Every cool girl in my tutorial, at the coffee shop, or in a HerCampus board meeting sports the same piece of body tech jewellery – the Oura ring. Sleek in design, fashionable and most importantly highly trackable, the Oura ring is a finger device capable of tracking your sleep, heart rate, physical activity, blood oxygen levels, temperature, menstruation cycle and glucose levels… what can’t it do?. All it asks for is a measly £5.99 monthly subscription fee (HC St Andrews’ social media assistant and fellow writer Femi points out that this is less than an Amazon Prime subscription) and of course, you also need to fork out £350-£500 for the ring. From the point of purchase, the ring becomes a journey of self-love, the company’s advertising strategy prioritises moments of intimacy with yourself. Forget a partner, in the Introducing Oura Ring 4 advert, an Oura ring seductively circles in the crease of a yoga mat and falls from a pillow’s edge. With their motto ‘Spend a day with Oura’ (suggestions of a romantic date anyone?), the ring on your finger is likened to a dazzling diamond engagement ring, a shining silver promise to you from you to care for your wellbeing, in a way a partner never could.
This promo’s success pervades the streets of St Andrews, you wouldn’t get far around this town or enjoy an Instagram scroll without seeing the innocuous device attached to an it-girl’s finger. Every influencer and celebrity from Sofia Richie to Molly-Mae are never without their Oura’s. Hidden in a ring stack and matched perfectly to your manicure or handbag, the Oura ring seamlessly blends in with your wardrobe, the epitome of chic. This is a huge plus for wearers like our HC chapter president Lily who claims the sleekness of the product was a huge draw-in, especially compared to competitor products like the loud Apple watch or the forsaken Fitbit.
After interviewing the HC St Andrews board members, I found that Oura users prioritise sleep stats and menstrual data. We all know what it’s like trying to pay attention in a lecture with five hours sleep or refraining from snapping at someone during our period week. Given the never-ending deadline stress and aftermath effects of Wednesday pub nights, the curiosity around sleep cycle data peaks in university students. A common thread to Oura wearers was that they think more intentionally about their sleep cycles with their Oura devices, aiming to keep their sleep scores high and implementing rest days to align with hormonal changes, which in turn they reap the positive effects. But is the reminder to think about your health so intentionally worth the heavy price tag? Do you not instinctually know if you’ve slept well or not? And when you have that much trackable data at your fingertips, do you not begin to fall victim to the placebo effect?
Truthfully, I have a slight suspicion around body tech. Body tech jewellery isn’t a new phenomenon and can have lifesaving effects. For example, people living with diabetes benefit from continuous glucose monitors while apple watches have saved lives with their rapid recognition of dangerous heart rate changes. But the industry has also transformed, Oura is now worth $11 billion as of 2025 and their biggest collaboration is with the US Department of Defence providing health tracking data for the military.
At a time where consumption is rife, it is important to highlight that what we consume is not always mega hauls of fast fashion but also data. Think Spotify stats, Letterboxd wrapped, weekly screen time notifications, goals to read 50 books a year and perhaps the OG of this body tech phenomenon- the health app favourite step count. The sharing of this data becomes a capitalist advertising dream, Spotify wrapped is treated as if it were a national holiday across groupchats and Instgram stories! The wellness sphere is not exempt. Take the idea of getting 10,000 steps a day which started as a campaign slogan ahead of the 1964 Tokyo Olympics, advertising the Manpo-Kei, a pedometer. This data is evidence of how much we consume and illustrates that companies profit from selling you the idea that the more information you know about yourself the better. The Oura ring epitomises this with their 50+ varieties of stats you can access if you spend the big bucks.
If wearable body tech helps you make healthy decisions and think about your wellness holistically then who am I to judge? Whilst the Oura ring and its various sister products (think Whoop and Garmin) have clear benefits, a question we ask of our romantic relationships holds the same value in this discussion- is our relationship one of dependency? As we approach Valentine’s Day, yes the Oura ring is a symbol of prioritising self-love but does it really know you better than a person (yourself included) ever could?