Remember when foldables were basically $1,800 science experiments that creased like a folded map and snapped if you looked at them wrong?
Those days are mostly over, and now I have to actually take them seriously.
I've been daily-driving a current-gen book-style foldable for three weeks.
The crease is still there, sure, but it's more of a rumor than a canyon.
The inner screen survived my car keys, a toddler, and one regrettable pocket-sandwich incident.
Here's the part nobody warns you about: using one in public turns you into a walking conversation starter.
We're talking $1,700 to $2,000 for the flagship versions, which is a used car in some zip codes.
The battery is fine but not "leave the charger at home" fine.
The cameras are good, not "flagship good." And the outer screen on some models is so narrow that typing feels like texting on a receipt.
You can watch a video and doomscroll simultaneously, which is a productivity nightmare disguised as a feature.
Multitasking on a foldable is genuinely great, and that's the trap.
If you live in spreadsheets, PDFs, and Slack, the big inner screen earns its keep.
If you mostly scroll Instagram and text your group chat, you're paying a luxury tax for a party trick.
Neither of those people is wrong, but only one of them gets their money's worth.
My verdict after three weeks: foldables are no longer a beta test, they're a legit category.
But "legit" and "worth it" are different questions.
Buy one if the big screen replaces a tablet you were going to carry anyway.
Skip it if you want a phone that just works without a learning curve and a mild anxiety disorder about the hinge.
The aesthetic does not survive a driveway.
The closing take: foldables crossed the line from novelty to genuinely useful, and that's the problem, because now I can't pretend I don't want one.
Final Thoughts
The crease is fine, my self-control is not.