How I hit reset on my homescreen in pursuit of a more peaceful existence.
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The grid is a comfortable place to live.
The app grid, I mean: the rows and rows of app icons on your iPhone’s homescreen. It’s familiar. Safe. It’s how I’ve lived with my various phones over the past decade. But at some point, it started to feel oppressive.
All those icons staring at me in the face, vying for my attention. The clutter! The distracting little notification badges! The grid was a reasonable way to organize apps when I had like, ten of them. There are sixty on the iPhone I’m using now, and I set it up from scratch a few months ago.
Naturally, living off-grid or in a non-traditional homescreen arrangement has been possible for much longer on Android. Google’s OS lets you keep your screen clear and just find your apps in the app drawer, which is always a swipe away. You can even replace the launcher entirely. But iOS — where every new app you download winds up on your homescreen by default — hasn’t exactly made it easy to abandon the grid.
That started to change when iOS 14 added widgets, an app library, and the ability to hide apps from your homescreen — though I haven’t developed the muscle memory to use it much. Now, iOS 18 adds even more flexibility. You can put apps and widgets anywhere you want on your homescreen, change their colors, and put more functions into the Control Center. But even as the apps and customization options have multiplied, most of us are still using our homescreens in basically the same way as we did with our first smartphones.
With the new options in iOS 18 — and getting a peek at other peoples’ well-curated homescreens — I decided it was time to do a little cleanup. Why should an app I only open once a month when I park downtown take up space on my homescreen year-round? Better yet, does any app deserve to occupy that precious real estate?
I spent about an hour deleting icons, arranging widgets, and adding controls to create my new homescreen. The camera control button on the iPhone 16 renders that icon unnecessary; the action button launches the oft-used daycare app, so that could go too. When I was done, my haphazardly maintained system of folders with cute emoji labels was whittled down to just four apps in the dock and a handful of widgets spread across two pages, which I’m affectionately calling “Windows Phone 2.0.”