Smart Glasses Misadventures

There are moments when technology looks you in the eye—metaphorically, of course—and whispers: “This time it's the right one. This time everything changes.” I believe it. Every time. Like a chronic romantic who falls back in love despite the history of his heart being a graveyard of gadgets bought with enthusiasm and abandoned with regret.

This is the story of my last days with smart glasses. A story of love, passion, betrayal, and surrender.

Love at First Sight: Ray-Ban Meta Gen 2

Thanks to my phone operator — for once deserving of a pat on the back — I had the opportunity to get my hands on a couple of Ray-Ban Meta Wayfarer Second Generation, completely free.

From the moment I unboxed it, I realized I wasn't holding just any gadget. The design is the iconic Wayfarer, aesthetically impeccable, with no detail that screams "“hi I'm a nerd with a computer on my face“. The 12MP camera, the 90% noise-canceling microphones, double the battery life compared to the first generation — eight hours of continuous use — and the case that gives another 48 hours: on paper, an object of technological desire.

A Sunday Upgrade

The test of fire came on the occasion of Green Souls, the wonderful weekend in Padua when private gardens, cloisters, and schools open their doors to the public—places normally inaccessible, with an often silent and unknown beauty.

Hands-free strolls through greenery and architecture, music floating around your ears without headphones that turn you into an antisocial hermit, notifications read aloud without taking out your phone, navigation directions whispered like an ancient technological oracle. And then the pièce de résistance: asking AI to describe a work of art you're looking at, like having a personal guide always available.

It was wonderful. Really.

The audio quality, while physically almost impossible in such thin earpieces, is astonishing—enveloping, spatial, unobtrusive.

The LED That Divides the World in Two

However, there is a small detail that transforms an elegant accessory into a declaration of social war: that camera. And that LED.

When you're filming, the LED lights up. And people see it. And people move away. They don't move away out of shyness—they walk away with the same expression as someone who's just seen someone pick up a kitchen knife in a dark alley.

But the paradox is delightful: we live in an era where each of us gives every moment of our lives to social media—with joy, with Valencia filters, with stories that expire but the data doesn't—yet an LED on a pair of glasses is perceived as a threat to privacy. Consistency isn't the strong point of this era.

And here I asked myself a more subtle question: Where does everything I film, photograph, or simply say while wearing these glasses end up? On Meta's servers, presumably. Good old Zuckerberg, who makes billions from the tons of data we eagerly give him—and I, who also include the data from my eyes— it seemed like an excessive gift to me.

The Search for the Alternative

I started researching: is there a pair of audio smart glasses, without a camera, that doesn't make me feel like a plainclothes secret agent?

The answer is complicated. Bose, the absolute pioneer of audio smart glasses, has quietly abandoned the industry—goodbye, Frames, you made history. The cheap Chinese clones sound like they came out of a bag of chips—plastic, sound like an old transistor, and with the same lifespan as a campaign promise.

And then, like a light in the tunnel, came the Xiaomi Mijia Smart Audio Glasses.

The Promising Lover

On paper—and in photos—they're beautiful. A vaguely vintage-style frame, razor-thin arms that hide impressive hardware engineering. Four microphones with intelligent noise reduction, a claimed battery life of up to 13 hours of music, and open audio that—for everyday use, notifications, voice messages, and calls—seemed like the right answer to the wrong question.

Ordered. Arrived. Worn with the solemnity of someone opening a technological vial.

First impression: Immersive, crystal-clear sound, bass that's not too deep but is honest, and calls are surprisingly clear, even for the recipient. The Xiaomi Glasses app reads WhatsApp notifications and responds to messages with voice commands. Perfect.

For about four minutes.

The Bug That Doesn't Forgive

Because, dear friends, there is such a thing as “automatic reconnection” —that is, the ability of a Bluetooth device to reconnect to your phone when you put it back on, without having to perform shamanic rituals. Xiaomi Mijia devices are halfway successful: Bluetooth reconnects, yes. But the proprietary app doesn't.

The app sees them disconnected. And without the app, the automatic functions disappear. No read notifications. No voice replies. Nothing like what I bought them for. They're left with a pair of open speakers with no way to send phone notifications—not even the ones iOS sends by default to regular headphones.

I contacted Xiaomi support. They were extremely kind, prompt, and clearly unprepared. They suggested a series of procedures I'd already performed at least three times online. We did them together, live, with the solemnity of open-heart surgery.

Nothing.

Final verdict: “There will probably be an updated firmware coming out. In the meantime, you can pair manually each time.”

Every time.

The Philosophy of Return

Now, my nerdy nature allows me to tolerate technological rituals of all kinds. I solve computer problems for pleasure, not out of obligation. But there's one principle I won't discuss: technology must simplify life, don't add steps to the daily chaos.

Taking off my glasses dozens of times a day—because that's what glasses wearers do—and each time dissociating them, deleting them from the app, re-pairing them, and reconfiguring them is the exact opposite of the promise these objects embody.

My response to support was crystal clear: “Listen, Miss. I appreciate the effort, but if you don't guarantee me the firmware within 14 days, I'm not wasting any time and returning it.”

“Okay, I’ll explain the return procedure to you.”

Five seconds of silence. Then a bitter smile. Then the return process.

The Broken Promise

I'm left with a slightly bitter taste in my mouth—not because of the money, which will return anyway, but because of the future that was glimpsed and then faded. A pair of discreet, aesthetically pleasing glasses, capable of keeping your phone in your pocket for most of the day. An invisible, non-invasive, non-panoptic technological companion.

We're almost there. The Ray-Ban Meta Gen 2 are very close, but the price of convenience is total surrender to the Zuckerberg machine. Xiaomi Mijia had the right idea, but the firmware of a product just released on the Italian market stopped them in their tracks.

The future of smart glasses exists. It's real. It's, at times, wonderful.

It's just still a little raw. Like certain loves—beautiful in idea, complicated in reality.

I'm waiting. With nerdy patience and a romantic heart.