The Price of Peace: How Restraint Became the New Luxury

In today’s hyper-connected world, freedom isn’t about open roads or endless options. It’s about escape. Not from physical confinement, but from the mental siege of notifications, group chats, and algorithmic dopamine loops. Welcome to the Attention Economy, where silence is the ultimate status symbol and restraint is the new luxury.

From faux prison retreats in South Korea to silent monasteries in Italy, people are paying to be left alone. Not because they’re antisocial, but because they’re overstimulated. This isn’t a rejection of modern life. It’s a survival strategy. For some, it’s even a rite of passage. Meanwhile, on my timeline, I find myself teary-eyed watching people, teenagers even, emerge from a week of fasting in darkness. A rite of passage, often facilitated by loving parents.

This isn’t just about work, social media, or FOMO. It’s the relentless mental load of all of the above, nibbling away at us in a volatile world. The pressure to perform, connect, and consume is driving people to seek refuge in silence, darkness, and even in jail. And they’re willing to pay for it.

 The Voluntary Inmate

Back in 2018, in South Korea, Prison Inside Me started offering stressed-out professionals a 24-hour escape from the grind: no phones, no clocks, no talking. For about 90 dollars a day, you can spend time in a mock prison cell. Why? For some, it’s a chance to pause, reflect, and opt out. Others come for deeper reasons. South Korean parents, for example, lock themselves in solitary cells to better understand their Hikikomori children, a term for young people who withdraw from society for months or years. I must admit that I get the appeal of not having to think. About what to eat, who to text back, deadlines or even what to wear, as inmate attire is provided.

In the West, softer versions have emerged: silent retreats, blacked-out hospitality concepts prioritizing the presence above clout and amongst youth, bedrotting. An overly romanticized notion of retreating to bed for hours or days, often with passive digital consumption. While TikTok frames it as self-care, thebehaviour reflects a deeper unease. Disconnection, overwhelm, and disillusionment among people, especially younger generations. Experts point to the rise of digital life, declining face-to-face interaction, and mounting societal pressures, exacerbated by the pandemic and ongoing cultural chaos. Whether it’s the severe isolation of Hikikomori or the quiet retreat of bedrotting, both signal a need for more meaningful connection, mental health support, and societal structures that better serve the emotional and existential needs of youth.

Urgency Over Indulgence

Silent retreats, once the domain of monks and mystics, are now trending on TikTok. From Vipassana in India to ten-day retreats in England, young people are swapping alcohol-fuelled beach holidays for silence. No phones. No talking. No eye contact. Just meditation, modest meals, and mental clarity.

But Skycave Retreats take it further. Participants spend several days in complete darkness. No light, no distractions, no external stimuli. Just you and your inner world. Blending ancient healing practices with modern wellness, these retreats offer a profound reset in an overstimulated age.

Often, it’s teenagers and young adults who seek out these experiences. They’re not just looking for rest. They’re looking for ritual and for structure. A meaningful rite of passage that modern culture no longer provides. As mythologist Michael Meade observes, “Without meaningful rites, young people are left to invent dangerous thresholds.” So, when a culture fails to offer real initiation, young people create their own, often unconsciously and often at great cost. Risky behavior, isolation, self-harm, or overachievement become attempts to feel the transition from adolescence into adulthood. A rite of passage offers a space where identity can fall apart and a deeper essence can emerge. As a mother of two teenage boys, this hits home. I look around and realize we’ve lost the rituals that help youth cross thresholds with meaning and support. 

Implications for Brands: Design for Disconnection

Framing this movement merely as a new wellness trend misses the point. South Korea has alarmingly high suicide rates. In the West, burnout and loneliness are rampant. As is violence. So even though these examples are still reserved for the lucky few, there’s a lesson here for brands and organizations. This signal isn’t about indulgence. It’s about urgency.

People aren’t paying to be restrained because it’s trendy. They’re doing it because they feel they have no other choice. What began as a niche wellness trend for the privileged few is becoming a necessity.

Brands that offer real disconnection, not just spa music and scented candles, will thrive. The future of wellness isn’t additive. It’s subtractive. It’s not about more features, more content, more engagement. It’s about less.

It takes me back to when I conducted global youth research for MTV and one smart kid, speaking of overload, said “Too much on your plate, nothing tastes good.” Truth. Brands must stop glamorizing hustle and start normalizing rest. Stop selling endless choice and start guiding people with intention. That means creating products, services, and spaces that allow people to opt out, log off, and breathe. One brand that quietly nailed the brief is BONNE. In 2014, they introduced black and white two-piece suits. Unisex, occasionless and built to last. Designed as a seven-day uniform, the suit ignores age, sex and social codes. Today, it’s available in various colours and fabrics, but its quiet defiance remains.

But in the end, this isn’t just a brand challenge. It’s a cultural one. If we’ve lost the rituals that help people grow, connect, and reset, then maybe it’s time to start designing them again. What rituals are you designing for your audience? For your students? For your kids?