This is Optimizer, a weekly newsletter sent every Friday from Verge senior reviewer Victoria Song that dissects and discusses the latest phones, smartwatches, apps, and other gizmos that swear they’re going to change your life. Optimizer arrives in our subscribers’ inboxes at 10AM ET. Opt in for Optimizer here.
I take my feet seriously.
Which was why, in December, I found myself in an office, propping my leg up on a chair as a tech startup CEO used an iPhone to scan my bare tootsies from multiple angles. No, I wasn’t angling to become a saucy Victorian ankle flasher for OnlyFans. I was there to get a set of insoles from Groov, a company that uses the iPhone’s Face ID camera and an AI algorithm to create and print custom shoe inserts.
I was skeptical. Groov’s pitch boils down to personalization. People buy insoles because, let’s face it, even the most comfy shoe doesn’t always fit well. It’s even worse if you’re suffering from flat feet, plantar fasciitis, or a high arch. What makes Groov interesting is you’re creating a 3D model of your foot using tech many people already own. The company then uses AI to optimize the best surface for an individual foot. It’s similar to what a podiatrist would do, but doesn’t entail creating a plaster mold of your foot or proprietary 3D scanners.
Conversely, those $20 over-the-counter Dr. Scholl’s inserts aren’t really made for you. Proper custom orthotics from a podiatrist can cost somewhere between $300 and $800, may require a prescription, and possibly won’t be covered by insurance. (American healthcare! What a treat!) iPhones are everywhere — sorry, no Android compatibility yet — and getting custom inserts from Groov doesn’t require a prescription. A pair of the company’s inserts costs $150 and is also FSA/HSA eligible. Theoretically, this is using tech to get the exact insert for your feet in a cheaper, more accessible way.
Excuse the grimy insole. That’s how you know I tested it FOR REAL. Also this is supposedly the arch support I need for my flat feet.
On the other hand, products like Groov fall squarely in the realm of the wellness Wild West. These days, influencers peddle everything from dubious health gadgets to unapproved weight loss drugs, promising to fix everything that might ail you. Some of it is (partially) backed by science, some of it purports to improve access to known remedies, and a lot of what gets sold is snake oil. But as far as wellness tech goes, Groov seemed harmless.
When I met with Dan Cataldi, Groov’s founder and CEO, he regaled me with an impassioned speech about how shoe fit hasn’t evolved in ages. Just as society has moved away from custom-tailored clothes to fast fashion, shoes are mass produced in cookie-cutter molds even though everyone’s feet are different. Removable inserts, he says, are really the only way to make mass-produced shoes more comfortable. That’s why, when NBA players give their sneakers to fans, the first thing they do is remove their custom insoles. Cataldi proceeded to then show me a video montage of athletes, including LeBron James, doing just that.
There’s a nugget of truth here. Even so, elite athletes are a notoriously superstitious bunch who’ll do anything to get the teeniest edge. I work out a lot, but I’m no elite athlete. I’m just a gal with two wide feet and fallen arches, prone to calf strain and ill-fitting shoes. Still, I figured that trying Groov was a low-risk experiment in the world of optimization. I’d stick them in my sneakers at CES — a convention where I rack up well over 10,000 steps every day. At best, my feet would hurt less. At worst, I’d end up with a pair of insoles I could have found cheaper at a CVS.
As it turned out, last week was the culmination of a nearly two-year search for the perfect walking shoe. In Vegas, I combined Groov inserts with a new pair of AI browser-recommended New Balance 574 Core. Armed with a 15-pound backpack, I schlepped myself around putrid casinos and show floors, testing taint zappers and investigating wellness gadgets utilizing bodily fluids. No one suspected that I was also conducting my own feet-related wearable experiment.
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