The road to get to the cabin lodgings of Dunton Hot Springs, the 1800s ghost town turned resort tucked in the San Juan Mountains of the Colorado Rockies, is paved with bad WiFi. For a visiting New Yorker accustomed to connectivity at every corner, above ground and underground, it can feel like a rough landing. But after arriving at my cabin (WiFi free; you can only get online in the property’s common areas), my wide-eyed city kid in tow, it took less than a day of staring at those majestic mountains—which happened to be covered in a tapestry of fervent yellow leaves when we were there during September’s peak foliage—for me to forget entirely about connectivity. The vista had me under its spell. Why would I want to disappear into my phone and risk breaking that?
Call it big analog energy—and it’s a trend whose reach is continuing to expand. Despite AI domination and a little company called Apple turning 50 this year, people are increasingly seeking respite from their digital-centered worlds. There is the dawn of the analog bag, a tote filled with things like books, knitting, crosswords, and sketchpads, that’s been billed as a stand-in for doomscrolling. There is the resurgence of book clubs and running clubs and dinner parties and crafting circles. And there is the slow-burn return of film cameras and CDs and landlines. What may be fueling this analog push is a desire for more meaningful, in-person interactions (and connections; dating has increasingly moved offline too) and for things that feel, well, real. Consider it a collective cultural pushback against the infinite scroll.
The getaway is not immune to the analog wave: this year, we’re going to travel like it’s 1999. Going analog is synonymous with slowing down, a shift from consumption to appreciation, says Wally Koval, the founder of Accidentally Wes Anderson. “The analog traveler is prioritizing quality over quantity and context over content,” says Koval. And their digital detachment starts in the planning stages. Instead of scrolling or tapping ChatGPT to help with an itinerary, they are looking to more select and human sources instead of algorithm-driven ones. Nestor Lara-Baeza, president of Xhibition, a boutique public relations firm, has seen people turning back to a paper guidebook and independent travel magazines for inspiration. “Some of the best travel ideas still come the old-fashioned way: asking friends or fellow travelers and finding an actual local guide,” adds Koval.
For a number of travelers, what’s in that analog bag is steering their itinerary. “There’s been a strong rise in purpose-driven travel and trips centered on learning, making or practicing something tangible,” says Lara-Baeza. Like crocheting with master crafter Henri Purnell at Casa Lawa, a guesthouse at the foot of Mount Etna in Sicily. Or hand-building and glazing pottery at the serene Maana House in Kyoto. Or yoga-on-repeat led by the beloved teachers of New York’s SkyTing, but in more far-flung locales like Costa Rica and Greece and Santa Barbara. “Because your hands and attention are engaged, these types of trips create a natural separation from screens,” adds Lara-Baeza.
And less of a need for the frequent dispatch. Instead of oversharing, it’s about not sharing at all, says Cassandra Napoli, head of consumer forecasting at WGSN. “The fear of missing out (FOMO) which accelerated with social media has now evolved into the joy of logging off (JOLO),” says Napoli, adding that phone-free tourism is on the rise. “Going on vacation without sharing a single Instagram reel is the new benchmark.” A far cry from the tourists clamoring to get the so-called shot, selfie stick in hand. But following the herd never really feeds discovery. Not to mention it inevitably leads to overtourism. Whenever Koval spots a crowd flocking to the same viewpoint or standing in a long line, he looks around the corner or a few blocks away instead. Lara-Baeza is always encouraging travelers to go deeper or one step sideways. “That might mean visiting a region rather than a headline city, traveling in shoulder season, or choosing experiences rooted in culture, nature, or craft rather than landmarks,” he says. “When travel becomes about curiosity instead of validation, overtourism loses its pull.”