2024 was not a great year for Apple. The darling of the design world found itself in a state of high alert, with its “Apple Intelligence” promises exposed as little more than smoke and mirrors. Misled consumers saw Apple lose ground in AI functionality to Google and Samsung with little hope of recovery, and for the first time entertained the idea of leaving the “walled orchard.” Tech influencers eagerly profited from Apple’s new big failure as it generated them tons of clicks. And shareholders faced something even remotely worthy of worry for the first time since the passing of Steve Jobs.
So what genius response did the logistics and marketing masterminds that staff Apple’s boardroom come up with? A bold new design language, meant to unify iOS, macOS (and visionOS, and iPadOS and watchOS, because those also need to exist, apparently) into a single aesthetic.
And so Liquid Glass was introduced as the Next Big Thing at WWDC 25. The pitch? Translucent, glass-like interfaces that adapt to content and lighting, creating depth and hierarchy. The reality? A masterclass in how chasing visual spectacle can undermine usability, performance, and accessibility.
Looks Great in Ads, Terrible in Real Life
From the moment the keynote first aired, my corner of the internet caught fire. Accessibility advocates and UX designers alike called it out for what it eventually proved to be—a regression. Translucency (surprising exactly no one) ended up reducing contrast and turned menus and controls into a game of “Where’s Waldo?” for users with visual impairments. For those with low vision, dyslexia, or cognitive disabilities, this change presented a real barrier. Apple’s solution? Settings to reduce transparency and motion. Because nothing says “good design” like making users manually fix what you broke.
The lack of clear visual hierarchy and the removal of text labels from icons only make things worse. Apple’s own design heuristics emphasise clarity and consistency, yet Liquid Glass violates both. It’s a design language that looks sleek in demos but falls apart the moment real humans try to use it. And this did not go unnoticed. Examples of all the places the design language falls apart started pouring in, and thanks to the Nielsen Norman Group, who handily compiled them into a single article, I don’t need to do that here.
Developers also immediately raised questions about performance impact and whether the need to render a glass refraction effect is a wise enough reason to create such a computing overhead. The answers were clear then; they are painfully obvious now that we see support for the latest operating systems limited to Apple Silicon devices only.
Worst of all, there was a feeling of betrayal among those who venerated Apple for its approach to product design. The company had established an ethos around the intuitiveness and ease of use of its devices, and had positioned itself as a leader in inclusivity and accessibility. But with Liquid Glass, they pulled the rug from underneath their own image (no matter how disingenuous or fabricated it was in the first place), and to this day have done nothing to build it back up.
Lead Designer Jumps Ship to Meta, Employees Throw a Party
When Alan Dye, Apple’s VP of Human Interface Design and the architect of Liquid Glass, left for Meta in late 2025, the reaction wasn’t sorrow—it was relief. Reports from reliable Apple insiders state that the mood internally was one of “gleeful joy,” as many of the rank-and-file designers felt their concerns about the design direction of the company were never taken seriously.
Dye’s move to Meta, where he’s now taking on the role of Chief Design Officer, is telling. Zuckerberg is, after all, known for his incredible business acumen, especially when it comes to investing billions in shit nobody asked for, nor ever will. Metaverse, anyone?
A Masterclass in How Not to Design
Nevertheless, aside from providing entertainment to cynical, terminally online designers like myself, Liquid Glass also served one noble purpose. It became a cautionary tale for what happens when a company mistakes marketing for innovation and allows aesthetics to overshadow usability.
Now I will look eagerly to see what Stephen Lemay ends up doing after taking over the reins of Apple Design, and whether Liquid Glass will receive any long-term support or if it will get the treatment it deserves—a quick and painless death. After all, the design community has already done an extended public post-mortem.
-Bo