The internet has spoken, and as usual, it’s divided. With the release of the iOS 26 beta, Apple’s new “Liquid Glass” design has been met with a firestorm of criticism. Predictable comparisons to Windows Vista and complaints about legibility dominate the conversation. But after immersing myself in this new visual language, I’ve come to a different conclusion. This isn’t a misstep; it’s a bold, courageous, and necessary evolution.
For the better part of a decade, mobile design has been sanitized into a flat, minimalist uniformity. It’s clean, it’s safe, and frankly, it’s become boring. Apple, the company that pioneered the flat design revolution with iOS 7, has now chosen to break free from its own orthodoxy. The return to a form of skeuomorphism—not of stitched leather and faux paper, but of light, physics, and material—is a statement. It’s a declaration that our devices don’t have to feel like sterile, digital voids. They can have depth, texture, and a sense of place.
This new “neo-skeuomorphic” design is stunningly ambitious. The way light refracts through a notification, the subtle sheen on a button as you tilt your phone—this is a dynamic, living interface. It doesn’t just sit on your screen; it interacts with its environment. This isn’t a cheap visual effect; it’s a deeply integrated system that feels both futuristic and fundamentally more intuitive.
Now, let’s address the elephant in the room: legibility. The critics are not entirely wrong. If you place this translucent, layered interface on top of a washed-out or overly busy wallpaper, it can be a mess. Text can feel lost, and icons can lack contrast. I experienced this myself, and for a moment, I shared the frustration.
But to stop there is to miss the genius of this design. It’s not the design that’s flawed; it’s our old habits.
I discovered the secret, and it’s remarkably simple: the background is now your canvas. The key to unlocking the power of Liquid Glass is not to fight the transparency but to feed it. When I swapped my muted wallpaper for one with a deep, rich saturation—a field of electric blue, a moody purple nebula, a fiery sunset—everything clicked into place.
Suddenly, the glass design had something to work with. The vibrant hues from the background bled through the translucent layers, giving them definition and dimension. Icons and text didn’t just become legible; they popped with an almost jewel-like quality. The background color became the light source, illuminating the interface from behind and turning a potential visual clutter into a beautifully coherent and surprisingly clear experience.
This is the courage of Apple’s move. They are asking more of us. They are betting that we don’t want to live in a one-size-fits-all digital world. This design invites participation. It challenges you to find the colors and images that make your phone feel truly yours, and it rewards that effort with a visual richness we haven’t seen before.
While others see a gimmick, I see a glimpse of the future—a unified design language that feels at home on an iPhone, an iPad, and even a Vision Pro. Apple is playing the long game, laying the groundwork for hardware and software that feel more physical, more responsive, and more alive.
So, before you dismiss iOS 26, do yourself a favor. Ditch the pale wallpaper. Find a background with bold, saturated color and watch as the glass comes to life. You won’t just see a new interface; you’ll see a flash of courage and a beautifully crafted vision of what’s next.
Why iOS 26’s Liquid Glass Is a Courageous Leap Forward
