I received my Apple Watch a couple of weeks ago: a brown-wrapped package, then a box within a box within a box, kind of like a Russian doll. By now I'm used to seeing butterflies flutter on my customized watch face, and I've been to some training sessions, and viewed the videos, and played around with the digital crown, scrolling and zooming.
I'm a writer, not a techie, so mine are everywoman's opinions of a product that arouses heated battles of yea-and-nay-sayers. These honest impressions of a typical consumer just might help you decide whether or not to magnetically strap this much-talked-about personal device on your wrist -- or pass for now.
Basic Apple apps come with the watch, but other apps are more limited than I thought.
I enjoy seeing photos, using maps and Siri, sending a sketch or a heartbeat, paying for a latte by waving my wrist, responding to the gently pinging and vibrating fitness taps that remind me how much I sit. As a frequent traveler, I've added some apps, including TripAdvisor and Open Table, but I miss many of the non-Apple options I have on my devices (I wanted the Forbes app among many others). Apple staff assures me that loads more apps are coming soon, but I'm not sure what that means.
On the other hand, fewer choices at this time mean fewer things to fiddle with while I'm still in learning mode. Right now I feel that this smartwatch defines itself -- it's the smartest and most beautiful wearable device, with lots of possibilities. Maybe soon, as I learn more and I include more apps, I'll think of it more as a brilliant product with a precise "watch app."
When I wear the Watch I feel both more and less vulnerable.
I can't hide the Watch, like I can my smartphone. It's in your face, and mine, especially when I talk to it; especially when I flaunt those fluttering butterflies on the Watch's sapphire crystal face, and the snappy links of my Milanese watch band. A couple of times, walking alone on a dark street, I wished there were an ugly-watch coverup. On the other hand, that sinking feeling -- "where is my phone!!" -- as I scramble through my purse or frantically touch my pockets, is now minimized.
The smartphone feels like the mothership.
The Watch needs to be near an iPhone for many functions. You'll need a Bluetooth connection from your phone to pair your Watch. Some apps won't be usable when your iPhone is away, including messaging, mail, phone, maps, camera remote, weather, and stocks. These all rely on either active data connections or GPS signals, neither of which an Apple Watch can do without an iPhone. But you can be upstairs and take a call while your phone is downstairs. Surely this connection issue will eventually be addressed. But not yet. A downer.
I don't mind recharging.
I've heard lots of complaints about the life of the battery, supposedly 18 hours. The charger is a small device that magnetically attaches to the Watch. I keep it plugged in by my bed at night, and the charging ritual has become as simple as turning out the light. I like that the device is not always on my hand, but at hand. I like taking a break from it's pretty strong presence. No biggy.
There are many basics to learn, but that doesn't bother me as much I thought it would.
Maybe because I use other devices, and don't depend on this one, I have more patience than usual. I've already learned the basics, including swiping and touching the really small screen, the various pressures that enable various functions, and have given myself a month to learn the intricacies. I imagine I will feel empowered when I do.
The watch face is bigger than I thought, and pretty, but it's hard to poke.
Every bit of space helps when hitting apps, contacts, or messages. My husband purchased an Apple Watch with the larger face, and although I like its practical size, it looks bulky on my small wrist, so I chose the the slightly smaller face. The Watch's androgynous look: elegant, organic and useful, lives up to Apple's rep for design.
I feel awkward talking into my wrist.
Talking out messages and emails versus typing them is a pleasant necessity with the Watch. But when I speak to Siri or dictate a message I feel a bit like Maxwell Smart from the 1970s, talking to his shoe. I guess when more people walk around with mouths pressed to their wrists, I'll be less self-conscious. Then again, something even newer will have been invented by then, so this is a short-lived, first-world problem.
