hustle. They just exist—and in doing so, they’re oddly therapeutic. 

These accounts tap into what I’d call “soft chaos”: the chipped nail polish on the hand gripping a subway pole, a man in a wrinkled white shirt reading Murakami on the train, a golden retriever sprawled across a park bench, or a pigeon staring into a shop window—moments that are quietly absurd and entirely ordinary. They’re tiny reminders that life doesn’t have to be manicured to be interesting. And maybe that’s why this shift toward the “boring” feels addictive: after years of scrolling through skincare hauls and curated IG posts, we’re tired of being sold a dream. What we want is proof that the ordinary can still hold our attention.

Part of the appeal is psychological. When life online constantly demands performance, anything unpolished suddenly feels like a relief. Dr Alisha Lalljee, psychologist and psychotherapist, explains that over the past decade, social media has been dominated by curated, filtered, and polished content. Over time, however, people naturally begin to crave realness. As she puts it, people are drawn to “the unfiltered, flawed, and spontaneous moments that reflect genuine human experience.” Psychologically, we push back against rigid norms, and messy or random content resonates more because it “is easier to process emotionally because it mirrors real-life messiness.” That’s why blurry photos, casual videos, and offbeat memes have become a cultural counterbalance, offering relief and authenticity in a polished digital world.

And perhaps most importantly, “boring” Instagram scratches a subtle itch for connection. In the middle of these perfectly curated posts, we forget that social media was meant to be social. Accounts that showcase ordinary life let us feel close to someone else’s reality in a way that glossy perfection never could. We laugh at the absurdity, relate to the mundane, and remember that the internet doesn’t always have to be a performance; it can simply be a place to exist. 

Gen Z, in particular, have been quietly leading this rebellion against over-curation. Growing up with perfectly filtered feeds and the rise of influencer culture, they’ve developed a healthy scepticism for polished content. Their response? Photo dumps, finstas, and BeReals that glorify the messy, unedited, and often hilariously mundane moments on their IG. To them, a screenshot of a Spotify playlist, a picture of their forehead, or a half-eaten slice of pizza at a shady bar is far more relatable, funny, and real.

In many ways, they’ve normalised what older Instagram users once feared: low effort, high relatability, and complete disregard for perfection. That’s why a feed filled with girls carrying multiple things in their hands, old uncles and aunties holding hands on the subway, or a good-looking guy performatively reading a book can hold our attention longer than a polished reel. These posts are unpressured, communal, playful, and subtly rebellious. 

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