
But taken as a universal rule, frictionless is too blunt an instrument. Because in the right context, a little bit of friction adds meaning.
There are clear scenarios where adding a layer of effort or delay increases the perceived value of an interaction; for example, by creating a sense of scarcity and exclusivity. When access to something is gated or controlled, the experience starts to feel more intentional.
Take Glastonbury Festival. Each year, millions attempt to secure tickets through a registration process that requires IDs, postcodes, and coordination across groups, all for a less than 10% chance of success. On paper, it’s an overly tiresome user journey. In reality, it transforms the act of buying a ticket into something closer to a mission, with attendance feeling like a badge of honour.
This is where friction becomes a tool for building intent. By interrupting the natural flow of a journey, brands can create moments of pause that encourage users to reflect on their decisions. That moment of interruption tends to filter out casual interest and leave behind stronger intent.
The same principle applies to building anticipation. When access is staggered or controlled, attention and word of mouth usually follow. In many ways, the process becomes part of the experience rather than just the route to it.
Nothing demonstrates this more than the London Marathon ballot. Entry itself is uncertain and the entire ballot period has become a shared cultural moment. Even for those who have never gone on a run before, the act of getting a place carries significance (as demonstrated by a record 1.3 million people applying for a 2027 place).
In this manner, the customer journey has made it feel like a privilege just to be included in the race.
Friction as reassurance in higher-stakes decisions
Friction also plays a quieter role in how value is signalled and how decisions are validated. When something it too easy to access, it can feel lightweight, and introducing steps, pauses, or limits can change that perception.
Take high-value purchases, such as travel or luxury items, where people are spending significant amounts of money; in these scenarios, speed isn’t always the aim of the game. In fact, a completely frictionless journey can feel slightly exposed, as though something important has been skipped over. That’s why booking a major holiday on a mobile phone in a few taps feels slightly wrong. Many people (me included) want space to check details, revisit choices and make sure nothing has been missed.
Think of the last time you booked flights, for example. How many times were you asked to review your basket before making a payment? Two, maybe three? This small amount of resistance helps to make the experience feel more considered, building reassurance within the process, and in turn the brand.
Friction isn’t just limited to digital journeys either. In some cases, it’s built directly into the product experience. Unlike furniture brands that deliver fully assembled products, Ikea places assembly in the hands of the customer. That introduces effort (and at times frustration), but it also changes how the product is experienced.
Building the furniture becomes part of the memory of owning it. People often turn it into an event, putting some music on and cracking open a bottle of wine to assemble the pieces together. In many ways, the effort along the way results in a sense of pride, making the outcome feel more personal.
The point where friction stops working
Now, this isn’t to suggest that we start adding extra steps throughout every user journey; friction only works when it feels intentional. Once it feels unnecessary or misaligned with the value being offered, it moves from being meaningful to becoming a barrier.
Newsletter sign-ups are a perfect example of this tension. As marketers, gaining additional customer information upfront allows us to improve the future experience through personalised recommendations and tailored communications, but it’s importance to get the balance right. A couple of extra tick boxes to ascertain user preferences? Absolutely. But no one is going to fill in a ten minute form just to subscribe to a mailing list, even if you are offering them 10% off their first order.
That distinction is what makes friction such a nuanced tool. It’s neither inherently good or bad and it doesn’t sit neatly on one side of a UX debate. Used well, friction can change how people commit, anticipate, or interpret value. Used poorly, it becomes a reason to leave. The challenge is striking the right balance.
If you’re ever unsure on whether you’ve got the balance right, a good question to ask is: does the effort required to complete this user journey match the value of the outcome? If the answer is no, something usually needs changing.
Imogen Kemp-Hunt is senior digital strategist at Brandwidth


Be the first to comment on "Why a little bit of friction helps build the experience"