The collective sigh of tech enthusiasts echoes online every time Apple releases a new product with what appears to be “an obvious design flaw”. The new USB-C Magic Mouse still charges from the bottom, awkwardly forcing it into a temporary coma during refueling. The Mac Mini’s power button is concealed beneath it, as if playing a game of hide-and-seek with its users. And yet, I’m here to defend the seemingly indefensible — Apple’s persistent prioritization of form over function.
I suppose there should first be an acknowledgement of the elephant in the room: yes, these design choices can indeed be inconvenient. But convenience isn’t necessarily the point! Dieter Rams, whose principles deeply influenced Apple’s design philosophy, never listed “maximum convenience” among his ten principles of good design. Instead, he emphasized aesthetic quality alongside functionality, arguing that well-executed design makes a product understandable and, crucially, unobtrusive.
The Magic Mouse’s charging port placement seems absurd, but actually serves a greater purpose in Apple’s design ethos: by hiding the port completely during use, the mouse’s clean lines and uninterrupted surface are maintained — a decision that reflects their commitment to objects as complete, self-contained forms. When Norman Foster designed Apple Park, he didn’t place parking lots in the center of the main ring for the sake of convenience, either.
Apple’s history is peppered with these choices; it’s part of their corporate DNA. The original iMac G3 had hidden ports, and the removal of the iPhone’s headphone jack placed visual harmony above mere functionality. These decisions often advance industry standards despite initial scorn — remember when the floppy disk was eliminated? Most probably haven’t used one in decades.
According to Don Norman’s “The Design of Everyday Things”, good design balances beauty and usability — but what if the beauty itself is a function? Yes, Apple’s products command premium prices partly because they serve as status symbols and objects of desire, but their clean lines and hidden “ugly” necessities aren’t just aesthetic choices but features that contribute to the products’ perceived value and cultural significance.
The Mac Mini’s hidden power button serves as a perfect example of this philosophy. How often is it really needed? With Macs’ dependable sleep functions, its importance diminishes. By concealing it, Apple preserves the device’s minimalist essence, transforming it into a piece of modern art. This minimalism reflects the Bauhaus movement’s core idea of reducing objects to their purest form — a principle proven its worth for over a century.
Critics might argue that this approach alienates users who prioritize functionality, however sales figures suggest otherwise. Apple’s market capitalization didn’t reach $3 trillion by alienating its user base, but rather creating an ecosystem where form doesn’t replace function, but enhances it. The Magic Mouse’s smooth surface enables gestures that would be impossible with a traditional mouse design, and the Mac Mini’s clean exterior allows it to blend seamlessly into any workspace.
But perhaps the wrong question is being asked… Instead of “why doesn’t Apple make their products more convenient?” one should ask “why do millions of people continue to choose these supposedly inconvenient products?“. It might be the holistic experiences created by these designs. What I mean by this is, for example, when Jony Ive insisted on the iPhone X to have an edge-to-edge glass, he wasn’t just making it pretty but also creating an object that would feel as premium as it looked.
The truth is that Apple’s form-first philosophy isn’t a flaw but a defining trait. It’s what sets them apart them from competitors who might offer more practical solutions but fail to capture the imagination in quite the same way. In a world increasingly dominated by ugly, utilitarian tech, there’s something to be said for a company that still believes in the power of beauty as an essential aspect of interaction.
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