The Algorithm Is Shaping Our Taste
Or perhaps, slowly taking it away.
“AirSpace” was Kyle Chayka’s coinage for the strangely frictionless geography created by digital platforms: a world in which you could move between places without ever really leaving the boundaries of an app, or the bubble of a familiar aesthetic.
Earlier this week, I came across his 2024 article discussing how algorithms have influenced physical spaces, particularly coffee shops.
As someone who works in hospitality marketing, I spend a lot of time thinking about how spaces are reflected online in order to connect with audiences. But I had never really considered it the other way around: the influence of social media on constructing the spaces themselves.
At first, I felt slightly defensive reading Chayka’s argument that coffee shops around the world have begun to look the same. Brands work incredibly hard to retain their identity in an oversaturated hospitality industry.
But then I thought about the coffee shops I’ve visited while travelling - and I love an independent café with specialty beans and a good flat white - and I realised he was right.
Minimal logos. Clean interiors. Neutral tones. Plants dotted around the room. Slightly industrial lighting. Funky artwork on the walls.
And somehow, almost instinctively, you walk in and think: I bet they do good coffee.
“Aesthetic shorthand has become a signal of quality.”
The truth is, how much can I really tell about the quality of coffee purely from a minimalist interior?
What Chayka argues is that this common visual language exists because café owners and baristas across the world are all consuming the same content online. Through Instagram and algorithmic recommendations, they begin influencing one another in real time until a recognisable aesthetic standard emerges.
A look is curated so that, no matter where in the world you find yourself, you recognise the cues immediately.
And I have absolutely fallen into the trap.
As much as I recognise myself as the perfect culprit in this scenario as a customer, the marketer in me is also deeply impressed.
Because, strategically, it makes complete sense.
“Adapting to the norm wasn’t just following trends but making a business decision, one that consumers rewarded,” Chayka writes.
Creating spaces, brunch dishes and coffees that are visually pleasing enough to be shared online is effectively free advertising. Customers become marketers. A beautiful café becomes both a hospitality experience and a lifestyle accessory.
And in a social media economy, optimising for sharing is genius.
The problem is not sameness. It’s the erosion of taste.
The article was adapted from Chayka’s book Filterworld, which I’ve since started listening to on Audible, and the central argument becomes less about coffee shops specifically and more about what algorithms are doing to human taste itself.
Because while these spaces feel comforting and familiar, they also risk flattening individuality.
Chayka suggests that algorithms cannot truly distinguish between likes and taste because taste is something deeper and more instinctive. Often, real taste contains an element of surprise - liking something and not fully being able to explain why.
Taste therefore takes time to develop because it requires encountering the unfamiliar, or even questioning your preferences. It is deeply human: instinctive, emotional, shaped by memory or experiences.
In a world increasingly shaped by AI, taste matters more than ever.
Technology may not fully understand our taste, but it can slowly weaken our ability to form it independently.
“Algorithms don’t just shape what we consume. They shape what we learn to value.”
I was reminded of this when reading this article by Tod Perry, who references social strategist Carmen Vicente discussing how algorithms have “killed taste.”
He compares it to television culture in the 1990s, when proudly watching endless hours of TV was often associated with lacking curiosity or personality. Today, doomscrolling and “bed-rotting” are almost worn as badges of honour.
And perhaps this is why critical thinking feels so important right now. To continue to develop creativity and individual thoughts.
Reading actual books. Spending time outdoors. Having conversations that require presence. Ordering with a waiter instead of a QR code. Conducting your own research.
These small acts matter because they force us to engage intentionally rather than passively consume.
And perhaps most importantly: seek places beyond the algorithm.
Some of my favourite restaurants while travelling have not been the places that appeared on my Instagram Explore page. They’ve been the tiny family-run restaurants discovered accidentally down cobbled side streets. The places with handwritten chalkboard menus, imperfect interiors and stories that cannot be condensed into an aesthetic.
Those experiences felt memorable precisely because they were unexpected.
“Taste requires curiosity. Algorithms reward familiarity.”
Working in social media means I understand the importance of online visibility and the genuine power social media marketing has for businesses.
But I also think there is a growing difference between spaces that are designed to connect with people and spaces designed primarily to perform online.
Visit places because the owner’s story resonates with you. Because the building has history. Because the atmosphere makes you feel something. Because it aligns with your values - not simply because it looks good on Instagram.
And for business owners, maybe this is the challenge too. Use social media to share your values, perspective and story, not just aesthetics designed to perform well on the algorithm. Because genuine connection to your audience is what will make you stand out.
Perhaps algorithms don’t have to kill taste and culture after all. But preserving them requires intention.
It means working harder to think critically about what we consume, questioning why we love the things we do and allowing our tastes to develop beyond what is simply fed to us online.
Because real taste is built through curiosity, surprise and lived experience - and some of the best inspiration still exists offline.
About
Becoming without burnout is an exploration of how to build a fulfilling, ambitious life without losing your wellbeing along the way.
In a world designed to distract, accelerate and constantly ask for more, I’m interested in a different question: what does it look like to grow, achieve and create a meaningful life - while still feeling present within it?
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This stopped me, particularly because of the distinction you made between spaces designed to connect and spaces designed to perform.
The parallel I keep thinking about is healthcare. We’ve watched clinical spaces undergo their own version of AirSpace: soothing neutrals, branded wayfinding, curated ‘healing environments’ that photograph beautifully and signal quality before a single interaction occurs. The aesthetic says we care, so the institution doesn’t always have to prove it.
But just like the coffee shop that looks the part and disappoints, the care that follows doesn’t always match the visual promise.
What algorithms reward in hospitality and healthcare alike is the appearance of warmth, not warmth itself. And when we optimize for the signal, we risk hollowing out the thing the signal was supposed to represent.
Your line about taste requiring curiosity feels important here. Real care, like real hospitality, is built through presence, surprise, and friction. The kind that can’t be flattened into an aesthetic or surfaced by an algorithm.