I did everything an astrology app told me to do for an entire week

(And) I'm not sure I would do it again

There are some people who believe our solar system's planets, stars, and moons play an outsized role in determining our mortal affairs and that the exact position of these celestial objects has a colossal at-birth impact on one’s personality. I do not happen to be one of those people. I have a hard time believing that Mercury’s coordinates have more of an effect on my mood than, say, the number of beers I’ve had — so far, I’ve identified anywhere between three and six beers to be the golden mean. But of course, I would say that: I’m an Aquarius, and we are famously “clever, opinionated and analytical” — thanks, Cosmopolitan.

Nevertheless, being the “industrious [...] hard worke[r]” that I am — thanks, People — I decided to put astrology to the test. With the help of the trusty Co-Star app, I let the stars govern my life for a week. Every day, Co-Star lists three things you must and mustn’t do. These ‘do’s’ and ‘don’ts’ range from the rather straightforward, e.g. “do: cartwheels” and “don’t: self-sabotage,” to the more cryptic, e.g. “do: endings” or “don’t: cold war” — whatever that means. Personally, I was just hoping I wouldn’t have to “do: tattoos” or “don’t: breathe.” Thankfully, the stars did not want me dead nor tattooed for that matter, as much I would have gladly done the latter if they demanded it of me — we are truly committed to our craft at The Saint, after all. 

So what did the stars tell me to do? Here are some high and low-lights: day one prescribed “alone time,” “classic songs,” and “vision board” but discouraged “tantrums,” “judgements,” and “bad boundaries.” Determined to go out that evening, I spent my alone time during the first half of the day, couped up at home and working to the sound of classic rock with a small break dedicated to making a rather slapdash Google Slides presentation to serve as my vision board. The board in question featured a goofy-looking greyhound, a cosy-looking living room, a finished PhD thesis, a picture of an unknown family taken straight from Google Image’s first-page results for “family,” and clipart of the words “HAPPY” and “COMFORT” — not exactly my finest artistic work but definitely inspiring. I think I avoided any tantrums, overly judgemental behaviour, or dubious boundary-crossing at that night’s Saint social, but my colleagues will have to vouch for me on that. 

Day two was tougher to abide by. I woke up — hungover — at around midday only to find out I was supposed to “do: mornings” which I now had to charitably reinterpret as “do: sleep in.” Thankfully, there was still time in the day to “do: sour candy” and “do: hydration” — both fairly self-explanatory. “Don’t: Instagram ads” proved a more difficult task. This meant I had to commit to a full Instagram detox; luckily, Co-Star said nothing about TikTok. “Don’t: hypotheticals” was the easiest prompt yet; my staunch actualist-necessitarian stance on the metaphysics of modality means I literally do not believe in hypotheticals. Checkmate, Co-Star! 

Soon enough, day three arrived, and, at this point, I was actually craving something like “do: tattoos” just to spice my life up a little. Instead, I got “do: file cabinets” — the gods (or stars) were clearly taunting me. But I took it as a sign to organise my life and do a lot of work. After seven straight hours of work at the Union bar, I did eventually go looking around St Andrews for actual filing cabinets to mindlessly open and close. I found some in my department’s common room — Mercury must’ve been in the Uranus, or whatever they say. Sadly, I fear by that point that I had positively failed “don’t: lose the plot.” 

The stars took pity on me on day four, allowing me an incredibly relaxing 24 hours with “do: manicures, sage, and pillow fort.” Suffice it to say, I had a good time wearing charcoal face masks, lighting up incense, cuddling up in bed with every soft thing I could find, and filing my nails rather than filing any cabinets. I thought it best not to burn any actual sage, fearing I might accidentally be culturally appropriating some traditional spiritual practice and by doing so invoke an evil spirit. I was also careful to heed “don’t: sacrifices” as much as I became increasingly willing to engage in animal sacrifice to make sure the Co-Star gods would bless me on days five to seven. They did not.

Day five was kind enough to give me “do: bonfires” on 5 November of all days, but this also happened to coincide with the US presidential elections — and the gods, taunting as ever, decided to hit me with “do: bright red” and “do: team sports.” Fearing this meant I was contractually bound to wear a MAGA cap and start phone canvassing for the Republican ‘team’, I pleaded with the gods to let me wear red underwear and go to an election watch party instead. I’m still worried that this transgression against my celestially-ordained fate is what caused Harris’ defeat. I’m sorry Americans; I promise I didn’t mean to cast a hex on your democracy. 

Day six was more forgiving; at least, I made sure to interpret it as such. “Do: pauses and prioritising” definitely means pause all your work, scoot down to London, and prioritise getting a pint with friends — right? As for “do: mission statements,” I came up with the following line, to sum up my life’s ambition: “To take seriously the need to embrace both the serious and unserious; to share with others what makes me good.” Truly inspiring — so much so, in fact, that I ended up seriously embracing some very unserious behaviour that day by sharing an impromptu romp with a past fling I had bumped into. After all, I do not recall Co-Star telling me “don’t: have sex with your ex-situationships” even if they really should update the app to include that daily reminder. 

To my (and my nightly companion’s) astonishment, day seven all but proved the truth of astrology. Among my final day’s tasks was “do: old flames” — which I was probably in the very midst of doing as the clock struck midnight. Without even knowing it, I had completed a third of my do’s for the day. I also did think it best to text an old ex about this article to respect the pluralisation of “flames” — she has yet to respond. Fortunately, “do: getting over it” was next on the agenda, so I promptly got over it. Despite a very enjoyable night and morning, my companion and I also quickly ‘got over everything’ and agreed (tentatively) never to do it again — thanks, Co-Star. All that was remaining to cap off my journey was to ‘do: sunsets’ — a fitting end to my experiment. 

But what did this experiment actually prove? Not much, unsurprisingly. You probably shouldn’t centre your life around a horoscope app. Though, admittedly, provided liberal enough interpretations of its prompts, Co-Star can provide a fun little escape. And as I was made brutally aware of on the morning of day seven, you might be unknowingly complying with Co-Star’s celestial diktats regardless of your intentions. Was this a sheer coincidence or actual evidence for the truth of astrology? My Aquarian nature places me firmly in the sceptical camp, but I’ll let you, the reader, decide.

Illustration by Amelia Freeden